***
I walk into class and scan the lecture hall then exhale my relief that Asher isn’t anywhere in the room. Just as I start to get comfortable, that familiar heat worms its way into my veins, alerting me of his presence. Crap. I pretend not to care, focusing on opening my iPad to take notes.
Asher walks up the stairs to his seat. As he passes by me, his scent engulfs my nose, causing me to breathe him in. He doesn’t even glance at me. I’m not sure whether I’m relieved or saddened by that.
I keep my features schooled and face forward, listening attentively to Professor Davidson.
Every so often, I can feel his stare. I hate that I’m so aware of him, where he is, and what he’s doing. Maybe I need a hobby. Or maybe he injected me with his blood while I was sleeping so he would affect me. I laugh at my own disturbing joke.
Professor Davidson sets up the power point. He has pictures he’s excited to share. Ugh, kill me now. “Good Afternoon. Today we’ll begin our week long lecture series about thirteenth century Gothic architecture,” he drones on.
Sensing Asher’s glare again, I tighten my lips in an attempt to look as pissed off as I possibly can. This just increases the headache that is coming on. I rub my temples, trying to ease the pressure and refocus on Professor Davidson and my vision becomes a little askew.
Professor Davidson’s voice begins to sound as if I’m in a tunnel, echoing in my ears. “Gothic architecture originated in France in the twelfth century and lasted through the sixteenth century. Its best-known application is throughout many European cathedrals and abbeys, as well as castles and palaces. It’s the architecture of the late medieval period distinguished by use of pointed arches, vaulted ceilings, and flying buttresses. Unlike Romanesque, Gothic is all about height. It’s also been well-documented that the Gothic period brought about grotesques and gargoyles.”
I blink a few times to try and clear the fog that is settling in my head.
My lids flutter, suddenly overcome with the need to close them. Of their own accord, they shut for just the briefest moment.
I’m standing in a lavish grass meadow surrounded by lush green weeping willow trees. Their branches drape elegantly, giving the impression of curtains, warmly wrapping me in the forest’s loving embrace. There are massive patches of wild flowers in white, soft pinks, and blues blanketing rolling hills, flanked by streams of crystal blue water.
As my eyes scan the area, I notice it’s snowing. No wait, my eyes lift to the sky and I realize they’re not snowflakes falling. They’re white flower petals. Millions of white petals descend from the deep blue sky and lay elegantly all around me. I lift my hands to try and catch them. I can’t. Oddly, they dissolve on contact.
I am pulled from my wonder by the sound of giggling. I look around the bright green canopy, absorbing the intense color of the flowers and crystal blue water. My eyes settle on little glowing lights that twinkle like stars. Curious, I begin to glide gracefully toward the pink, amber, and blue sparkling lights.
Just as I’m about to reach out my hand to touch the spots of radiance, a vivid emerald light shines, causing me to squint my eyes and step back from the dazzling glow.
When I reopen them, in place of the brightness is one of the most beautiful creatures I’ve ever seen. She’s so regal, like a queen who appears to be floating in air. I stand there, motionless, stunned by her beauty.
“Welcome, Batya.” She bows gracefully to me, causing me to swallow and step back.
“Please, do not retreat. There is nothing to fear,” a warm, gentle, angelic voice sings to me from her soft pink lips.
The hovering woman is wearing a deep emerald green Grecian dress that ripples in the air like water. Her bare feet, legs, and arms are adorned with gold rune tattoos that glisten and move on her skin. I watch them travel along their routes like snakes. She has gold bracelets on both her wrists and ankles and her eyes are the same color as her dress, which pop enchantingly off her peaches and cream skin.
The ethereal being’s long red hair flows down her back in ringlets that reach her waist. I am so spellbound by her, I almost miss her soft green, translucent butterfly-like wings that sparkle as they flitter in the air. I meet her gaze, absorbed by the glow around her as she smiles in a maternal manner, radiating light and warmth.
I’m completely drawn to her. “W-who are you?” I ask, my voice in awe.
“I am Lady Finella, Queen of the Fae Realm,” she responds while motioning her hands all around us, signaling this is her kingdom. “And you are a most welcome guest, Eve Collins.”
My brows pull together. “How do you know my name?” I ask, trying not to stutter.
She looks taken aback before returning her face to a kind gleam. “Here, in the enchanted kingdom, we have been eagerly anticipating your arrival for many lunar cycles, Batya.” She bows with elegance toward me again.
“Um, okay. Why do you keep calling me Batya?”
She pauses, tilting her head to the side while studying me. After a moment of contemplation, she shakes her head in slow motion, back and forth, emanating sadness.
“Your protector has not enlightened you at this time. It is with deep regret that I cannot offer you clarification. You must await his sermon.” She smiles as if she feels bad for not being able to explain more.
Suddenly, the little giggling lights begin flying around me. I stiffen, unsure as to what they are or what they’re doing.
