Designed to Love

Designed To Love

Elle Davis

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2014 Elle Davis

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-one

Chapter Twenty-two

Chapter Twenty-three

Chapter Twenty-four

Chapter Twenty-five

Chapter Twenty-six

Chapter Twenty-seven

Chapter Twenty-eight

Chapter Twenty-nine

Chapter Thirty

CHAPTER ONE

Ronan's amber eyes with copper flecks remind me of the Kilauea lava flows in Hawaii. They are like liquid gold, and are now brimming with tears as he waits for my answer. Two weeks before my seventeenth birthday, I am standing here with a 2 carat marquise diamond on my left ring finger and the man presenting it to me is down on one knee, waiting for my acceptance. I start to cry, in some ways giving him permission to do the same. To an outsider looking in, we might appear like two silly teenage fools, rushing into a situation that we aren't fully able to comprehend. But we're far from being typical teens and the love between us feels as real as the love between Claire and me. We were never destined to follow a normal teenage trajectory and accepting his hand in marriage seems as natural to me as breathing.

Yes, of course, I finally manage, in a hoarse whisper. He stands up and embraces me so tightly that all airflow in and out of my lungs is temporarily halted. Can't breathe, I croak and he releases me letting my body slowly slide down the length of his torso, making it difficult to catch my breath for entirely different reasons.

Cataryn, Cataryn, Cataryn, he softly chants my full name, properly rolling the r (which few people know to do), in a way that makes it sound aristocratic and elegant. My body starts to melt, molding itself to his and he reactively applies counter pressure, igniting a familiar flame that's becoming more and more difficult to control.

Ronan...?

Yes, Cataryn? he murmurs contentedly, as his lips gently coax mine apart, sending shock waves throughout my body.

Um, I think I'm ready to make that appointment now, I whisper.

He pulls away, his expression serious as he searches my eyes for confirmation.

Are you sure? He asks, but I can tell by the grin now spreading across his face, that he already knows that I am. I smile lovingly, and he tosses his head back laughing. Thank God! he murmurs softly, the relief evident in his voice.

We decided a while ago that when we were ready to advance our physical relationship, we would do it responsibly. I'm always impressed by Ronan's self-control, but it's clear now that he's had a harder time abstaining then he's been letting on. Suddenly, I can't wait to schedule an appointment at a local clinic.

***

Everyone is already seated in the dining room, passing around platters of food when we make our way downstairs. Between the ongoing debate on which football team will make it to the Super Bowl, and Alisha and Jason's attempt to get Claire to eat her chicken, no one pays much attention to us when we quietly take our seats at the table. I have butterflies in my stomach when Ronan clears his throat to get everyone's attention.

Hey everyone, we have something to tell you, he says in such a way that immediately the room falls silent, and all eyes settle on us. Elizabeth already has a knowing grin on her face, and Michael winks at me, causing my face to unexpectedly grow warm. I asked Cat to marry me, and she accepted, he announces, eliciting cheers from only half of the group. Elizabeth, Michael, and Brandon waste no time in offering their congratulations; their sincerity reflected in the smiles on their faces. Alisha, Jason, and Burke trade weary glances, and Claire stares wide-eyed at the two of us, not saying a word. The minute the news is out, I regret not telling her in private and I sign the words, I'm sorry, as I watch her eyes fill up with tears. It wasn't at all the reaction I was expecting from the kid who thinks Ronan walks on water.

Whoa, wait a minute, Alisha balks holding a hand up to interrupt Elizabeth who's enthusiastically beginning to plan a trip to the city to shop for wedding gowns.

Marriage? Are you kidding? Don't you think it's a little impulsive to jump into marriage when you've known each other less than six months? she scowls, pursing her lips together in disapproval.

Not to mention you're not even eighteen, Burke mumbles.

Marriage is a huge commitment. You don't want to treat it lightly, Jason adds diplomatically, in what seems like an attempt to pacify Alisha. Even he must know that the statement is weightless given the fact that he married his late wife three months after they met.

Ronan grabs my hand under the table and leans back in his chair. If he's bothered at all by their skepticism, it doesn't show. In fact, when he looks down at me and smiles, there is a hint of amusement in his eyes.

I think you two are perfect for each other and you shouldn't listen to what anyone says, Elizabeth whispers in my ear, causing Alisha to shoot her a dirty look.

Maybe it's nobody's business what they do, Brandon adds, his trademark lopsided grin even more pronounced than usual. He never takes anything too seriously, in part I suppose because of his near-death experience in the airplane crash. To him, life is like an ice cream cone, better to eat it fast, than wait until it melts in your lap.

