Enigma

By Aimee Ash

When KATE HARRIS moves to Long Beach California, she hopes to finally settle in her new home. She longs to have friends and fantasises about meeting the guy of her dreams. But after one dangerous night, Kate finds herself obsessing over a mysterious stranger who saves her life, and she embarks on a quest to uncover his identity. But her journey ends when she discovers her gorgeous neighbour, JACK JONES, who proves to be the welcoming distraction she needs.

Kate is deeply intrigued by Jack, and begins to feel differently when she’s in his company. She is flattered by the attention he showers her with and enjoys her newfound confidence. And even though their relationship symbolises young love, Kate soon realizes that Jack is anything but normal.

When Jack is forced to reveal his many secrets, including the curse inflicted upon him by his twin brother, Sebastian, Kate begins questioning what is real and what is just a mere illusion.

Jack refuses to make peace with his brother, and warns Kate to stay away from him. But Kate is drawn to Sebastian, and if she betrays Jack, the consequences of her actions will lead to devastation for them all.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Aimee Ash
• Release date: Dec 17, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465921406

Aimee Ash

Author who writes about the romance and seduction of the supernatural world. If you love tales of Vampires, Werewolves, Witches & Ghosts check out Aimee's Supernatural novella saga via her website.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

The Californian sun beamed brightly through my windows, I hid under my duvet wincing as I took a peek at my clock. It was eight o’clock and I knew it was time for me to get up, but I couldn’t resist having five more minutes of peace before chaos descended upon me. We had moved into our new house late yesterday afternoon and after spending the remainder of the day un-packing I was exhausted. However this being our sixth move in six years I was quite a pro at upheaval, I hadn’t even bothered unpacking some of my boxes from when we moved last time.

My father, Doctor Bryce Harris, had promised that this would be our last move for at least a couple of years. He had bought a practice in the ever vain heart of Long Beach, where plastic surgery was almost routine for the wealthy. My father was a well-known and respected surgeon, whatever you wanted lifted, tucked, enhanced, reduced, reconstructed, implanted, sucked out, he could do it - for a price of course. My mother was exhibit A, and my ghastly, vain sister was exhibit B, I had no intention of being exhibit C.

Feeling a sense of despair I desperately hoped we could finally settle, especially as I was enrolled to start college tomorrow, which would consume a minimum of three years of my life. Whilst I stretched and turned over on my side, trying to convince myself that I should attempt to surface from the comfort of my bed, I recalled a familiar feeling which settled deep in the pit of my stomach. Since I can remember something inside of me felt emotionally deprived, I only wanted to belong, feel a connection to somewhere – perhaps feel a connection with someone. It’s just that I’d never had a best friend; I was always the new girl, popular for the first week and then dropped like a lead balloon when friendship groups, which were already established, reunited. After our fifth move I decided it wasn’t even worthwhile making the effort to find a friend, the pain of rejection was dreadful.

Feeling refreshed after a hot shower I was ready as I’d ever be so I sauntered down the grand, gold-trimmed staircase knowing exactly what everyone would be doing in the kitchen before I walked through the door. Even though we had moved, the protocol of breakfast would have remained the same. So, the ritual of breakfast: my mother, Camilla Harris, would have a pot of camomile tea placed to her left and would be eating a berry and banana fruit salad with zero fat, natural, organic, probiotic yoghurt. Her rosy cheekbones would exaggerate themselves as she sipped her tea and her champagne blonde, bobbed hair would bounce perfectly as she reached across the table for the newspaper she didn’t actually have any interest in reading.

Ahh yes, then there is my older sister; Heather, she would be back from her morning walk donning her four inch, custom made, shape up trainers. Yet, she wouldn’t have broken into a remote sweat. She would sit with her spindly legs crossed whilst sipping on a fruit smoothie with her thin lips firmly clasped around an eco-friendly paper straw, avoiding all traces of carbohydrates and anything that wasn’t organic. Almost every day she would recite to us that being a model was a life-style for her, not just a job, and then we’d hear about how it took dedication and commitment to look as good as she did. And not forgetting my father, he would have already left for work to tend to his early morning patients – those who made appointments at unearthly hours to avoid being seen in daylight. And who knew what time my baby brother, Brett, would surface? He had been out all night at yet another party and I had no doubt that he would have drunk far too much, like he always did.