Lady Finella laughs in a playful manner. “Do not be afraid, child. The sprites are only playing. They are tremendously lighthearted fairies.” She laughs again and it sounds musical while she shoos away the winged sprites. “In our kingdom, you are an honored guest. Please consider our realm a safe haven and home, should you ever need it.” She bends her head toward me again.
Confused as to whether I’m in a dream again, or if this is real, I inhale for a split second and rub my temples. I close my eyes then open them little by little.
“How do I know this is real?”
She stares at me. “The fae realm is a magical kingdom. While inside the realm, fairies are not permitted to tell untruths. It is not physically possible. Our charms and magic would be revoked if we were to mislead you,” she says with great assurance.
I nod once and glance around at the greenery. “I see. How did I get here?” I ask with confusion marring my expression.
Her look turns thoughtful. “Apologies, but I am not sure how you realm crossed. Perhaps you are commencing your ascension. These are rationales I am not at liberty to reveal to you until your protector has determined it is time for your enlightenment.” Her face is solemn. “I am sorry, child.”
“Who is my protector?” I take a step closer to her.
Lady Finella just looks intently at me. She tilts her head, listening for something within the forest. Her eyes close for a brief moment. When they reopen, she looks at me with a maternal gaze.
“Forgive me, child. The trees tell me you are being called back to the earth realm. You must go.” Her smile is assuring.
I pull my face. “Wait, I don’t understand.”
“Do not fear, Batya. We will come together again before long,” she promises as she lifts her left palm flatly in front of her lips and blows, pushing out a soft breath of gold confetti Tinkerbelle-looking powder at me.
Suddenly, my eyes feel heavy as the shimmering dust forces them to close and a falling sensation overtakes my body.
I jerk awake in my seat. Realization hits me instantly that the entire lecture hall is staring at me. Shit. I fell asleep during the lecture. Mortification crawls up my cheeks, tinting them pink as the professor looks at the seat roster, no doubt in search of the culprit who interrupted his riveting sermon.
“Miss Collins, everything alright back there?” His voice is stern and annoyed.
Horrified, I try to control my erratic heartbeat. “Y-yes. S-sorry, professor,” I stutter out in humiliation.
With a final firm look, he turns back
to the rest of the class and continues his lecture. One by one, the other students return their focus to him.
I sit there, brushing the sweat from my brow with the back of my hand as my chest heaves. My anxiety levels start to climb from both confusion and embarrassment.
My hand claws at my chest, trying to get my lungs to work because at the moment, they’re not getting enough oxygen in them. I need air. The walls are starting to close in and black spots are beginning to form in my vision.
Asher leans over the empty seat between us. In a low, harsh whisper, he says, “Breathe. Siren, look at me. You need to focus on me and breathe before you pass out.”
Good plan, breathing. How come I didn’t think of that? I start gasping for air. Shit, I’m going to black out.
Panicked, Asher throws my iPad into my bag then grabs my elbow, pulling me toward the back exit of the hall. My legs feel like rubber. He’s basically dragging me out of the building.
Once outside, he drops our bags and grabs my upper arms, forcing me to stand. It’s not helping though. The dark spots are forming again so I close my eyes and grab his leather jacket in each hand, white knuckling it so I don’t collapse. Forcing my eyes to shut, I try to make the spinning stop. The air returns to my lungs at a snail’s pace.
“Why are you avoiding me?” I slur from a lax state.
“I haven’t been avoiding you. I was never supposed to have contact with you in the first place,” he states.
“Lady Finella said I need a protector for my ascension. Is that you?” I ask as if drugged.
Asher stiffens. “WHAT?” he whisper shouts and I collapse.
Warm arms drape around me, preventing my fall. Asher’s voice is all I hear. “It’s okay. I’ve got you, siren.” He breathes in my ear.
My eyes are heavy and I’m surrounded by blackness. I can’t move. My body hurts. It feels as though I’ve run a marathon. I start to panic. Where am I? What’s happening?
“Easy, Eve. Everything’s okay. You’re all right. Just take it slow.” I hear Abby’s voice break through my foggy state.
My eyes open as I gain control over my body. I sit up, gradually realizing I’m in my bed at the dorms. How did I get back here?
As if sensing my question, Abby answers in a quiet murmur. “Asher brought you back here. He said you passed out in class and then again outside the building so he carried you home. How are you feeling?” She hands an open bottle of water to me, and motions to take a sip.
Just as I finish swallowing the cool liquid, Asher comes bolting in the room, causing the door to slam into the wall and bounce shut.
He looks pissed off. Wait. Is he pissed off?
As soon as his eyes reach mine, his face relaxes slightly before hardening again. His jaw clenches as he narrows his eyes at me. His chest is rising and falling with livid breaths as he prowls toward me.
“How long?” he asks with exasperated annoyance.
Abby stands in protective mode. “Asher, maybe—” He holds his hand up, stopping Abby’s speech.