Their reaction shouldn't come as much of a surprise to me. After all, if I were the one looking in from the outside I might echo similar concerns. I wasn't sure if I could make them understand that the love between us is as certain as their ability to fly a helicopter with just their minds. The two of us sit silently listening to the divided group voice their opinions on the matter until Ronan finally snaps, All right. That's enough ending the mini debate that our engagement has triggered between them.

There's only one person in this room that we need approval from, and that's Claire, he says looking across the table at the only person who hasn't said a peep since our announcement.

Claire, I love your sister more than anything else in this world. I promise to take care of not only her, but you too. You're not losing a sister; you're gaining a brother. Do you think you can accept me as part of your family? he asks softly.

I have to hand it to him, for someone who's never been around small kids he has an uncanny ability to say just the right thing to Claire to ease her tension.

She looks up from her plate of untouched food, her eyes dancing back and forth between the two of us. You mean you're not going to take her away? she asks innocently, the look of fear, giving way to relief when we both chuckle.

Only for a few weeks after the wedding, and then only when you are old enough to get tired of having us around, he responds smartly, grinning at her when she sends her fork twirling above her plate, plunging it into a piece of chicken.

Sitting back, Burke folds his hands across his chest and it's only when Ronan meets his gaze and his jaw tightens that I'm aware that they are communicating telepathically. When Burke looks at the two of us in disbelief, I immediately know what the conversation is about. For him, it's always about the sex. He shakes his head and mumbles, Big mistake, and Ronan starts to get up from his chair.

Ronan don't. He's entitled to his own opinion, I comment, holding tightly to his hand, until he sits back down. I knew the news would come as a surprise to everyone, but I wasn't prepared for the amount of friction our decision would cause. My earlier elation was slowly dwindling, and I wanted nothing more than to be finished with dinner and the conversation. Besides Ronan had a good point; Claire was the only one who deserved our consideration in the matter, and once she had been reassured that he wasn't going to steal me away from her, she was completely on board with the idea of him officially becoming her big brother.

***

Ronan, do you think we're making a mistake? I ask hesitantly when we are finally alone in our bedroom. It's one of those questions that you ask only when you feel the need to be reassured, and when he doesn't answer immediately, I brace myself for the possibility that he might be having second thoughts.

It's not in my nature to make big decisions that I'm not a hundred percent confident about, nor am I ever influenced by the opinions of others, he says quietly, locking his eyes on mine.

Did you hear my conversation with Alisha? I ask, already reading the answer in his eyes.

Of course, he says, smiling as he slips his shirt over his head.

I glance at his bare chest and quickly look away, clasping my hands behind my back, resisting the urge to jump him.

She may have a point. You have all of these incredible Designer abilities and well, I'm sort of just average. What if you get bored or find another Designer who is better matched with similar talents? Alisha of course didn't put it in those exact words when she cornered me alone in the kitchen after dinner, but she effectively planted the seed that Ronan may meet a Designer in the future who is equally and suitably enhanced for him. I wonder why she would string poor Jason along if she truly has such a Designer superiority complex, but I never got the chance to ask because the conversation ended when Ronan walked in the room.

Cat, he sighs, reaching up to brush his hand across my cheek. You are meant for me. There will never be another woman more suited for me than you. If our age is a problem for you, then just say so, and we'll wait for as many birthday's as you need. But please, don't let your decision about me or us be influenced by others. Do what you feel is right in here, he whispers, letting his hand slide down over my heart and linger over the left side of my chest. He smiles when I tremble under the steady caress of his hand.

My heart says that there is something much deeper drawing us together, and I am meant to be with you and only you, I whisper, wrapping my arms around his neck. He pulls me closer and kisses me tenderly.

I was hoping that's what your heart would say, he says, reaching over and flipping off the bedroom light.

***

Flying is in my blood. My dad was a general aviation pilot, and so were both his parents. I was the only girl in elementary school that traded a roomful of stuffed animals and dolls, for toy airplanes and helicopters. Long before I was allowed to enroll in flying lessons, I was proficient in co-piloting my dad's Beechcraft Bonanza at a cruising altitude. With the blessing and support of both my parents, I enrolled in ground school on my fifteenth birthday, and then a year later I buried my dream of becoming a pilot along with them. Now, on a clear, crisp fall morning, I'm sitting in a small Cessna 172, next to Marti Campbell, a well-known Canadian flight instructor, recommended by Brandon.

