Elizabeth grinned as Ian laughed at another of her family anecdotes. They had finished the pizza a while ago, but had continued chatting.
Ian pushed up the sleeves of his black shirt and lifted an ankle onto his knee. Not only were his jeans black as well, but so were his well-worn boots. "Your family must be really close," he said.
She nodded.
"Does your brother visit often?"
"Not really. He's busy with his tech company. But my parents insist we go on a vacation together every year, and he's always back for Christmas."
"And you? Aren't you going to college?"
She pursed her lips.
"It is fine if you aren't."
She grabbed a wet wipe from the packet on the table and dabbed at her mouth after wiping her hands. "I've already graduated."
"College?"
She nodded again.
"But you're only eighteen. At least your driver's license says so."
"I am. I graduated from college at fourteen."
"You're some kind of prodigy."
"No. My parents just expected more of us, I guess. My brother went to college at twelve, too."
"And your parents?"
"They went to college at eighteen, but my mom homeschooled us. I guess homeschooling is just more efficient."
"Okay. So what have you been doing since you turned fourteen? Are you searching for a cure for cancer?"
She gave him a wry smile. "Nothing that impressive. I interned at my parents' companies, learning and seeing what I'd like to do in the future."
"And have you decided?"
"I like helping out at my parents' foundation, but ... I don't know. Something's missing."
"I'm sure you'll figure it out eventually."
"You think? Sometimes I think my parents wasted their time and resources on me. My brother always knew what he wanted to do. He loved computers, and he went for it. He's created applications and devices that made a difference in people's lives. Me? I'm still bumming around."
"You're not bumming around. You're working at your parents' foundation."
"Yeah. But everything I have is built upon my parents' success. Even my investment portfolio is my parents' money."
"You have an investment portfolio?"
"My dad's a fund manager—the good kind," she clarified before he could reply.
"Your parents may have given you a good start, but I'm sure you'll find your own path soon."
She wasn't sure about that. "I hope so." Elizabeth waved it off. "Enough about me. What about you? What do you do? Are you still a student?"
"I was homeschooled, too. But I didn't go college."
"So you're working now?"
He nodded.
"As?"
"Project-based jobs."
That was a vague enough answer that Elizabeth figured he didn't want to talk about his job. "And your family?"
"My mom passed away when I was six." A shadow fell over Ian's face, and his voice softened. "I can't remember much about her."
Six. So many years had passed, yet the pain in his voice sounded so raw. Elizabeth reached over, and her fingers skimmed over the back of his. "I'm sorry."
His fingers twitched, and for a moment Elizabeth thought he would jerk his hand away. She was about to pull her hand back when he cracked a smile at her.
"And your father?"
"I'm not close to my father."
The doorbell rang before Elizabeth could reply. Who could that be? "I'll see who it is." She stood, but Ian got up as well.
"It's okay. I can still walk." She moved toward the door, and Ian followed.
Though Ian was a stranger, Elizabeth hadn't thought much about inviting him in. If he wanted to harm her, he could have just left her to die in the lake. But his reaction to the doorbell was making her uncomfortable.
She looked at the electronic screen next to the door and frowned at the man in black suit jacket and pants. She was about to press the button on the electronic panel and ask what the man wanted when Ian grabbed her hand.
"Open the door."
"Do you know him?"
"Not personally."
Elizabeth frowned.
When the pizza delivery man arrived, Ian had insisted on getting and paying for the pizzas. She had thought Ian was just trying to be a gentleman. But now ... "Ian, you're kind of scaring me."
"I need you to trust me."
She stared back at him. "I feel as if I'm opening the door to a serial killer or something. Please tell me you're not a serial killer."
"I'm not a serial killer, Lizzie. I'm not going to hurt you." He let go of her hand and gently held her arms just above the elbow. "I promise I'll keep you safe. I know you don't understand what's going on, but I need you to trust me."
Ted Bundy. He was a great serial killer because he was charming and nice. Monsters—good ones—know how to hide their monstrous side. Elizabeth swallowed when she heard her mother's voice in her head.