He looks around her to me, his indigo eyes are mere slits. “How long?” he growls and points at me heatedly.
“Um, I’m not sure what you’re asking me.” I stare at him, wide-eyed and somewhat frightened.
His stance goes severe, making him even more intimidating as I shrink back into my bed.
“How. Long. Have. You. Been. Having. These. ‘Dreams,’” he asks, pronouncing each word slowly so I can follow and adds air quotes to the word dreams to make his point.
“My dreams?” I repeat, trying to understand.
“YES! YOUR FUCKING DREAMS!” he screams, startling Abby and myself as we jump at the harshness in his booming voice.
I go to speak but get cut off by McKenna.
“That’s enough, Asher,” she says, shooting daggers at him. Finally, someone else is on the receiving end of the death glare. I inhale a shaky breath.
He turns to her, anger seeping off him.
“Are you ordering me, Kenna?” he asks, his voice deathly calm.
I swallow. I can’t stop watching. It’s like a train wreck.
She stands tall, looking like a warrior princess.
“I’m telling you to leave her be. Let her get herself together before you interrogate her, Ash. She has yet to be enlightened and you barking at her like a fucking animal isn’t going to help her understand.”
Asher rubs his hands up and down his face then through his hair as he exhales. Once calm, he glares at me and then at McKenna before storming out of the room, slamming the door shut. Oookay.
My eyes shift to McKenna. “Thanks,” I say, feeling awkward that she of all people stuck up for me.
She huffs in annoyance. “Don’t thank me yet. You look like hell. Drink your water, get in the shower, and pull your shit together,” she orders in a bitchy tone.
So much for our ten seconds of friendship!
I take my time getting up. Once I feel I’m steady, I head to the bathroom to shower, as McKenna demanded.
“Good talk, Kenna.” I throw over my shoulder at her before shutting the door and turning on the hot water.
I could have sworn she smiled at me, proud at my display of gusto.
I let the steam fill up the bathroom, taking my time in the shower. The hot water runs over me, massaging my achy muscles. Once out, I wrap myself in my fluffy white towel and wipe the condensation from the mirror, looking at myself.
My normally sparkling hazel eyes are starting to dull and look tired. I notice the slight dark circles forming underneath them. I brush my hair and teeth then notice the pale skin on my narrow face looks washed out from lack of the sunlight it’s used to being exposed to. I throw on some mascara and my vanilla coconut lip gloss, stalling.
I can only imagine what’s waiting for me on the other side of the doorway. Whatever it is, I know it can’t be good. Deep in my soul, I also know it’s going to change me forever.
I start to feel lightheaded but it quickly passes. I throw on an old pair of skinny jeans, my favorite long sleeve black t-shirt that has holes for my thumbs and covers my palms for warmth, and my knee-high, black leather riding boots. Then I open the door to face whatever awaits me on the other side.
Abby sits on the couch in the lounge while McKenna is relaxing with her back to the wall near the door, blocking my escape route. Crap.
Asher paces in the middle of the room with anxiety radiating off him. I take a brief moment to watch him, once again obsessed with the beautifulness that is Asher St. Michael.
His face taut, he is clenching and unclenching his fists and that stunning cheek muscle is ticking. His indigo eyes are unfocused as he lifts them to focus on mine. He really is breathtaking. He holds my gaze for a moment before motioning to the couch for me to sit down, probably for a lecture.
“Sit,” he orders gruffly.
I roll my eyes, walking over to the couch, dropping down next to Abby. She pats my hand in an attempt to reassure me Asher won’t be killing me today. From his stern look, I’m unconvinced.
“Can you tell us what the dreams are about?” she inquires.
I look at the three of them before I begin. “They’re all different. The first nightmare was unlike today’s dream. It’s the only one I’ve had for at least five straight months. The last time I had it was about a week or so ago. I’m always running in a dark tunnel, something terrifying is chasing me, and then out of the blue, someone, a guy, comes in and saves me.”
“Any details you can offer us other than a generic synopsis?” McKenna says snottily.
I glare at her. “The guy who saves me has blue eyes, and in the dark, they almost look like they’re glowing. He can move fast, has a black granite sword, and he speaks Latin.” I look between both Abby and McKenna. They are eyeing one another. Asher goes still.
“The ‘thing’ that is chasing you, do you recall what it looks like, Eve?” Abby inquires, biting her bottom lip.
I nod my head. “Black
smoke. He’s made of black smoke and that guy calls him Nero.”
At this, Abby’s eyes widen and McKenna becomes motionless. Asher stalks over to me and crouches in front of me as something flares in his gaze.
“Did you say Nero?” McKenna confirms.
I look over to McKenna. “Yes. And Nero called this guy my protector.” I shift my focus from McKenna back to Asher, who’s watching me. It’s unnerving.
Silence.