Only Ronan would think to give me such a generous birthday gift. I look across the tarmac and catch him staring at us now and my breath lodges in my throat, causing me to gasp. I asked him not to stay and watch today's lesson, but he insisted. His stunning Designer features are always an attention grabber, but today, he looks like some Greek god, standing alone on the tarmac. His golden amber eyes mesmerize me, and, like an idiot, I hold his gaze a fraction of a second too long. Stay focused, Cat. Most aircraft accidents happen, because the pilot is distracted, she says, glancing over at him disapprovingly. She has been flying for over twenty years and has trained hundreds of student pilots. No detail escapes her attention, and she is quick to point out that none of her previous students has ended up in a deadly airplane crash either. I complete the pre-flight checklist and, after I flawlessly radio the tower my flight plan, she nods for me to proceed to the active runway. I feel a moment of panic and glance over at Marti.

Wait, I told you that I've only practiced takeoffs and landings a few times, and that was over a year ago, right? I ask, giving her another opportunity to delay today's lesson.

Yes, Cat. You've already told me. Listen, I've been doing this for a long time, if I didn't think you were ready, I wouldn't be sitting in the right seat. Trust me, you're ready, she says self-assuredly.

Her confidence gives me the needed surge of courage and when the air traffic controller clears me for take-off, I give the aircraft full throttle, easily reaching a climbing speed by mid runway. She's right. Everything comes back to me, like riding a bike and within minutes we are 3000 feet above the ground and I am circling the airport, preparing to do my first touch-n-go landing. An hour later, I've completed five and Marti says if I continue at this pace, I will be ready for a solo flight before the beginning of next year. The elation that I feel, when I pull off the active runway is second only to seeing Ronan standing there, his face brimming with pride.

Running to him, I launch into his arms, wrapping my legs around his waist. I did it! I squeal. He easily supports my weight with one arm as he simulates my near perfect landings with the other hand, making realistic airplane noises as he recaps the event from his perspective.

***

After I finish an hour long rambling narrative, detailing my flying lesson, the drive back to the Freeman property becomes quiet. Ronan listens patiently, his amused expression fading only when I'm finished.

Ronan, is something wrong? I ask tentatively, only now noticing his troubled expression.

He steals a sideway glance and clears his throat. Bernie Stoddard called and wants to start training—tomorrow.

Tomorrow? Why tomorrow? I thought she was going to wait at least until after Thanksgiving, I say trying to hide my disappointment.

She wants to do some preliminary testing on us, over the next few days. We are flying to Nevada tomorrow morning, he says trying to make it sound like it's no big deal.

Can I go too? I ask hopefully, already dreading being separated from Claire and him.

Top Secret facility, even some top military officials have never been there. She won't let any outsiders accompany us, even Jason, he answers quietly, grabbing my hand and locking his fingers around mine.

But I'm Claire's sister, I start to protest, in vain. I hated the thought of being considered an outsider. I was already feeling excluded by the group's ability to connect telepathically, and now being left out of Top Secret military missions, that my not quite, six-year-old sister was heavily involved in, seemed unfair.

We drive in silence and my heart catches in my throat when I look up at him.

There's more isn't there?

He takes a deep breath. "Alisha told her we were planning on getting married and she contacted me privately. She didn't want to say anything to the others until she had more evidence, but felt that you and I should know...

Know what?

She believes that there is a connection between the deaths of all of our family members and was concerned that our marriage might put you in some sort of danger too.

I stare at him waiting for the punch line.

You're joking right?

His jaw tightens and the knuckles on his hand turn white from gripping the steering wheel.

Okay, that has to be the most absurd thing I have ever heard. Please tell me you don't buy it, I say, becoming more annoyed by the second.

Well, I don't know Bernie all that well, but... she doesn't seem like the type that would make such a statement without a whole lot of proof to back it up.

Ronan, did you stop to think that maybe Alisha put her up to it? Or maybe she has her own selfish reasons for not wanting her golden Designer boy distracted with a wedding and a wife. Maybe she wants to make sure you are available for carrying out her undercover secret missions. Or I don't know, maybe she just doesn't think seventeen-year-olds should be getting married, I say accusingly.

Cat, she's one of the most powerful women in America. Do you really think she has the time to trifle with our personal lives? he responds evenly.

Okay, so what do you want to do? I ask, looking out the window so he won't see me blinking back the tears that I couldn't even justify shedding.

I want to keep you safe at all cost. I want a guarantee that you'll go to sleep and wake-up by my side every day, he says, squeezing my hand.

Romancing DNA, I think as an unwarranted tear slowly trickles down my cheek. I let out a big sigh and watch the mile markers on the freeway whiz by trying to make sense of Bernie's warnings. It seemed like such a preposterous theory that I wondered why Ronan would even bother bringing it up to me.

Look Ronan, my parents and brother are dead. Claire and I attended their funerals. I just can't buy the conspiracy theory, I finally reply. And besides, if my relationship with you is a threat to me then so is my relationship to Claire. Would you have me disown her as well?

He shakes his head no. I choose my next words carefully.

