Revelation

by Randi Cooley Wilson

  ***

  I’ve been rubbing my eyes for what feels like hours and now I look like a raccoon. “Aria, help me get this crap off my face,” I whine as I stand at the sink in our attached bathroom.

  She walks in and hands me the eye makeup removal pads. I gratefully take them after having showered and washed my face three times. We’re both in our pajamas, and all I want is to get into bed and crash.

  “Did you have fun?” She hops on the counter, watching me as she brushes her teeth.

  I shrug. “I did. I mean after the whole Asher incident.”

  “Me too. I think even Kenna had a good time.” Aria pretends to faint.

  I smile at her antics. “Did you end up getting Leo’s number?” The question is futile since I know she did.

  Her face splits into a wide grin. “He and I have a date tomorrow evening,” she says around her toothbrush and then spits.

  “What about you? I noticed quite a few hot guys buying you drinks tonight. You gonna make some calls?” she asks, wiggling her eyebrows at me.

  I let out a short laugh. “Maybe.” I sigh. I did get hit on a lot tonight. Take that, Asher St. Michael.

  Aria just studies me for a minute. “I think you should. You need to have some fun. Forget about hot boy for a bit and just enjoy being a normal college girl, Eve,” she says before she heads out of the bathroom.

  My eyes flick back to the mirror as I sigh, pleased that I look like myself again. I brush my teeth and hair then turn out the light and head to bed.

  “It feels so good to lie down.” I groan with contentment. “Those shoes killed me.”

  Aria laughs. “You don’t look dead to me.”

  I close my eyes and give in to the exhaustion that takes my body into a deep slumber.

  4 Blue Flames

  The grey clouds blanket the sky, folding over one another like a cluster of cotton balls. The damp air stifles my ability to breathe. I cross my arms for warmth, attempting to stop the trembles running through my body, partly due to the weather and partly because I know what awaits me.

  I stand on the jagged wall of rocks, my white dress flowing around my body like cascading water. My bare feet are tender from the sharpness of the rocks; yet grateful for the occasional relief of the green moss crawling in patches on the path.

  The unmoving trees project their anger at the approach of a stranger. The eyes of the forest are on me. The dark spirits watch, waiting in anticipation of my arrival. I sense their excitement. I hear their Welsh murmurs.

  “Cartref merch Croeso duw.” They speak softly, welcoming me home.

  From the outside, the castle is gloomy and lifeless. I stare at it with apprehension. My heart pounds with each movement forward. I know what he wants. He wants me.

  Without me, all is lost for him and his dark army.

  I take a step toward the fortress then another and another. Each footstep takes me further away from the one who holds a piece of my heart. It’s the other piece of my heart that pulls me toward the stone prison in front of me. My eyes close in silent prayer I’m not too late.

  Beginning my descent down the uneven path, I faintly hear his voice drifting to me, floating like a feather on the air, caressing my soul. The one my soul knows and hurts to be away from.

  “Come back to me,” he whispers on the wind.

  “I can’t,” I answer in a quiet voice, placing my hand over my heart to ease the ache of not being with him.

  This is my fate. I have to protect him. Focused, I keep moving toward the castle. The voice on the wind reaches me again.

  “I will protect you, always,” he promises.

  I believe him. I know he will come for me.

  My eyes fly open as I wrench upright out of my bed. My heart pounds against my rib cage. The nightshirt I’m wearing is stuck to my sweat covered body. I run my hands over my face and through my hair. I look to my left and see Aria softly snoring in her bed.

  The sunlight streams through the open window, providing only light, not warmth. I shiver at the room’s cool temperature. Exhaling brusquely, I get up to close the window then jump back into bed and pull the covers around my neck, cocooning myself in warmth and an unreal sense of security as I lie on my back and stare up at the ceiling.

  I challenge my body to control the shaking state it’s in from remnants of the dream. I groan, aware it’s going to be a long day. I need coffee. I’m annoyed that I’m probably the only college student awake this early on a Saturday.

  Standing in line, I wait for my caffeine fix while rubbing my temples and trying to ease my dream induced headache and general agitation caused by lack of sleep and the verbal tennis matches from yesterday.

  “Hang over?” a smooth, seductive voice says from over my right shoulder.

  Irritable and annoyed at the intrusion of my personal space, I turn to stare down the perpetrator and my eyes lock with a set of sea green ones.

  I plaster on a fake smile. “No,” I counter and turn back to place my order with the barista.

  Smoldering good looks places a twenty on the counter and politely informs the barista he’ll pay for my order as well as his.

  “Thanks,” I mumble.

  “Anything for a beautiful girl,” he attempts to charm.

  I offer a brief smile and meander to the pick-up counter to wait for my café mocha.

  He follows me then leans against the counter, looking relaxed and commanding at the same time. The good-looking bad boy has an amused smirk; arms crossed while he studies me.

  I clear my throat. “Is there something I can do for you?” I adopt my best no nonsense tone.

  He smiles as if he knows a secret I’m not privy to. It morphs into a light, intriguing laugh. “I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure of meeting. I’m Gage Gallagher,” he offers in a seductive tone meant to draw you in.