Before I entered the kitchen I paused and took a quick glance into the pewter, antique mirror, which had hung in the foyer in every house we had ever lived in. It was a family heirloom given to my father from his great uncle; it was hideous, gothic and eerie looking. I let down my wavy, ash blonde hair and weaved my fingers through it over and over trying to reconstruct it in an attempt at making myself look less of a tousled mess. I turned to my side placing my hands down the length of my thighs and studied my silhouette. The skinny jeans I wore hugged me in the right places and the loose shirt I had opted for covered my flaws as intended. My lack of trendy dress sense irked my mother, and Heather always had something to say about my casual attire.

Approving myself for the day I stepped into the kitchen ready to eat and get out of there quickly, I had unpacking as an excuse today, and I had to prepare for my first day of college tomorrow. As I sat Heather glared at me with her bright, blue eyes inspecting my clothes as usual. Her long platinum blonde, wiry hair flowed down her back neatly and with her every move her hair gracefully fell around her face making her beauty even more apparent. She was a bitch, but a beautiful bitch.

My mother looked up from her newspaper and joined Heather in observing me,

‘Kate, darling. Are you okay? You aren’t wearing any makeup, not even a dash of mascara. Oh, look at you.’ My mother wrinkled her nose and poked at my pale face.

‘Mother, don’t fuss her. She hates it. Just leave her alone, if she wants to look that way then let her face the consequences of her actions.’ Heather smiled at me with pure evil hidden behind her shiny, veneered teeth. My mother shot her a disapproving look.

‘I’m not fussing; I just want Kate to make the best of what she has.’ She said, whilst pouting her lips at me in an attempt to offer me sympathy for my plain looks.

I hung my head and placed a napkin on my lap, my lack of confidence was already at a low and it had just taken another hit. I’d accepted early on in life that it was merely stupid to consider myself anything but average, especially when standing next to Heather, whom I avoided, as much as possible. It was Brett who had reassured me that I didn’t look like Frankenstein’s bride, he said I looked like a normal girl and there was nothing wrong with that.

Facing up I took a sip of juice and looked around the new kitchen, it looked pretty much the same as all the others, all the usual mod-cons and marble work-tops – predictable really. And then I saw that Heather was eyeing me whilst stirring her smoothie. She was just as predictable as anything else in the kitchen and was quick to pass another unwanted comment.

‘Please tell me you have unpacked some of your half decent clothes, for your sake do not go dressed like a boy for your first day at college. If you have any hope of joining a fraternity then dress your pale face and treat your feet to some heels. You can’t rely solely on our family name to get you by; you have to make an effort.’ Heather flicked her hair away from her eyes; she had a degree in deceit and honours in manipulation, although my mother thought every word that came out of her mouth was the absolute truth. I knew different.

Sipping on my juice I refused to give Heather the satisfaction of even looking over at her. She would be itching for a reaction from me and as much as I wanted to give her hell for being so mean I refrained knowing that would annoy her more. Then my nose recollected a familiar smell; something delicious was cooking, I looked up and smiled.

Leaving the table I walked over to Nanny Flo, standing behind her avoiding her silver grey hair which was wound up into a neat bun, I gave her a morning hug and a peck on the cheek. Flo had been my ally since the very day I was born; she was my role model and had been nothing but an inspiration to me. Every time I felt low I’d think of her chocolate brown eyes looking directly at me and would remember her telling me what really mattered in life. She insisted our own fate and happiness was guided by our own destiny from within ourselves, she insisted that anything in life was attainable with positivity and drive. Flo was certainly a true Italian lady; she could put you in your place in a heartbeat, but would also smother you with kisses. She had been like a mother to me; she was the mother that every child would want, a mother that every child deserved.