Then Abby stands up and begins to pace in front of me, still biting her lower lip. It’s a wonder it’s not bleeding; she’s biting it so hard.
“What’s going on?” I ask Abby, keeping my eyes trained on Asher.
“Do you remember what your dream in class today was about?” Asher inquires with an unnatural gentleness.
Relieved he isn’t yelling, I give him a small shake of my head. “Not really. Something about a forest, a fairy, and gold pixie dust. I only remember the first one so vividly because it was constant for a few months, but like I said, I haven’t had it for a while,” I answer.
“Asher, we need to get back to La Gargouille. Keegan and Callan need to know what’s going on,” McKenna states, ignoring me.
“They’re meeting with Michael right now.” Abby’s concerned eyes drift to me then back to Asher. “Discussing Deacon and Gage,” she continues with unease.
“Hello, ladies. Still here. What’s going on?” I ask again, directing my pointed look to Asher.
McKenna turns to me, her eyes glaring at me.
“Asher?” she snarls.
I stare at him. “Is this another ‘thing’ you can’t disclose to me?”
Abby gives me an apologetic look.
Asher’s still crouched in front of me. Our knees are touching and it’s causing the heat to start again in my veins.
What is that?
Asher looks confused. “What is what?”
Did I say that out loud?
“Nothing, it’s just.” I pause. “It’s nothing.”
It’s not like he’ll tell me anyway.
He looks at me for a moment. “I apologize for my behavior earlier. I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that. I was just taken aback when you realm jumped in class today,” Asher says.
“Realm jumped?” I blow out a breath. “Look, I’m tired of all the secrets, Asher. I can’t do this anymore. I’m barely hanging on to my sanity as it is. So if you’re not going to tell me what’s going on, then please, stop making statements like I realm jumped,” I respond, exhausted at this ping-pong match and lack of information.
He watches attentively, as if trying to find the answer to something in my eyes. Once he makes his mind up, his face softens. He runs his hand over the top of my head and holds the back still then leans forward to lightly kiss my forehead.
“Fair enough,” he says in a low voice.
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” I whisper.
“Yes,” he answers with sadness present in his voice as my excitement levels rise. “However, this discussion will happen at my place. This way Keegan and Callan can be there as well,” he adds, waiting for an argument.
“Okay,” I agree.
“Okay,” he repeats. “Thanks for not arguing or pushing. It indicates you trust me and that means a great deal to me, siren,” he says with sincerity, looking into my eyes as the butterflies take flight in my stomach.
Asher stands and extends his hand for me to take, helping me off the couch.
We remain there, caught in the moment before he affectionately brushes a loose piece of hair back behind my ear. Just like before, my skin breaks out in a severe case of goose bumps.
Asher smiles sadly at me.
“It’s time you learn who you are, Eve Collins.”
9 Protector
Asher and I pull up to the estate in silence. He cuts the engine to the Aston Martin and we just sit there. He’s fixated on the front windshield like it holds life’s answers.
“Eve, whatever comes out of today, I want you to know you’re safe,” Asher says quietly but with authority.
I look at him with trepidation. “Okay.” It’s all I can manage now that nerves are taking over in my stomach.
Asher turns to me and takes my chin between his fingers, forcing me to look at him. His eyes grow soft. “Okay.” He nods once then gets out of the car, coming around to open my door and extend his hand to assist me.
I fidget for a moment before placing my small, delicate hand in his large, strong one. Keeping a firm grip on me, he walks us into the manor and straight to the ‘tension room’ where everyone is already gathered and waiting. Asher’s stance is protective as we walk in.
“Is Michael here?” he asks, his voice even.
Keegan shakes his head. “No. He said to let him know if his assistance is needed. Eventually, he’ll come and answer all Eve’s questions but right now, he would like us to only explain who we are and what we do.”
Keegan speaks directly to Asher as if conveying some hidden message.
“Ash, he would like you to be the one to explain things to Eves since you’re her primary protector,” Callan cuts in.
“My protector?” I question.
Asher smiles then it fades, his face taking on a serious look. “Yes, I’m in charge of your protection,” he confirms in an authoritative, business-like tone.
“Okay.” I look around at everyone then back at Asher. “Why do I need your protection? What exactly are you protecting me from?”
“Those who want to do you harm,” he answers, plopping down on the couch with me in tow as if answering what flavor milk he prefers.
I scoff. Frustrated that I have to pull information I assumed he would be freely giving, I release his hand. His face drops. Is he saddened by the lost connection?
“Why do you think there are people who want to harm me?” I ask.
“You are very special, siren.” He looks directly in my eyes. “Do you recall the story of our lineage and how our father’s bloodline is La Gargouille?”
I nod once.
He smiles, trying to be reassuring, but it’s just freaking me out. It’s the kind of smile you know is attached to bad news. “You also come from a very important bloodline.” He holds me with his fierce eye contact.