  He winks and offers his hand. Tentatively, I place my hand in his, setting off a beautiful and genuine smile across his lips.

  “No fan club today?” I question.

  An eyebrow cocks up as he leans closer. “Envious?” he asks.

  I roll my eyes. “Hardly,” I reply.

  Sea green eyes twinkle with amusement. “Don’t fret, love. I have a feeling you and I are going to be very good friends,” he offers, his gaze never leaving mine.

  “I wasn’t worried.” I fake indifference.

  “So then the beautiful girl will share her name with the handsome stranger?” he muses.

  “Eve Collins,” I offer with caution stemming from my banter with Asher around my name.

  Too-good-looking-for-his-own-good holds my hand securely between his, searching my face for something. Recognition takes over and he swallows hard, causing my eyes to focus on his sexy Adam’s apple.

  His scent is masculine, a combination of cigarettes and spice. The smell stirs something in me.

  Gage looks edible too, dressed in all black similar to the day he was leaning on his car. Today, he’s more casual though in jeans, a v-neck t-shirt, and a long silver chain with a large silver cross hanging off it. Aria was right. He is yummy.

  Placing a chaste kiss on the top of my hand, he cuts my gaping short. “Well, it’s a delight to meet you, Eve Collins,” he replies kindly.

  I pull my hand back as the barista calls my name. I’m uncomfortable. There’s something off about him. It’s hot in here and my flight instincts are kicking in.

  Snatching up my coffee, I turn to find Gage standing in my way of the exit. With my eyes fixated on the door, he smiles down at me but it seems strained.

  “Eve.” He nods in a polite fashion.

  “Gage,” I respond warily.

  He winks, just standing there. Narrowing my eyes, I walk around him and push open the café doors. The light breeze causes a shudder to run through me as I curse myself for not wearing a jacket. I wrap my scarf around my neck tighter, making an effort to increase the flow of warmth to my body. It’s not working.

  “Co
ld?” A deep, cocky voice greets me.

  I look up to see Asher leaning against a black Aston Martin DB9, my dream car. Damn if he isn’t looking every bit as delicious as he normally does. I really need to get my head examined.

  My lips form a tight line. “Why do you care?” It comes out harsher than I meant it too. Why does this guy get under my skin?

  The unnerving guy holds his stance, his scrutiny still focused on me. I try to ignore the burning sensation his gaze causes as it settles into my skin. I’m definitely not cold anymore.

  Asher breaks the awkward silence after a few moments. “Do I make you anxious, Eve?”

  “No.” I shiver but for a different reason now. My name sounds like a prayer on his lips.

  Nodding his head in understanding, he prowls over to me like a predator who has its prey in their trap. “You sure?” he whispers.

  Holding my position, I lift my chin and attempt to show him he doesn’t affect me. “Yes.”

  Asher stops in front of me, bends down and forces me to look him in the eye. My eyelids flutter just the tiniest bit at his body’s nearness to mine. Damn traitorous body.

  The corners of his mouth lift smugly as he moves closer. So close I can feel his minty warm breath on my lips. Chuckling quietly, he takes off his jacket and my heart begins doing back flips. His shoulders are really broad. Slowly, he leans forward, wrapping his leather coat over my shoulders, engulfing me with warmth and his intoxicating scent.

  His lips brush the tip of my ear and he whispers, “Breathe.”

  As soon as the word is off his lips, I will my body not to convulse right there. Large hands grip my waist to steady me so I don’t fall and make a complete ass of myself.

  Being this close to him is making me lightheaded. I sway, my body humming with a strange energy. I think I might just black out.

  “S-sorry,” slips from my lips.

  “I’ve got you,” he says, increasing the pressure of his hold.

  His words set off a strange sense of déjà vu but it disappears, replaced by the bizarre need to stay in his strong, secure arms forever.

  Asher’s face softens as he looks at me, almost as if he’s seeing me for the first time. I hold back the small sigh that begs to come out as he runs both his hands up my arms, steadying me before placing one on each side of my neck.

  My eyes lift and lock with his. I swear he looks like he wants to kiss me. To be honest, it’s all I want him to do right now. We hold this position, time standing still, until I break the moment as my eyes flick to his arm, landing on the Celtic cross tattoo.

  Awareness hits him that I’m concentrating on his inked artwork and it changes his demeanor from warm and soft to cautious and on edge. His intense voice cuts through the silence.

  “Let’s try this again. Like what you see, siren?”

  He drops his hands and steps back, cocking his head to the side. Gone is gentle Asher and in his place is the cocky jerk. I’m getting whiplash from all his mood swings.

  “I’ve seen better,” I retort with a fake smile.

  “So have I,” he shoots back as his eyes wander up my legs to my chest and then to my mouth.

  “Whatever,” I say, rolling my eyes. “What are you even doing here? Are you following me?”

  He points behind me to the café. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m here to grab a coffee.”

  Crap. I’m at the coffee shop. I groan. “I just, I mean, I meant. Well, I’m here most Saturdays and I’ve never seen you before, so...” Well, that was articulate, Eve.

  He arches a brow. “Does that disappoint you?”