When I was thirteen I found Nanny Flo sobbing in the garden, I had never seen her cry before. With my natural instincts I put my arm around her and she held me so tight, like she would never let me go. It was on that day that she told me a secret she had buried inside of her for years. Nanny Flo confessed that sixteen years ago she had given birth to a beautiful baby girl, Maddelena. Whilst shopping at their local market in Italy Maddelena tragically went missing, she had just turned three years old. Flo searched for her baby girl for years, hoping that one day she would find her, but Maddelena had never been found. Her obsession with finding her daughter eventually destroyed her marriage. Sadly, she never had more children and never found love again. After ten years of searching for the missing piece of her heart, Flo moved to California to try and start a new life. She came to work for my parents two days after Heather was born and since that day she moved wherever we went, truly dedicated to our entire family.

Flo was the one who had changed my diapers, prepared my bottles of milk, cooked all my meals and taken me to the park to feed the birds. As I grew up she would sit and listen to me read, she was the one who stood by and listened at my piano recitals. Nanny Flo always tied my hair in pretty, delicate pigtails with matching ribbons and bows and told me how beautiful I was. It was Flo who had tucked me in at bedtime and always gave me a kiss on my cheek after reading my favourite bedtime story once again with no complaint. One day she confessed to me in secrecy that I was her favourite of the Harris children; I loved being someone’s favourite. Flo made me feel incredibly special. It was a lovely, warm feeling to feel wanted.

Flo turned to face me. ‘You want blueberry pancakes or is it chocolate chip today, bambino?’ Feeling lost in the moment as I reminisced about her sad life Flo found herself repeating her question to me.

‘Oh, I think it’s a choc chip day today, Flo.’ I answered.

She laughed as she reached for the chocolate chips smiling widely. ‘It’s always a choc chip day for you, my lovely Kate.’

I held my hand out and Flo poured chocolate chips into my palm. I threw them into my mouth without hesitation and saw Heather roll her eyes at me with disgust. She was trying her best to antagonise me. It was hard not to lower myself to her level, but I could see her getting more and more agitated as I ignored her and the satisfaction it gave me was enough of a reward.

Holding my hand out again I smiled, ‘Actually, make it a double choc chip day and some whipped cream would be lovely. I’m starving.’ I declared delicately raising my eyebrows at Heather.

Flo replenished my hand with choc chips. ‘Double choc chip with whippy cream on its way.’ We both laughed, enjoying our moment together. There had been many laughs and happy moments between me and Flo.

‘You should lay off the pancakes, Kate. I’ve warned you before; skinny jeans don’t like carbohydrates.’ Heather took a bite of a strawberry and threw me another bitchy smile.

‘Well, my skinny jeans fit me just fine.’ I said whilst sucking in my stomach. I walked over, sat down at the table and reached out for a strawberry. Heather bit into her strawberry and then threw its remains down onto the table, she pursed her lips as she reached for another, she couldn’t help herself.

‘You should watch your weight, Kate. Society judges people on their physical appearance these days. You will never find yourself an eligible bachelor with thighs the size of yours, and with your plain face you will have to compensate with your weight even more.’ Her evil eyes scanned my body, as I breathed out and my stomach pushed out my jeans she made me feel like I had suddenly gained ten pounds, had a face like a wrinkly corpse and was naked for her appraisal. I had tried and failed. She was going to get what she so desperately wanted and I despised myself for giving into her. However, deciding I was stronger than she thought I was, I refused to allow her to mentally bully me and make me feel uncomfortable in my own skin. I glanced over to my mother who continued to read her newspaper, playing ignorant to our bickering. I was on my own.

‘Heather, modelling is a career for you, not me. I want a career where I actually have to use my brain.’ There it was. I had succumbed to pure bitching and immediately regretted it.

Heather glared at me. ‘I’ll have you know, little sister, that modelling does require the use of my brain. I’m considering designing my own line; I have amazing vision for high-end fashion given my editorial look.’ Heather took another sip of her smoothie believing every word she had said. I had to wrap this petty argument up before she completely drained me.

‘If you say so, Heather. Good luck with the designing. Considering you can’t draw a stick man, I’m sure the clothes will be very interesting.’ I couldn’t help myself.

