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Time Hunters - Guardian

The vision rolled over Nick Wyatt like a lush, erotic storm – the richly feminine scent of woman, the intoxicating taste of an eager mouth, the feel of rose-petal skin under his hands, delicate over long, firm muscle.  He did not know her, had never met her, yet the vision branded her on his consciousness with white-hot reality.  His body leaped for hers, hardened in a burning rush. 

Lips like distilled sin curled into a hot smile that flashed in his mind.  Her eyes blazed at him through the darkness, feral scarlet light behind the fall of her fiery hair.

She is not human. 

His mind whispered it at him, the warning almost enough to chill his heat.  Almost.

Then he saw the curving line from breast to hip, the sweep of long leg, the feline shift of weight as she moved.  And the heat rose again.  His cock lengthened, stretching, aching, as his balls tightened between his thighs.  In that moment, he didn’t care whether she was human or not.

Then her hair fell back, revealing her features, and he saw her clearly for the first time.  An intricate tattoo in shades of red and blue curled along one side of her face.  And he realized he did know her after all.

It was the girl.  The girl he’d last seen when she was the twelve-year old prisoner of a murderous alien.  But like him, she was no child now.

He’d found her again.  

Nick snapped out of the vision with a jerk, his body stiffening, his heart banging furiously.   There was something cold and heavy in his hand.  He looked down and saw the Glock.  He’d been cleaning the big automatic when the vision hit.  Feeling clumsy, disconnected, he put the .45 aside on the end table, barely noticing the stiff wire brush that fell from the fingers of his other hand.  The air smelled of gun oil and the ghostly memory of her scent.                                                       
The Stone cast a golden glow that danced around the room as he reeled to his feet.  Its power heated the intricate silver setting that clasped his biceps like a hand.  The heavily engraved metal felt almost hot enough to burn. 
Definitely a vision then, not just a horny dream born of celibacy.

Sweat rolled down his naked torso into the waistband of his worn jeans as he padded barefoot across the little apartment.  He heaved the window open despite the shriek of glass and the protesting creak of wood.  His landlord had painted it shut.  With his strength, Nick had scarcely noticed the resistance as paint ripped free.

He let his damp shoulder thump against the frame of the window as he stared out into the night, heart pounding.  The headlights of passing cars swept past the apartment complex.  Normal people, heading home to normal lives, never knowing what lay just beyond the edges of their worlds.

Here be monsters.

Nick knew all about monsters.