  I scrunch my nose in annoyance. “No, that’s not what I meant. Would you please stop twisting my words for one second so I can think straight and perhaps be able to articulate clearly and somewhat verbosely.”

  Asher smiles. A real smile. It’s not forced. It looks so good on him he should do it more often.

  He raises his brows. “Okay, sweetheart. I’m waiting. Please enlighten me with your stellar, verbose dialogue,” he mocks my word choice.

  I ignore him. “Stop. Calling. Me. Sweetheart,” I grate out of clenched teeth. I hold my breath, trying to control my anger.

  “Eve? Is Mr. St. Michael being a nuisance to you, love?” Gage questions from behind me.

  Asher’s expression darkens at the sight of Gage. His playful demeanor is gone and in its place is a cold pretense as his posture becomes authoritative. He steps around me, placing himself between us in a protective maneuver as I turn to face Gage.

  “Asher, not surprising to see you here,” Gage muses. “I would ask why you are,” his eyes slide over to me then back to Asher, “but I’m guessing I already know the answer to that question.”

  Asher stands motionless, arms crossed in a warrior pose, ready to attack at any moment.

  Gage slowly shakes his head. “I presume we’re on different sides this time, something new for us, old friend,” he says with boredom.

  My brows pull together in response to their exchange.

  “Do you two know each other?” I ask.

  Asher’s face is still stoic. “Something like that.” He briefly glances back at me, softening his expression before shifting back to Gage.

  Gage watches our interaction, his face reflective. “Always the protector, Asher. Duty, honor, and loyalty above all else,” he taunts.

  Asher ignores the jab, but I notice his shoulders tense. “What are you doing here, Gage?”

  Gage smiles though it’s void of emotion. He leans into Asher, speaking directly to him in a very low tone so I can barely hear their exchange. “Ui vid lem kredon hiuman in-saengkt ku drak ágra-lem.” Once done, he retreats back and looks almost disappointed.

  Asher’s face becomes cocky once more as he too converses in a low, secretive voice. “Via, qua-lem plú ben de in-saengkt de des-por de arc de drak ágra-lem.” Are they speaking another language? I question the oddity of it, but their voices are so low, I can’t be sure.

  I sigh, annoyed to be left out of their private conversation. Gage finally gets tired of Asher’s intimidation and turns in a lazy manner toward his car, walking past me and tipping his head in my direction. “Eve, it was a pleasure.”

  Before Gage gets into the driver’s seat, he spins back to Asher. “Oh, Asher, please do give Michael Deacon’s best.” Satisfied he has goaded Asher, he smiles, gets in his car, and drives off.

  Asher just stares with an intense heat in the direction Gage left in. “Fuck,” he growls out.

  Anticipating some type of explanation, I twist to face Asher. He’s in deep thought, ignoring me. Okay then. I’m restless, tired, and like everyone else on campus, I just want to go back to bed.

  Pacing agitatedly, Asher takes out his cell phone to make a call, allowing for my escape. Without a word, I turn and start walking toward the student pathway connecting the college to the downtown area that is hidden in the dense woods.

  “Eve, wait,” he demands from behind me.

  “Goodbye, Asher,” I throw over my shoulder.

  “Dammit, Eve, stop walking,” I hear him ground out.

  I keep going, focused on the tree-lined area in front of me. Just as I get to the path, Asher gently grabs my arm, forcing me to turn around so I’m facing him. Crap, he’s fast.

  “What?” I screech, surprised with how quickly he got to me.

  “Let me take you back to the dorm. It’s safer than walking through the woods of a college campus when no one is around,” he offers, nodding to the trees.

  I’m not used to being looked after, so Asher’s sudden concern causes my throat to go dry.

  “Asher, I’ve done this a thousand times. Please let go of me.” I attempt to squirm out of his clutches.

  It’s then I realize I’m still wearing his leather jacket. I put my coffee on the ground and move to take it off when a low growl emanates from behind me. I look up at Asher, startled.

  His striking face pales and his horrified fo
cus shifts behind me, locking in on the wooded area. In the blink of an eye, he grabs my upper arms, pressing me to his solid chest.

  His voice is so low and uptight I can barely hear him. “I need you to stay calm.” Well, shit, that can’t be good. Frightened, I lift my gaze.

  Asher shifts his focus to me. Sympathy mars his striking features. The thing growls again in warning, causing fear to take over my body. Asher, however, is composed while trying to keep me calm.

  With a serious tone, he snaps his head back to the woods. “There’s a large, black dog behind you and it looks like it might be rabid so we need to do this very carefully. Understand?” He’s obviously worried.

  “Do what?” I ask as the panic sets in while the dog releases another unnatural hiss. “By the way, Asher, that most certainly does not sound like a dog. A wolf maybe, a dog not so much.” My voice sounds petrified and hysterical.

  At my tone, his expression becomes stern. “I’m going to slowly switch your position so you’re behind me and I’m standing in front, blocking it from you. When I do, I want you to gradually,” he blows out a long breath, “back away and run to the Aston Martin. It’s unlocked.”

  I swallow hard, terrified to stay but at the same time, frightened to leave him.