I let out a snort. “What are you saying? My ancestors come from the bloodline of the dragon as well?”
He doesn’t look amused. “No. You are not one of us.”
Ouch. Okay. “So what bloodline do I come from?” I ask with a mocking tone.
McKenna crosses her arms and throws me the old evil eye. “See, I told you she wasn’t ready.”
Asher shoots her a warning glare. Keegan walks over to Kenna, whispers something in her ear, and she calms down. He should bottle that and sell it around campus.
“So, what is my bloodline?” I repeat.
“Archangel,” Asher answers, returning his focus to me. He seems anxious while waiting for me to respond.
“Come again?” I pose, unsure if I heard him correctly.
“Your bloodline is the last pure bloodline of Heaven,” Asher says then pauses, probably waiting for the freak out.
I sit immobile for a moment. Only my eyes shift, looking around at everyone in the room and waiting for a hint of deceit to appear in their facial features. They’re all watching me with serious expressions stamped on their faces.
I turn back to Asher. “The last bloodline of Heaven?” I say again more as a question than statement, disbelief in my voice, uncertain I want to hear his response. I might also internally be questioning his sanity.
“What you need to know is that the Angelic Council, in an attempt to save Heaven in the event of a war with Hell, allowed a redeemer to be planted within mankind. That redeemer has an archangel’s soul spirit and Heaven’s pure blood running through their veins. A blood so pure nothing could taint it. Not evil, not demon, not even Lucifer himself. By doing so, the council guaranteed this liberator would
redeem mankind, allowing Heaven to prevail in the war,” Asher explains in a calm, even manner.
I sit unmoving, staring quizzically at Asher. Not sure how to process this information and more so, wondering if he’s lost his fucking marbles.
“Are you being serious?” I ask, dumbfounded.
“Yes,” he responds guardedly, obviously waiting for me to snap.
“Wait, you think I’m this savior?” I exhale in disbelief. I break into hysterics. “That’s hilarious.”
The room is still silent. Everyone’s vigilantly focused on me, not laughing. “You do realize how absolutely fucking ridiculous this sounds?” I look around at all their stoic faces.
“Eve, I realize this is impractical to comprehend, but we’re being truthful with you. You’re the redeemer. You just don’t know it yet. Since birth, you’ve been protected and hidden within mundane humans. Your bloodline didn’t ascend until you turned eighteen. That’s when you began your ascension,” he continues as if I’m the crazy person.
I shake my head. “You’re wrong. I lived with my aunt. My parents died when I was a baby. I am uninteresting and normal. I don’t even register on the ordinary chart. And what’s ascension? What are you even talking about?” I ramble because I’m starting to put pieces together in my mind and don’t like the way they’re panning out.
“That part is really for Michael to explain to you. We’re under certain restrictions per the laws we follow and the oath we’ve taken. We’re only permitted to tell you who we are and why you might be in danger,” Keegan states with a formality to his tone.
I give him a point blank look. “Who’s Michael?”
He slowly shakes his head from side to side. “Not yet, Eve. We can’t tell you. I’m sorry.”
I turn back to Asher, beyond baffled. “You said I have the spirit of an archangel and the blood of Heaven? How is that even possible?” I try to decipher. “Are you trying to say I’m an angel?” I begin to unravel at what they’re alluding to and the lack of information being provided.
“No. You’re not an angel. You’re human. Michael will better explain who you are and what it is you’re destined to do at another time. I’m only allowed to share why you’re in danger and need our protection,” Asher says in an attempt to pacify me.
I narrow my eyes at him in astonishment. “You can’t tell me? Are you FUCKING KIDDING ME?” I shout then stand and pace. Callan and Abby come next to me, flanking each side. I’m not sure who they are protecting, me or Asher from my wrath.
Asher stands and walks toward me. “There are many things that will be revealed to you in time. I can’t tell you everything right now. It’s simply not allowed. What I do know is that I, along with my family, will protect you from anything that wishes to cause you harm. I promise you. It’s why we’re here and what we do. We’re protectors.”
“Like the dog you attempted to convince me was rabid, that type of protection?” I spit angrily.
He stares at me, pleading with his eyes for me to calm.
I stop pacing and face him. “Who is Michael?”
Silence.
It’s Abby who speaks. “Michael the Archangel.”
I snap my head toward her then scoff. “Michael the Archangel? The one from Heaven who banished Adam and Eve? That Michael?” I nod my head like a lunatic. “Oh, okay. That makes sense. Right, of course,” I muse in a slightly hysterical tone.
“Abigail.” Her name is a warning from Keegan.
She shrugs. “She needs this information. You can’t hide everything from her, oaths or not.”
I look between the two. “Okay. Well, please call him. Get Michael here to inform me of the situation, because I’m really looking forward to that meeting,” I shriek wildly.
McKenna steps up in front of me. “Not that I want to encourage the psychotic episode you’re obviously having, even though I’m enjoying it, but Michael doesn’t present himself at your beck and call. He arrives when HE is willing.”