I refuse to live my life in fear Ronan. It was my parent's decree to live life to the fullest. My dad used to say, 'You're not truly living if you're riding a train that's standing still. If you want to ride the train of life, then you have to be willing to jump on and off while it's moving; even if it means getting hurt.' So, are you willing to let me jump?

His brows furrow and his whole body seems to tense up as he concentrates on the road ahead. I can tell he's struggling with the question.

Say it. Say you're willing to let me jump, I cheer him on, trying to lighten the mood.

Finally, without saying a word he rolls his eyes in defeat, and raises his right hand. Imitating a train engineer, he pulls a make belief cord, and to my delight lets out the perfect imitation of a locomotive steam whistle.

***

Please make sure they don't push Claire too hard, I whisper in Ronan's ear as the others load their suitcases in Brandon's plane, preparing for their trip to Nevada.

Cat, she has five pairs of eyes watching out for her, she'll be fine. I promise, he says with confidence.

The logical side of me knows he's absolutely right, but the emotional side of me wants to insist she stay home with me. I haven't seen Claire this happy since before the death of our parents. She's no longer solely my responsibility, and now she is thriving under the care of the six other adults in the house; six adults who all have adopted her in some way or another. Jason and Alisha treat her like a daughter. Elizabeth and Michael are like a favorite aunt and uncle. Brandon and Burke are her adventurous older brothers, and Ronan will officially be her brother-in-law in a matter of a few months. I think she's fondest of him, maybe because she sees how happy he makes me, or maybe it's because she knows he loves her like I do.

She wants me to remind you that she wants a horse for her birthday, Ronan says, laughing softly. Claire had made her birthday wishes known to all of us, making sure she had all her bases covered. It really was pointless for her to continue reminding me, as if I were the final decision maker in the matter. The others were already searching the western United States for the perfect breed, then arguing when they couldn't agree on one. Still, it made me feel good that she still considered me as a person of authority.

Jason, Michael and I wait on the back deck watching Brandon take off from his private airstrip. He makes a few circles around the house, than flies east disappearing over the horizon. Michael puts his arm around my shoulder, giving me a comforting squeeze. He hated giving Elizabeth up for the next three days, too. Ronan's kiss lingers on my lips and my body still feels warm inside, like after drinking hot cocoa while standing in a snow storm.

I'll be with you every night, he had whispered, insinuating that he would remotely travel to the Freeman house.

Humph, a lot of good that does me, I reminded him with a less than enthusiastic attitude.

CHAPTER TWO

RONAN

The flight to Nevada takes us a little over four hours, accounting for the one hour time difference. There is a military helicopter waiting for us, just as Bernie said there would be and the flight to the training facility was precisely thirty-three minutes, also just like Bernie said it would be. Eighty-three miles northwest of Las Vegas sits Area 51, Nevada's test and training military base and our home for the next three days. Bernie warned us that we would be blindfolded before being escorted by guards to our quarters, which was an eighteen-minute walk from the main inspection station. Of course, Claire and I witness the whole journey, remotely hovering just above the others. We join them in a mental conference room and describe our surroundings detail by detail. The descent by elevator, six subterranean levels below has Elizabeth a little spooked but her face remains neutral as she lets the guard guide her down a long corridor and through several sets of gray metal doors. Claire and I veer off course to explore every room along the way. We find two large computer rooms, a cafeteria, lab, hospital infirmary, exercise room, and several conference rooms, all full of military personnel.

Claire gives us a disappointing color reading on the majority of people we pass in the hallway— nothing but oranges and blues.

We finally reach a dead end hallway with a single elevator that takes us to the seventh subterranean floor. Our blindfolds are removed and we are standing in a large foyer that, if I didn't know any better, could be that of a five-star hotel. The sitting area to the right is furnished with plush fine leather furniture surrounding a mock rock fireplace, and the front desk ahead is made of expensive mahogany wood. The guard tells us to check in at the desk, and promptly turns around to leave. Alisha kicks into take-charge mode and marches over to the front desk, with the rest of us following.

The attractive desk attendant greets us professionally and asks for Alisha's name. Ah, the Designers, she mutters after a few key strokes on the computer. Okay, how would you like your room accommodations, she asks, eyeing us with modest curiosity.

Alisha naturally speaks on our behalf, requesting one room for the ladies, and one for the gents.

I correct her and tell the clerk that I would prefer a room to myself, and ignore Alisha's dirty look.

The desk clerk hands us our room keys and says, By the way, Ms. Stoddard will meet you in the restaurant area at 6:00 p.m. sharp. The dining area is just around the corner on your left, and your rooms are down the hall on the right. Have a good night, she says, smiling, while looking directly at Burke.