  “You’re not to look back. I want you to wait for me in the car and lock it. Do not open the doors for anyone. Do you understand?” Asher speaks unhurriedly, not spooking me.

  I nod my agreement. “What about you? Shouldn’t we call someone or get help?” My voice quivers. I scan the area and notice we’re alone. My body panics at thoughts of physically leaving him.

  The animal growls again, causing Asher to stiffen. “There’s no time. I’m going to move you now. Ready?”

  “Not really but what choice do I have?”

  At a slow pace, Asher relocates me behind him. The motion angers the animal and it sneers at us. I tighten my hold on Asher’s right arm, which is stretched behind him and wrapped around me. The animal lurks closer and we both remain still.

  From this position, I get a good look at the predator. This creature is a monstrosity. Its black fur is sticking straight up. Glowing yellow eyes are fixed on us, and a snarled mouth is showing off its razor sharp teeth. I shiver as I notice its huge claws are twice the size of me.

  Scared to death, I clutch Asher tighter. “That’s a cross between a werewolf and panther. It’s definitely not a friggin’ rabid dog!” I whisper yell.

  “Relax, siren. I’ve got this.” He tries to reassure me. I’m amazed he sounds like he’s suppressing a laugh. His attempt to calm is not working. I’m not at ease in the least.

  The large beast tilts its head as if listening to our conversation, its eyes narrow while it sniffs the air. Oh my god. Can it understand us?

  “Please tell me you don’t have meat or something in your pocket,” I joke through my nervousness.

  “Eve,” Asher warns. “I want you to slowly back away. Now.”

  I let go of Asher’s arm and turn at the same time the dog-like creature pounces on top of him, scratching his chest. Blood begins to coat his t-shirt.

  “Fuck,” Asher growls out in pain. “EVE, RUN!” he commands in a firm tone.

  I swallow a scream, watching Asher writhe in pain in front of me while fighting the evil animal. It gnashes its large teeth, growling and hissing in his face as he grabs its mouth, attempting to clamp it shut with both hands.

  Realizing Asher is pinned, I rebelliously lock eyes with the creature. “Hey, mongrel, leave him alone,” I taunt.

  It snaps its head up in a sharp, fluid motion, pushing out of Asher’s hold. Then it narrows its chilling eyes at me and rushes toward where I am. I spin and run as I hear Asher shout, “DAMMIT, EVE!”

  Taking a chance, I look back over my shoulder just as the angry creature swats its paw, barely missing me but causing me to stumble forward.

  As I land on the grassy ground, my head hits the green earth with a small thud. Fuck that hurt. I squeeze my eyes shut and wait for the attack, but it never comes. After a brief moment, I throw them open, fearing for Asher.

  I rotate onto my back only to see he has the animal restrained on the ground. His hands are wrapped around its neck, squeezing as he straddles it. What the hell?

  I hear Asher’s deep, menacing voice. “Beidh mé tú a mharú go mall agus millteanach,” he threatens through clenched teeth as he releases his hold and jumps off the monstrosity.

  In an instant, the beast vanishes in blue flames. I shut my eyes then quickly open them, thinking I’ve gone crazy. When I look at the area again, there’s nothing except Asher watching me with pensive eyes.

  In four long strides, he’s in front of me, crouching so we’re eye level. Without hesitation, he brushes the hair and grass off my face then cups the sides of my head, holding it still.

  “Eve,” he says calmly, but his anxious eyes glide all along my body, looking for injuries.

  “I’m okay.” I exhale deeply to reassure him. With a shaking hand, I brush over the spot on my head where the welt is starting to form and a dull ache is throbbing. “Thank you,” I offer but I think I’m in shock.

  Asher breathes out in uneven spurts, still panting from the fight. “Shit. You’re so stubborn,” he grunts out once he sees me conscious and blood-free. “Next time, run,” he scolds, offering me his hands and pulling me to a standing position.

  “Next time?” I breathe out. “By the way, that was so not a dog,” I say in an inaudible yet strained voice.

  He lets out a short laugh.

  I groan. “I think I’m going to be sick,” I mention while shaking uncontrollably.

  Asher pulls me into a secure embrace, rubbing my back in a methodic motion. “It’s okay, I’ve got you,” he assures with compassion. “It’s just the adrenaline running through you. As soon as your body relaxes, the nauseous feeling will pass.”

  Being this close to him gives me a good view of the blood on his shirt. “Are you okay?” I lean back and scan his chest and face.

  He looks down at his shirt and back at me with devastatingly beautiful eyes. “I’m fine. It’s a scratch. It looks worse than it is,” he explains in an easy way and the blue in his eyes deepens.

  I scrutinize his face, not believing him. “What was that language you were speaking,” I ask, changing the subject.

  “Gaelic. I thought perhaps it would calm it,” he offers casually and shrugs. Odd.

  I study him. “You thought Gaelic would calm it? What did you say?” I demand.

  Asher sighs. “I told it I would kill it slowly and painfully.” He cringes as he watches my reaction.

  I snort and touch my head where it connected with the ground. “Is it the same language you used with Gage?”

  “No. Can you walk?” He motions to the car, shutting down the questions.