Heather leaned over the table at me. ‘I am visually gifted, Kate. So I won’t need to draw. I will have staff for that.’

I laughed loudly. Heather’s cheeks went a bright shade of scarlet and her eyes popped out of her head with humiliation.

My mother slammed her hand down on her newspaper. ‘Girls, please can you just try and get along, even if it’s only while I’m in the same room as you both?’ Heather screwed up her entire face and was taking short breaths; I had dared to embarrass her.

Flo placed my double choc chip pancakes in front of me and threw me a little smile, which I’m sure meant that she was delighted I had given Heather a piece of my mind. Heather looked at Flo, held her half-empty smoothie glass up and rudely waved it around in the air.

‘Excuse me, Flo. I’ve finished. Next time I would like more strawberries and fewer blueberries. This tasted a little like ….’

Now she had pushed my buttons. She wasn’t going to get away with being rude to Flo who was nothing but perfectly kind and respectful. Now I was raging, but surprisingly my mother beat me to it.

‘Heather, don’t you dare speak to Flo like that. Her smoothies are delicious.’

Flo took Heather’s glass. ‘No need to apologise, Mrs Harris,’ Flo said calmly.

My mother was many things, but she disliked any type of rudeness and wouldn’t tolerate it.

‘There is every need to apologise Flo. I raised my children to have more respect than that. Heather, apologise to Flo immediately,’ she insisted.

I had never heard Heather apologise in her entire life and doubted that she would start now. I was right. Heather casually crossed her legs and bit down on a slice of apple.

‘Oh pipe down, Mother. Since when did you raise us anyway?’ Heather hit my mother hard with her cruel words, even if they were true.

‘I’m not going to get into an argument with you now, Heather, but I certainly will not forget what you just said! What has gotten into you?’ My mother raised her voice.

Feeling my hands shake and taking a deep breath I reached across the table for the jug of cranberry juice to refill my glass. As I took hold of the jug’s handle I allowed my hand to relax a little too much and lost my grip, the juice poured out of the jug and splashed into Heather’s newly extended hair. Her smoothie glass fell from her hand and landed neatly in her lap on her designer, white skinny jeans. That was a stain that wasn’t going to budge. I was childishly thrilled.

Heather’s jaw dropped to the floor and her eyes fluttered as she stood, she took a few short, light breaths before finally throwing herself into a full-blown, toddler tantrum which had me in complete hysterics.

Heather yelled at me, ‘Kate, you devil child! These are designer, custom-made, Swarovski, crystal encrusted, skinny jeans! I hate you so much!’ Heather’s eyes glazed over and in that moment I realised just how pathetic and shallow she was.

I handed her my napkin, but she snatched it out of my hand, screwed it up into a ball and threw it at me with vengeance. She then lunged at my pancake and slammed her fist into it several times, which entertained me even more. In the centre of it all, my mother stood up, looked at Heather with disbelief and then looked at me with stern disapproval, which had no impact on neither of us nor the situation. Then Heather tore off her designer jeans in the middle of the kitchen, revealing an incredibly skimpy thong, and launched them at Flo’s feet.

‘You get this stain out immediately, Flo!’ Heather said with teary rage in her eyes.

Flo bent down and picked the jeans up off the floor. ‘I will do my best, Miss Heather,’ Flo said, being far too polite.

My mother folded her newspaper and wedged it underneath her arm. She stood up and walked over to Flo. ‘Oh don’t be ridiculous, Heather. Just buy a new pair. Don’t bother attempting to clean them, Flo. Just throw them in the bin.’ My mother insisted.

Heather threw her shoulders back and flicked her hair behind her; my mother’s insensitivity towards her precious jeans had irked her further. Heather was more irate than I had ever seen her before; apart from the time that Brett snapped the legs off her collectors’ Malibu Barbie.

‘Mother, they were custom made! Custom made! Did you not hear me when I said they were encrusted with Swarovski crystals? Swarovski crystals!’ Tears rolled down Heather’s face.

My mother looked at her newly polished nails. ‘So, get another pair custom made for you then. Honestly, I wish you wouldn’t be so dramatic all the time.’