I look at her like she’s bat-shit crazy, because clearly she is. They all are. They’re all out of their ever-loving minds. I’m not sure what snapped but something did and I lunge for McKenna only to be stopped in mid-air by Callan.
“Easy, cutie. I know this is a lot to take in, but take a breath and just calm down,” Callan soothes, releasing me.
Callan and I stare hard at one another. I sigh. “Are you saying that the Archangel Michael is not only in contact with you, but will come down from Heaven to convene with me and answer questions as well as discuss my lineage?” I ask, eerily calm.
More silence.
They’re obviously scared to set off another episode.
I turn to Asher. “You’re telling me that you, a man who’s standing in front of me, saying he will protect me, won’t answer my questions but an archangel from Heaven can?” I end with a slight inflection.
Asher stills me by grasping my upper arms and locking his eyes on mine. My disloyal body immediately responds to his, soothed by his touch.
I really need to learn how to control that.
“I said we couldn’t tell you, not that we didn’t want to. There are laws, rules, and protocol that must be followed.” Asher growls in frustration.
“What are the consequences of breaking the law and telling me?” I’m irritated.
“Dire,” Keegan says.
A chill runs through my veins as I look to Abby. She acts like it’s no big deal she revealed information to me.
“What does this all mean?” I ask the room, but specifically Keegan. For some reason, I know he’ll get to the point and be honest.
“It means you’re the redeemer that was created to bring salvation to mankind and end the war between Heaven and Hell and we’re here to protect you,” Keegan replies pointedly.
Defeated, I huff out a breath, sit on the coffee table, and put my head in my hands, letting this conversation sink in. “Okay, let’s say I believe you about my bloodline, the Archangel Michael, and that I’m some weapon fated to end this long standing war.” I look up at Asher. “Who are you and why do I need your protection?”
“As we mentioned before, we’re in private security. We are protectors and guardians. Our lineage permits us to watch over people and things we are bound or spiritually connected to. Our clan’s birthright dates back many centuries. Our families have been doing this for a long time, Eve,” Asher states with a proud smirk.
“Are you guardian angels or something? Is that the tie to Michael? You’ve been assigned to be my guardian angels?”
“No,” Asher says tersely. “We are most certainly not guardian angels or even celestial for that matter.”
“We receive a lot of divine assignments and charges. Our ancestry is suited to those types of missions. As you may recall, the dragon symbol is a protection against evil spirits and beings,” Callan reminds me.
I stare at the group. “You’re all protectors? Even Abby and McKenna?”
Keegan answers, “Yes.”
I turn to McKenna. “Your bedside manner sucks for a sentinel of godly charges.”
This causes Callan to let out a loud, deep laugh and Asher to hide his smile. Abby giggles in a light, warm tone. McKenna just snorts, but I can tell she respects the jab.
“I notice all of you have Celtic cross tattoos. Do they have meaning?” I glance at the tattoo on Asher’s arm, curbing my want to reach out and touch it.
“Yes. It means this clan has declared its allegiance to, and abides by the laws set through, The Spiritual Assembly of Protectors. They’re a ruling body who oversees a certain sect of our,” Asher pauses, looking for the right word, as if he is still hiding something, “kinship.”
Keegan nods approvingly at Asher’s answer while I turn to Abby and McKenna.
“Do you both have the Celtic cross tattoo? I don’t see them on you,” I accuse.
Abby and McKenna both push up the beaded stone shamballa bracelets they always wear and I see smaller identical tatto
os on their wrists.
Callan sits down on the coffee table next to me. “You okay, cutie? I know it’s a lot to take in.”
I just sit stationary. I lift my gaze and lock eyes with Asher’s, the strange energy humming between us again. Even in this moment, all I can think about is how good-looking he is. How can he not be divine?
“Why did Michael inject you with my blood?” I ask, the question coming out harsher than I intend.
He flinches at my tone. “I was put in charge of you as your main warden. I needed to be bound to you in order to do my job properly. The blood bond allows me shared access to certain aspects of our connection, enabling me to look out for you better,” he answers with trepidation.
I’m lost again. “What connections? How is that possible? Human blood to human blood is just extra blood in your veins? How does it unite us?”
Asher gives me a sympathetic look. “I can’t answer that now, siren.”
I sigh, tired and agitated. “Why you?” It comes out like an accusation.
“Why me what? Why am I the one in charge of you?” he demands, sounding a bit insulted I questioned his position.
“Yes.”
Asher’s eyes dart past me, landing on the windows with a faraway look on his face. This is his tactic when contemplating how to answer me.
Keegan decides to answer in his place. “Eve, it’s because he’s not mated. If he was, he wouldn’t be allowed to share a blood link with a charge.”
I look at Keegan, awaiting further explanation. He doesn’t offer any.