  “Yes.” Without warning, his palm is on my lower back, causing my skin to warm under the touch as he guides me toward the car.

  At the contact, my body begins to relax and crash from the adrenaline high. I start to shake again. “Where did it go? It just vanished into blue flames.” My voice is becoming mildly hyper.

  Asher stops walking, turns to me, and studies my face with an intense and straight expression. “It ran away limping. I think I choked it enough it got scared and ran into the woods.”

  I shake my head. “Asher, I saw it with my own two eyes. You pinned it, strangled it, then poof, it turned into blue flames.” As I recount what I witnessed, my eyes don’t leave his.

  Uncertainty crosses over him for a moment then he becomes rigid. “I didn’t see any blue flames. Eve, just get in the car,” he commands.

  “Excuse me?” It comes out somewhat irate. He did not just order me around after disregarding what I saw.

  “I said, get in the car, now!” His voice is calm and controlled.

  “You’re kidding, right?” I stand there with my arms folded, not budging an inch.

  Aggravated as if he’s d
ealing with a petulant child, he takes out his cell phone and makes a call. His voice is cool while he irately instructs someone on the phone to make the call. A few seconds later, my cell phone rings.

  “Answer it,” Asher demands.

  “What?” I shriek in annoyance.

  “Your phone, answer it.” He says each word at a slow pace while pointing to my bag.

  I give him the death glare and pull my phone out of the bag. “Hello,” I answer.

  “Hi, Eve. It’s Abby. Asher just told me what happened with the crazy dog. He said you hit your head and are seeing blue spots. Are you okay?” she questions with an edge in her voice.

  I exhale a short breath. “I’m fine, Abby.”

  “Oh, thank goodness,” she replies in relief. “Listen, Kenna and I are at Asher’s house. He happens to be a very close family friend. Once a week, we meet up with him and his brothers for dinner. Why don’t you come back with him? You can tell us everything, rest, have dinner and I’ll take you back to the dorms myself when we’re done. Please, I’m awfully worried about you,” She’s trying to guilt me into agreeing.

  I chew on the inside of my cheek and whisper into the phone. “I don’t know, Abby. I really don’t want to impose on a family thing and to be honest, I’m pretty shaken up by this dog attack.”

  “That’s exactly why you should be with us tonight. Come on, we’ll take good care of you. I promise there is no imposition,” she begs.

  “What about Aria? I can’t just leave her.” I rub my head, which is still aching.

  “She’s out with Leo tonight. Besides, what if you have a concussion and fall asleep in the dorm without any of us there? Please. We would love to have you. Just trust me on this,” Abby pleads some more.

  I hold the phone to my ear while watching Asher. He’s agitated. His eyes are darting everywhere as if he’s on high alert, looking for danger. It’s making me nervous.

  Too tired and freaked out to put up a fight, I huff.

  “Fine.”

  She squeals a “thank you” as I hang up.

  I quickly text Aria to let her know where I’ll be this evening and throw my phone in my bag then shift my focus to Asher.

  “You know, you could have just politely asked me to come. You didn’t need to sic Abby on me with all the dramatics.”

  He narrows his eyes. “Would you have said yes if I simply invited you to my home?” He’s right. I would have said no. No, wait, make that HELL NO!

  I concede by throwing my hands up in frustration. I take a moment to study him. Trying to figure him out is like doing a math problem. It’s making my migraine worse.

  “Great. Get in the car,” he barks. I raise an eyebrow at him, unmoving. “Please,” he adds.

  Proud of myself for winning a round, I smile and move toward the car. It’s off to Asher’s for family dinner night. Yippee. The sarcastic delight must be written all over my face because he picks up on it.

  Asher blows out a long, exaggerated breath, looking drained. “Listen, let’s just try to get through tonight without killing each other. Then, we never have to speak again if that’s what you want.”

  Placing his hand on the small of my back, he guides me to the passenger’s side of the car. Once I’m in, he closes the door and makes his way around to the driver’s side.

  I have to admit, part of me is giddy to be sitting in my dream car. The leather is so soft and the entire car smells like Asher. I peek over at him. He’s just sitting there, watching me. His eyes have become softer.

  “Wait here a minute,” he demands in a quiet tone as he gets out of the car and runs into the coffee shop. A few moments later, Asher reappears with a cup of ice and some napkins.

  Once back inside the car, he places the cup in the cup holder then folds some ice in one of the napkins. Turning to me he gently brushes my hair away from the side of my face that’s sporting the bump. With a light touch, he applies the ice to the spot where my welt is now showing. I wince from the cold but my body relaxes from the intimate gesture.

  “Tender?” he asks. His voice is low and hoarse.

  “A little.” I offer a polite smile.

  He just stares at me. “You really scared the shit out of me when you taunted that thing, siren. Don’t ever fucking do that to me again, understood?” His blue eyes hold mine.

  “Okay.” My gaze floats over him, stopping at the blood on his chest and I become weary, reminded of the vicious animal attack. Maybe I did hit my head harder than I thought. Animals don’t just disappear into blue flames, right? I start chewing on the inside of my cheek.