Her mother had warned her countless times: The world isn't safe, be wise. Especially since she had money.
"Lizzie." Ian tightened his grip. "Please." The honey flecks in his eyes seemed to glow as he leaned forward slightly, and the intensity of his stare burned away all the warnings her parents had ever given her.
"It's okay, Lizzie," a familiar voice said from behind Ian.
She blinked when she saw Adniel towering behind Ian. She pursed her lips and closed her eyes to stop herself from screaming.
She'd already decided that she hadn't seen what she thought she saw during the accident. The creatures existed only in her nightmares. Somehow her brain had scrambled those nightmares into her memories, making her think they were real.
Now she could be standing in front of a serial killer with his accomplice right outside the door and her brain had to throw in hallucinations.
Wait. Messed-up neural connections shouldn't create hallucinations, right?
"Lizzie, you can trust him," Adniel continued.
She opened her eyes and stared at Adniel, at the light gray eyes that sent a wave of comfort through her.
"Trust him," Adniel repeated and faded away.
"Lizzie." Ian squeezed her arms, turning her attention back to him.
Elizabeth ran her hand through her hair. "Fine." Since the good part of her subconscious mind—which must be what Adniel was—said it was all right to trust Ian, she would.
Ian nodded. "I'll be there." He pointed to the couch. "Let him come in."
"Okay." She jumped when the man outside pounded on the door, then opened it after Ian got to the couch.
"Elizabeth Summers?" The man with short wavy chestnut-brown hair stared at her from outside the door. "I'm Doctor Lester," he said with a small smile. "I'm a psychiatrist. Your doctor thought I should swing by to make sure you're all right."
If it hadn't been Ian's behavior, Elizabeth wouldn't suspect a thing. The crisp white shirt underneath Doctor Lester's suit jacket was neatly tucked into his pants. His black leather belt and polished leather shoes screamed 'professional.'
And though Docter Lester was probably six feet tall, which was about half a head taller than Elizabeth, his beanpole figure wasn't intimidating.
"Come in." She stepped aside and allowed the man to enter.
As the man stepped past her, Elizabeth scanned the area outside. Again, she didn't see any car.
For a moment, she considered bolting out the door.
But she didn't.
Instead, she licked her lips and closed the door. Did she have a death wish? What was she doing?
"Oh, you have a guest," Doctor Lester said.
Ian stood and extended his hand toward her, a gesture that should have been weird. But it somehow felt normal, as if she'd known Ian long before this.
Elizabeth took a deep breath and went to Ian's side while Doctor Lester made his way toward the couch.
"She isn't one of yours," Ian said the moment she put her hand into his.
He pulled her behind him. The warm, firm grip of his hand soothed the uncertainty roused by the peculiar situation unfolding in front of her.
"One of mine?" Doctor Lester smiled politely at Ian. "I don't underst—"
"I saw you at the hospital. I saw the tattoo on your wrist."
Doctor Lester blinked, then tugged at his right cuff. "And what do you think that tattoo means?"
"You're a Guardian."
All amiability faded from Doctor Lester's face. "And you are?"
"Affiliated."
The doctor gave a dry laugh. "You've got to be kidding."
Elizabeth understood all of those words separately, yet she simply couldn't make out what they were saying.
"Our paths have never crossed," Ian continued. "You've made a mistake. She had a nightmare, and she got confused after the accident."
"I was told to bring her back, so I will."
Ian tightened his grip on her hand. "I won't let you take her."
Though Elizabeth was completely lost in the conversation, Ian's tone was enough to let her know something was seriously wrong.
"I have orders," Doctor Lester said.
"Are you sure you want to fight me? You won't win."
Fight him? Elizabeth was tempted to jump forward and ask what was going on. But with Ian's grip on her hand, she doubted she could move anywhere.
"I'll still try," Doctor Lester said and reached into his pocket.
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Reposting after some edits! Do vote and add to your reading list. :)