“Mated?” I scan the room for an answer before landing back on Asher.
He stands, keeping his eyes fixed on mine as he moves his hand to the hem of his t-shirt. He pulls it up over his muscular stomach, above his taut chest, and off his broad shoulders. Crap. Whatever blood was left in my brain just relocated itself to the lower portion of my body.
Oh my god. I thought Asher was stunning with his shirt on but without, it’s an entirely different ballgame. He swallows his nerves as I take him all in. All I can do is stare at his throat. Watching it move up and down in a sexy motion with each nervous swallow.
Finally regaining control of my hormones, my eyes roam over his chest and land on a circular, tribal, dragon tattoo adorning his faultless body over his left pectoral muscle. I’m not sure why but I am completely fixated on it.
In slow motion, he turns so his back is facing me, allowing me to view a large, black, abstract dragon tattoo that covers his entire back. It’s centered and runs from his shoulders to his waist. The dragon’s head and wings are the only literal elements on the artwork. The rest of the dragon is done in barbed wire designs made to look like flames.
It’s stunning.
He turns back to me, his face guarded. “The tattoo on my back is my clan tattoo. Each one of us has one,” he explains in a gentle manner. “This,” he points to the circular tattoo over his heart area, “is the protector tattoo that was injected with your blood for the bond.”
This art is equally beautiful. Once again, done in all black, there is an outer circle designed in a barbed wire swerve pattern with points. The inside resembles an abstract yin and yang symbol but is open and airy. The left side conceptually outlines fire and the right side a dragon.
Asher’s eyes and face are cautious as he observes me appraising the work of art. I have the strongest urge to get up and run my hands over the protector tattoo. It’s drawing me to it, beckoning me to unite with it. I don’t even realize I’ve moved closer to Asher until my hand is tracing the lines of the art, caressing it with the lightest contact.
At my touch, Asher sucks in a harsh breath and his body shudders. My hand touching the tattoo begins to drown in a warm sensation, heating my entire body. I can’t pull it away, almost as if a force greater than my own will is magnetically holding me there.
I have tunnel vision. All I can see is Asher, as if he and I are the only two in the room and everything else fades away. The energy increases between us the longer I have contact with the tattoo.
Without warning, Callan is behind me, guiding my hand away, helping me lower it. As soon as my hand is released, the warmth and wholeness I felt disappears, leaving me empty and cold. I shiver in withdrawal as Asher’s body jolts in what appears to be pain.
“Easy there, cutie,” Callan whispers in my ear.
Snapping out of my trance, I returned my gaze to Asher’s. His face shows pure ecstasy, like my touch pleases him more than anything else in the world. His eyes seem to be glowing.
Keegan speaks in a low, demanding voice. “Drak om in-ex Asher de al grav cal-ort.” At this command, Asher is released from his entrancement. He closes his eyes and shakes his head, returning a cold, angry look at me.
“What just happened?” I don’t even recognize my own quivering voice.
“You’re drawn to the protector mark through the blood bond. When you touch it, it increases the link between you and Asher. Your blood runs through the maze pattern so you’re naturally pulled to it. That’s what allows you two to share connections and emotions, as if mated,” Keegan says emphatically.
Not fully understanding, I focus on something else. “What language did you just use and what did you say?” I ask Keegan.
His look is guarded. “It’s our protector’s language. It’s called Garish, an old form of the Gaelic dialogue. I asked the dragon spirit to release Asher from the bond hold, which he was under due to your touch. The longer you’re bonded, the better he’ll control it.”
I look to everyone. “You all have this tattoo as well?”
They nod in confirmation.
“And the one on Asher’s back?”
“Only Keegan, Callan, and I have that one. It’s a family crest,” Asher states.
“Each family of protectors has their own distinguishing tattoo. Ours is the dragon symbol. It’s our clan’s identifying protector mark. It also ties us to the dragon spirit, allowing us to guard others and ourselves from evil,” Keegan explains.
“Eves, in order for Asher to protect you, he needed to bond with you as his charge. Michael provided him a vial of your blood and injected the tattoo with it, allowing Asher to become your primary protector guardian. It’s a very noble and prestigious honor he was bestowed by Michael, the Angelic Council, and The Spiritual Assembly of Protectors,” Callan points out.
“How did Michael get a vial of my blood?” I ask.
“Your Aunt Elizabeth. That’s all we can offer. Michael will explain more when he speaks to you,” Keegan states.
“Alright, then, I guess no answers today on how my Aunt Elizabeth ties into all of this?” I look around at the group. They are avoiding eye contact. Great, what’s one more secret?
Realization hits me. That’s why we are drawn to one another. The link to his charge. Hurt floods me. I thought he and I were attracted to one another but it’s all because of the bond.
“That’s how we’re connected? Why I feel rushes of warmth and energy when we’re near one another,” I whisper in a disheartened voice.
Before Asher can answer, I sigh in defeat.