  “Okay,” he repeats and takes my small hand in his large one, flooding my body with heat as he raises the two and places my hand on the make shift ice pack. “Hold this here while I drive.” He looks forward and starts the car.

  I clutch his leather jacket as if it’s a safety blanket and buckle my seatbelt while he pulls out of the parking lot.

  5 La Gargouille

  I stare at the muscles on Asher’s right arm as he shifts gears, driving us out of the parking lot and onto a main road. The way he handles the vehicle is so attractive. He’s controlled and focused as his left hand guides the steering wheel, commanding the sports car where he wants it to go as if it’s an extension of him.

  My gaze roams his arms and I notice the thick leather bracelets he wears on each wrist. They have some kind of black stone interweaved in them. I let my ogling eyes wander up to his striking face. It’s tight and fixated on the tree-lined road ahead of us.

  The car’s suspension is smooth, lulling me into a relaxed state as I concentrate on his five o’clock shadow, a constant fixture on his beautiful face. I heave a sigh of contentment and contemplate how it would feel to run my hands over his jaw and cup his face.

  Asher shifts uncomfortably in his seat, most likely because I’m gawking at him like a psychotic stalker.

  He always looks like he’s on guard. As if at any moment he might need to jump into battle. I have an overwhelming need to touch him and kiss the lines between his brows. This silence and my ogling cause a lingering uneasiness. I have to put an end to both.

  I turn and watch the landscape roll by through the passenger window as we leave the Kingsley College area. “So, you’re family friends of McKenna and Abby?” I ask then chastise myself. That was riveting dialogue, Eve.

  “Yes.” His glance slides to me then back to the road. “McKenna is dating my brother, Keegan, and Abby is seeing my other brother, Callan,” he replies.

  Interesting. Nothing like keeping it all in the family, I internally snicker. “How did you all meet?” I ask to keep the discussion going.

  “We grew up together. Our families were long time friends,” he answers through a stressed jaw.

  “So you all go to Kingsley together?” I press.

  “No.” Asher doesn’t elaborate as we drive out of town.

  I want to keep the conversation moving. My need to know more about him is becoming an unhealthy obsession.

  “Are you from around here? I thought I detected a slight accent. Plus it seems you speak Gaelic fluently,” I throw out with a sarcastic edge.

  His jaw tenses again. “I was born in New York but my family moved to London when I was very young. We traveled between New York, England, Ireland, France, and Scotland quite a bit for my father’s job. I guess I picked up a trace of an accent here and there, as well as the languages. I can also speak French, Latin, and Welsh.” He ponders this as if it’s the first time he’s considering that he has an accent or speaks multiple languages with such ease.

  “What does your father do for work?”

  His face turns guarded and defensive. “He was in politics and private security. Mainly working with religious politicians,” Asher answers but it sounds contrived.

  “Is he retired?” I dig deeper.

  “No,” he shakes his head, his tone short and distant.

  “And your mother, what does she do?”

&nb
sp; This one sided conversation is like pulling teeth.

  “She was in the same line of work,” he replies with a slight annoyance forming on the outskirts of his voice.

  I notice his use of the past tense when speaking about his parents. “Are they in New York or back in London?”

  “Eve, listen, I don’t mean to be unkind but both my parents are no longer with us. I would prefer not to talk about them,” he expresses, successfully ending my line of questioning.

  “Of course. I’m sorry to hear that. I lost both my parents too, but that was when I was a baby. I know the void that leaves with you,” I offer with sincere empathy.

  Indecision flashed across his face, but then it was gone. The hand on the shifter comes off, reaching for mine. He takes my hand in his for the briefest moment and squeezes before releasing it. My body responds immediately to his touch and then diminishes just as fast at the loss of contact.

  Asher’s demeanor changes again, alerting me his annoyance levels are rising. I need to change the dialogue to a neutral topic.

  “Are you the oldest, middle, or youngest child? I mean, you said you have only the two brothers Keegan and Callan?” I inquire, aching to learn more about him.

  He seems to relax as he answers. “Keegan is what you would consider twenty-three, I’m twenty, and Callan is eighteen.” He smirks. “I suppose, technically, that makes me the middle child. No other siblings.”

  I pull my brows together in confusion. “What you consider?” I ask. “That’s an odd choice of words.”

  He pauses, selecting his next words with care. “I just meant that age tends not to be a big deal in our family. It’s not like we keep track of who’s older and who’s younger.”

  Weird.

  “I turned eighteen in May,” I offer. “I was always the youngest in my class. It sucked.” That earned me a chuckle.

  “Well, I think you’ll find eighteen changes everything, so I wouldn’t worry about the past.” His gaze lingers on me for a moment.

  His eyes seem older than twenty. There’s a lifetime of wisdom, sorrow, and obscurity behind them. As if he’s lived an existence of never ending heartache. Maybe that’s why he’s so aloof. I turn to look out the passenger window, enjoying the rest of the ride in comfortable silence.

  Asher drives us to an adjacent town about forty minutes outside of campus that locals consider to be full of ‘old money.’ The estates here are massive, each with their own personality. They’re meticulously cared for and maintained, right down to their impeccable lawns, safeguarded behind tall gates.