My mother apologised to Flo again for Heather’s rude behaviour, leaving the ruined jeans at Flo’s feet. I picked them up, walked over to the bin and threw them in, pushing them right to the bottom, crushing them further into the fruit peelings and slop.

The kitchen door opened and silence fell around us as we all turned to see who it was. A concerned Tobias peered around the corner and after seeing Heather standing half naked he then slammed the door shut without hesitation. Tobias was our thirty something loyal Mexican Butler. He had been part of our daily lives for two years and had settled in well, but liked to keep himself to himself, he wasn’t a talker. His shoulder length, black hair was always slicked back into a tidy ponytail and his mildly muscular body suited his average height. I was envious of how he always looked so healthy with his smooth olive skin glowing on a daily basis, Heather swore he must moisturise.

Heather flicked her hair, which vindictively caught the edge of my face. She ran out of the kitchen and stomped up the stairs in her tiny, rather pointless, white thong. Tobias was completely stunned; he didn’t know where to hide his blushing face.

CHAPTER 2

After finally eating breakfast I headed to my bedroom to continue unpacking. With boxes surrounding me I had run out of space, drawing back the long, cream curtains, I opened my doors and began tossing boxes out of my way onto my balcony. Once they were out of my room I had space to move around and continued to un-pack finding a new home for my things.

Just a couple of hours later I had successfully un-packed everything and then I looked up; there were piles of empty boxes on my balcony which I’d completely forgotten about. Through a defeated sigh I grabbed a pair of scissors ready to dissemble the boxes and put them in the attic, ready for our next move. As I sliced through the tape and flattened the boxes I turned my head and saw someone dive into the pool next door. Even though I only saw him out of the water for a moment, I saw his perfect athletic and subtly toned body, but I didn’t see his face.

As I stood on my balcony waiting for him to come out from underneath the water, it suddenly occurred to me that this guy had been under the water for an abnormal length of time. I looked at my watch and then looked back at the pool; he had been under the water for far too long to still be able to breathe. I looked at my clock again and as I turned back he was out of the pool, looking directly over at me. With panic I turned too quickly and stumbled over the empty boxes falling onto the floor crushing the boxes underneath me. I threw down the scissors and crawling back inside I quickly drew my curtains, feeling embarrassed that I’d so obviously been watching him.

After kicking myself for being such a clumsy idiot I wanted to have a peek to see if he was still there. I hovered by my curtains and after only a few short moments my intrigue got the best of me. I slowly pulled the curtain back and my eyes located him. He was too far away for me to see his face clearly, but this time I was more daring, watching him for longer as he hadn’t noticed me. In fact, I soon lost all awareness of myself as he ran his hands through his hair with his muscular, tanned arms. But then he turned around faster than I knew was possible, before I had the chance to look away; he waved over in my direction. My arms suddenly went numb; this time I couldn’t draw the curtains to hide. I was in a motionless daze and if I drew them now I would look even more stupid, if that was possible. There was no point in denying my spying activities, so I waved back at him with a blank expression on my flushing face. Then, to my shame, I saw a lady approach him and she handed him a bottle of water, which he accepted while smiling widely. I wanted the floorboards to collapse beneath me and take me through the entire house to the basement where nobody would ever find me. No such luck! I was stuck on my balcony with burning cheeks, looking completely ridiculous standing there waving at him when he was actually waving at someone else – maybe his mother or perhaps a maid.

I continued to watch for a while, sighing and pursing my lips, then the handsome stranger turned around and really did look directly up at me. He waved with his head down and walked away. Closing my balcony doors, I paced alongside my bed, grinning quite uncontrollably. He had acknowledged me and I was childishly thrilled.

After finally collapsing all the empty boxes my hard slog was over and I decided to go to the local beach and get some much needed fresh air.

