Free Guardian by Heather Burch Page A

closing him off, she settled in by laying her head against his shoulder, her ear against the throbbing pulse in his throat. “I would. I’d say I’m safe with you, Mace. You’re my guardian.” She drew a deep breath, lungs filling with air, filling with him. On the exhales she whispered, “My guardian angel.”

Chapter 7

    New scientists, shipments of wingcuffs, and Omega’s warehouse a buzz of activity back in Missouri. Mace’s attention needed to be on the new information instead of on this, but he couldn’t help himself. He had a present for Nikki. He’d intended to tell her about it when the others were swimming, but he’d been completely leveled by her guardian angel comment. Now, three hours later, he wasn’t sure why he was pacing in his cabin, why his palms were sweaty, why his stomach felt like he’d eaten bait for dinner. Enough! He snatched the box and went in search of her.
    She sat tucked in one of the galley’s booths, head resting on her palm, so engrossed she didn’t notice him enter until his shadow blocked the sunlight streaming over her through a porthole.
    She looked up, and that warm smile spread across her face. “Hi.”
    His insides became molten. “Hi.” One hand was behind his back, and with the other he pointed to the novel she was holding. “Is it good?”
    “Yeah. It’s a steam punk, but not as much adventure as I’d like. It’s funny at least.” She placed the well-worn book on the table and wrinkled her nose. “I read it about a year ago, and it seemed like nonstop action then.”
    “Well, the excitement level in your own life has kicked up a few notches.”
    “A few? How about I’m not even on the chart anymore?”
    “In a league of your own.”
    “It’s lonely at the top.”
    “So they say.”
    She laughed softly and pointed to his bent elbow. “What’s behind your back?”
    “A present for you.”
    She perked up. “Really?”
    “Mm-hmm.” Mace bit his cheek to stop the grin that threatened to take over. His hands were sweaty again. I’ll wind up handing her a sweat-drenched box she’ll have to wring out before opening.
    “Is it an action-packed novel?”
    “Nope. Even better.”
    Her little hands reached out. “Gimme, gimme, gimme.”
    He set it on the table by her book and tried not to hold his breath.
    For a long moment she stared at it. A barrage of emotions scattered across her face until she finally settled on confusion. But there was a distinct smile too. “Why did you give me this?”
    Mace slid into the seat beside her and began opening the camera box. “I know Will warned you to draw only under his strict supervision, and I know how much you love drawing. I’ve seen you studying things on the boat. The curl of the sails, angles of the helm … other things. Drawing is your way of keeping the world sane.”
    She nodded. “What keeps the world sane for you, Mace?”
    “Nothing.”
    Her mouth tilted into a downturned bow.
    “Nothing until you.”
    Her face beamed then turned suspicious. “Liar. You didn’t need sanity until I came along.”
    “I didn’t need a lot of things until you came along.” The air around them thickened with all the unspoken things between them. “Anyway, I know you miss the freedom drawing gives you, so I did a little recon—”
    “Recon?” she said.
    “A little research, and from what I can tell, photography is kind of close to drawing.”
    She nodded, but her mouth straightened into a line as if she planned to cross-examine him. “So your recon revealed that photography is like drawing?”
    “From what I gathered, a lot of artists photograph their subjects before they draw or paint.”
    He was pretty sure she was biting back a full smile. “And why do you suppose they do that?”
    Was she baiting him? No fair. He already felt like a fish on a line, helplessly being reeled in. “Best I can tell, it’s for composition. Maybe color too, but mostly composition. I’m no artist, but I’d think you’d