  I’m seriously wondering what he is doing in this section of town. Breaking my contemplation, he slows down and pulls up to an intimidating, medieval wrought iron gate, adorned with large and fierce looking dragonheads on each side.

  After pressing some numbers on the high tech keypad and scanning his thumbprint, the gates creak open, allowing us entry. We continue driving on a long, cobbled, circular driveway leading to an off white stone mansion.

  My eyes dart around, taking everything in. “This is your home?” I ask in awe.

  “Yes.” He smiles at me with pride. Asher follows the circular driveway toward the estate and parks next to a motorcycle and multiple expensive-looking cars. The only one I recognize is Abby’s black Mini Cooper.

  In the center of the round driveway is an enormous, ornate, off white water fountain showcasing the same dragonheads as the gate. It’s made of smooth granite and the dragonheads have water streaming out of their mouths into the pool below. The entire sight is beyond gorgeous.

  The front yard is covered in flowers and beautiful topiaries. It’s so peaceful here. Asher cuts the engine and turns to face me, hesitancy crossing his face.

  The next moment, he’s out of the car. Walking around to the passenger side, he opens the door and offers his hand. I take it, attempting a graceful exit. His eyes are fixed on mine. The intensity causes a shiver to ripple through my body. Again, the strange warmth hums inside my veins at his touch.

  “Thanks,” I manage to say with a hint of shyness.

  “No problem.”

  His eyes drop to my parted lips. Needing to retreat, I step away, my back colliding with the car. Asher drops my hand, steps forward, and cages me in with one arm on each side of the car. I hold my breath at the proximity and in anticipation of his next move.

  Lifting his right hand, he brushes my hair over my shoulder, exposing my neck. His fingertips lightly caress the spot on my head that met the ground earlier. Goose bumps rise on my skin at the intimate gesture.

  Without thought, my tongue darts out and licks my bottom lip. His eyes flicker to it before narrowing again, masking whatever emotion might have been there. Asher squeezes his eyes closed and then open, as if forcing himself to come out of a trance. Then he steps back, putting distance between us.

  “Abby’s waiting. We should get going,” he grumbles.

  “Okay.” It’s all I can manage after the intensity of the moment.

  What just happened? I move away from the car as he shuts the door and places his hand on the small of my back. It’s becoming a bit of a habit with him. He guides me up the few steps to the two large, dark brown, wooden front doors, adorned with the same dragonheads from the gate and in the fountain. These people certainly love dragons.

  To the right of the entrance is a plaque set within one of the home’s stones. La Gargouille Manor. Interesting. Just as I’m about to ask Asher what it means, the heavy doors groan open and Abby is standing there, staring at Asher with a worried look on her face. It washes away and turns into relief as soon as she sees me, quickly snagging me into a stern hug.

  “Abigail, give her some breathing room. She’s fine,” Asher says. His hand is still on my lower back, branding me while he guides me out of her hold and into the largest foyer I’ve ever seen.

  The interior walls are crafted of an off white stone which is soft and warm. Directly in front of us is a grand staircase that leads to the second floor landing, which is open and overlooks the entryway.

  The stairs are made of dark hardwood and black iron railings. In the center of the ceiling is a black wrought iron chandelier, featuring what seems to be candles, but upon closer inspection, I notice they’re actually flameless. Under the circular chandelier is a round granite table decorated with red snapdragons in a large medieval vase.

  There are paintings on the walls of castles and, I think, European churches, but what really catches my eye are the beautiful stone statues displayed in alcoves all around the foyer and into the hallways. The entire manor has a modern medieval feel to it. Professor Davidson would love this.

  Abby shuts the doors and uses her most cheerful voice. “Eve, welcome to La Gargouille Manor. We’re so happy you’re here.” She takes my hand, pulling me away from Asher. The warmth of his touch leaves me wanting it back.

  Tugging at my arm, she drags me down a long hallway designed in a similar décor as the foyer. My eyes scan everywhere as Abby hauls me into a considerable family room.

  The softly lit room is adorned with a massive, brown leather sectional, a big fireplace blazing with a generous fire, and beautiful antique wooden tables. Next to the fire are two wingback chairs and a flat screen TV hangs over the fireplace, airing a football game.

  Floor to ceiling windows and French doors allow the natural light to filter into the room, bouncing off the dark hardwood floors and stunning stonework on the walls.

  My attention is drawn to McKenna, who’s playing pool with a guy that looks similar to Asher. His brown hair is longer on top and perfectly styled. He’s wearing tailored black pants and a dark grey button-up shirt with the top button undone and sleeves rolled to his elbows, showing off the same Celtic cross tattoo on his forearm. The attractive guy also wears the same leather bracelets on both wrists as Asher, although his stones are red.

  Though I see the similarities in the two, this man looks much more reserved with a quiet intelligence about him. H
e hits his shot. Stripes in the corner pocket. Pleased with himself, his blue eyes look up at me and he stands to his full height.

  “Eve, this is my,” Asher pauses before catching himself, “older brother, Keegan St. Michael. Keegan, Eve.”

  Keegan walks over to me with a very debonair swagger, holding out his hand and shaking mine in a formal way. “Pleasure, Eve.” His smile is polite.