The beach was beautiful, the ocean icy blue and the sand silky soft. I sat with my eyes closed, listening to the curling, crashing waves as whenever I hear the ocean my mind feels completely free. As the tide swayed in and out gently, my mind drifted to the daunting prospect of starting college the next day. The thought of the over-powering rich kids was bad enough, but attending college at Long Beach was an entirely different way of life compared to high school. The rich kids would have shiny new cars to show off, expensive jewellery, salon-perfect hair, patterned acrylic nails and of course designer clothes, shoes, bags, etc. I worried about how I would fit in and that thought alone made me feel uncomfortably tense. All the rich kids usually clung together and life would certainly be easier for me if I joined the ‘elite’ group, given my family name I had every opportunity to, but I never opted for easy. Easy didn’t suit me. Easy was far too mundane.

While absorbed in the thought of college and spoilt teenagers I hadn’t noticed that the sun had begun to fade. It was a lot later than I had planned to stay out and I would be in trouble if I missed my curfew. Taking in one last breath of salty sea air I stood up and brushed the sand off my jeans.

As I looked up I couldn’t quite believe what I was seeing, I looked away and then looked back again. Panic then surged through me and I knew I had seconds to escape. A mighty wave was heading my way, I could hear it thunder along the water and as I dared to look over my shoulder I saw it was gaining on me quicker than I could run. Before I had a chance to scream for help or to at least alert someone that I was about to fall prisoner to the ocean the wave engulfed me. Its almighty power swept me up, taking me out into the ocean under its vicious, suffocating current. I was immersed under the salty water desperately trying to hold my breath. Panicking, I flapped my arms in every direction and kicked my legs with as much force as possible. However, I was too weak; the current was stronger and I was rapidly losing the battle. The only thought I had at that moment was that if I was going to drown I wanted it to be over as soon as possible. Struggling to hold my breath, and with my energy waning fast, my lips began to slowly drift apart. Just as my body was about to give up the fight I felt the sudden force of someone wrapping their arms around my waist and pulling me.

The next thing I remembered was lying on the sand feeling someone’s warm lips on mine and then in the next second I was desperately gasping for breath. Water poured out of my mouth, the taste of the bitter, salty water made me vomit. Gently, I was rolled over onto my side by this stranger who had undoubtedly saved my life. Everything was blurry, my eyes stung and I struggled to focus.

‘Hey are you ok? Kate, are you hurt? I didn’t see you. I’m so sorry.’ The stranger spoke fast and was flustered.

I somehow managed to nod my head, forcing my eyes shut, not really taking in what he was saying. Sitting up slowly, through my blurred vision, I saw the tide drifting in and out calmly. This baffled me. Gently rubbing my eyes, I lifted my head to seek out the voice that had saved me. He stood behind me, holding me under my arms, helping me up to stand. My weak legs buckled underneath me and he caught me as if he were catching a bubble of air. As I comfortably sank into his arms with my tired, stinging eyes firmly closed, my brain started to function again. The water was perfectly calm; I couldn’t comprehend how a huge wave could have surfaced so randomly. The stranger placed me down in front of him on the soft, cool sand. He glanced at his watch and began walking away from me.

‘Hey where are you going?’ I called out to him urgently, still feeling a little breathless. To my surprise, he continued walking away.

He called out to me, refusing to turn around. ‘You seem fine now. I have to go. I’m really sorry.’ He didn’t look at me. I hadn’t seen his face.

I looked out at the ocean for a moment, but quickly turned my head back towards him and called out again.

‘Wait! What happened? You saved my life.’ I coughed trying to catch my breath. He continued to walk away as he spoke.

‘The water has been rough for a while. You should be more careful. I only dragged you out of the water. Anyone would have done the same thing.’

As I coughed I felt confused. How was he strong enough to drag me out of such a powerful current? I didn’t want him to leave. I wanted to see his face, which he seemed to be desperately hiding.

But it was too late – he had gone.

CHAPTER 3

Sitting on the cool sand I took short, deep breaths, finding myself wondering why this mysterious hero would feel the need to apologise to me. He had saved my life, and to apologise for that didn’t make sense. But the thinking was making my head hurt and I decided that it was definitely time to go. Slowly standing, regaining my balance, I walked along the sand feeling strong enough to head home. Then I heard someone frantically calling out my name. As I looked up I saw somebody running towards me looking like they were in a desperate hurry to get to me. It was