  I didn’t think it possible, but this brother seems even more standoffish and intimidating than Asher. He’s extremely muscular, giving off a fierce warrior vibe. I get the impression he would win a bar fight with his eyes closed.

  “Hi,” I respond.

  McKenna saunters up to us, entwining her arm through Keegan’s and tightening her eyes at me. “Hello, Eve.” The ice queen sounds even more thrilled about me being here than I am.

  Clearly she’s marking her territory. She should just pee on him while she’s at it. Keegan steps back and places his arm around her shoulder and she relaxes into his side.

  I respond by putting on my fakest and sweetest tone. “Hi, McKenna. As always, it’s delightful to see you.”

  Suddenly, I’m jerked away by another Asher look-a-like with my back to his very muscular chest. He’s squeezing me so hard in a bear hug I might pass out from the lack of oxygen. Evidently, this person has no issues with physical contact or boundaries. Jeez, this must be the other brother, Callan. Are they all on steroids?

  “Eves.” I guess that’s his nickname for me. “So good to have you here with us,” he says with a great amount of enthusiasm.

  “Um, thanks. Do you think you could loosen your grip on my lungs?” I plead, needing air.

  He lets me go. “Oh, of course. Sorry about that.” Callan’s voice sounds amused and less than apologetic.

  I turn around, caught off guard by how different he is, both in personality and appearance compared to his brothers.

  Callan has the same height, muscular build, and physical features, and not surprising, he also has the same piercing blue eyes and short, dark brown hair. This brother also has a Celtic cross arm tattoo and leather wristbands with green stones on his arms.

  However, unlike Keegan and Asher, he doesn’t have the hard edge to him that makes them frightening and intimidating. Callan’s entire demeanor screams laid back and easy going. His eyes and features are kind and warm.

  Also unlike Keegan and Asher, his fashion style is a bit more casual because he’s wearing frayed jeans, flip flops, and a grey t-shirt that reads: I refuse to engage in a battle of wits with an unarmed person.

  “Eve, this big teddy bear is my guy and Asher and Keegan’s younger brother, Callan St. Michael,” Abby states.

  At his introduction, Callan gives me a mega-watt toothy grin. “Nice to officially meet you, Eves. Welcome to the family, cutie,” he says in the most sincere way.

  My eyebrows lift in bewilderment. “Officially?”

  Everyone tenses. “Abby hasn’t stopped talking about her ‘new roommate’ and ‘friend’ Eve,” he teases. “It’s like we’ve gotten to know you second hand.”

  I smile. “Yeah, I’m pretty fond of Abby myself.”

  McKenna snorts behind me.

  Callan places a kiss on Abby’s cheek as she blushes.

  “It’s true. My girl is loved by all.”

  Abby swats him away with a smile. It’s obvious they enjoy teasing one another and are in love. For a fleeting moment, I’m jealous of their relationship. It would be nice to have someone like that in my life. I look around the room and my eyes land on Asher. He’s just watching me with an unreadable expression. It’s almost like he’s in shock that I’m standing in his house with his family.

  “How are you feeling? Asher said you hit your head running from a crazy dog,” Keegan inquires.

  My gaze catches Asher’s. “I’m fine. It’s just a slight bump. No big deal. Asher was the one who got scratched up pretty badly on his chest.” I point toward him.

  All eyes in the room turn to Asher for further explanation.

  “It was a small scratch.” He shrugs. “We’re lucky the dog didn’t bite us. I think it had rabies.”

  “Wow, what an unbelievable ordeal,” Callan says, blowing out a breath.

  “Yes, very unbelievable,” I reply, narrowing my eyes at Asher.

  He shifts uncomfortably. “Well, now that introductions have been made, Abby, why don’t you take Eve around and show her the house and grounds?” Asher suggests, changing the topic of discussion.

  Callan turns to Asher, grinning from ear-to-ear. “Actually, Ash, Abby agreed to help me go shopping for dinner so perhaps you should take our beautiful guest on a tour. I don't know... maybe start with your bedroom.” He wiggles his eyebrows at his brother, using an innocent tone.

  “Callan.” His name sounds more like a firm and authoritative warning coming from Keegan versus a statement.

  “Eves, we’ll see you in a bit. Ignore Asher’s attitude. He likes to brood. It’s what the ladies seem to like about him,” Callan teases and walks out with Abby while the four of us stand there awkwardly.

  McKenna attempts politeness, but her tight face makes it hard to believe. “Eve, would you like something to drink or perhaps to sit down?”

  “No, thanks.”

  Asher steps in. “Why don’t I show you around. It will be less, uncomfortable.” He forces a small smile, glaring at McKenna.

  “Okay,” I agree, grateful to leave this room.

  He pauses, looking down at himself. “First though, we should clean up. We look like we’ve been attacked by a pack of dogs,” he jokes.

  “Abby and I have guest rooms here. She left some clothes for you to borrow in her room. There’s also a private bathroom with fresh towels for you to clean up,” McKenna informs me in a hospitable manner. Weird.

  Asher walks over to me, placing his hand on the small of my back in his usual place, leading me out of what I now have dubbed, ‘the tension room.’