“Eve,” Asher says gently. “Keegan is correct. Regardless of whatever’s going on in your head right now, it is a great honor for me to be your protector.”
I raise a cold, hard stare to him. “What are you protecting me from?”
Asher sits on the couch in front of me, shirt back in place, knees touching mine and returning some of the warmth I lost earlier. He reaches for my hands but then thinks better of it, dropping his before they capture mine. He glances at Keegan, who nods in confirmation for Asher to disclose what it is I am in danger from.
“In the dreams you’re having, you mentioned being chased by something called Nero,” he prods.
I nod my head in confirmation.
“Nero works for Lucifer. He’s a Belker. An evil being that appears in the form of smoke and can take the shape and form of man. If provoked, it will strike wi
thout mercy.” He pauses, waiting for this information to sink in.
I sit in silence.
“The Barghest, or the rabid dog, is another demonic creature we think was released by Lucifer. He’s a Hellhound sent to track your scent and find out if you are being protected,” Keegan informs me.
Asher takes my hands in his, causing the energy hum to happen again. “Do you understand what we are saying to you, siren?” he asks with a low, gentle tone.
“Are you saying Lucifer and all his demonic beings are after me?” I ask in a pensive state.
He takes my chin in his hand and locks his eyes with mine so deeply I shiver. “Eve, you are the key to the war between Heaven and Hell. To Heaven, you’re the weapon that tips the scale in their favor. To Hell, you’re a danger to every single seed of corruption, evil presence, demonic being, and Lucifer’s entire legion of dark spirits.”
“Oh shit!” It comes out low, in the form of a breath I’ve been holding.
Callan lets out a forced laugh. “Oh shit is right, cutie.”
My eyes dart around the room.
“I need to speak to Michael. Now,” I demand.
10 Revelation
I sit staring at the fire. I’m numb as the flames dance to their own rhythm, lulling me. Asher has been restlessly pacing the hallway since I came into the library to reflect, alone. Abby walks in. She offers a timid smile and hands me a cup of hot cocoa.
“Asher said you prefer the mini marshmallows and dark chocolate.” Directing her gaze to the fire, she talks to me as if speaking to a child who just had a nightmare. Only mine is real. “Aria called. She said she sent you several texts so she, and I quote, ‘freaked the fuck out’ at your whereabouts. I let her know you were staying here with us tonight. Might be best given the circumstances.”
“Thanks,” I say in a flat tone.
“Keegan is contacting Michael. He should be here soon.”
“Mmhm,” is all I can manage.
“Listen, Eve, I know you don’t want to talk to Ash right now, but as your protector, he needs to know you’re okay. Your anxious feelings are bouncing off the shared connection and he’s ready to tear off the door. Please let him sit in here until Michael arrives. Okay?” she coerces.
“Fine,” I agree. I have no energy for a fight.
“Okay,” she says sadly, leaving the room as Asher walks in. I put the mug on the coffee table as he sits down next to me.
After a moment of enduring my cold shoulder, he catches me off guard by reaching for me and pulling me onto his lap so I’m straddling and facing him.
His face and eyes are sincere. “Talk to me,” he coaxes with a softness I haven’t seen yet.
I stare at his Celtic cross tattoo. “I’m trying to sort it all out. It all sounds so far-fetched. At the same time, if true, how do I start to embrace this?” I say breathless.
Asher is silent, his gaze intense and body rigid. He picks up a strand of my hair and begins to play with it, unconscious he’s doing it.
“When I first saw you, I was completely captivated. I realized there was something different about my bond to you even before our first interaction. I knew you were my fate and I was created to protect and shelter you. I swear to you, I will do that,” he promises.
I lift my eyes and look into the layers of his, trying to find a hint of deceit, but there is none. “What am I exactly?”
Asher draws his hand across his brow as if considering his next words with great care. “I don’t know what you’ll become, but right now, you’re a breathtakingly beautiful and stubborn girl who’s fiercely argumentative, strong willed, and usually someone I want to strangle, yet at the same time, shelter, revere and protect with every fiber of my being. Whatever you become, you’re strong. I’m sure of that. You will succeed.”
I watch him. “How do you know?”
His look is pointed. “You’re a force to be reckoned with, Eve. You’re going to fulfill your destiny and liberate what needs to be set free.”
I scoff. “I can’t escape this. Wishing it was yesterday and I was normal again won’t make this go away, will it?”
Asher’s smile falters, his voice serious. “You are not normal. You can’t change your destiny or what you’re fated to do. You need to accept it. Once you do, it will become a part of you. Then your soul will know how to embrace what your heart already knows and your mind will realize is truth.”
I hold his gaze and play with the collar on his shirt, unsure of how to respond to his words.
“You are an enchanting, mystical creature, siren,” he says in awe.
“You’ve called me that before. Why? What does it mean?”
Indigo eyes meet mine and perfect lips tilt up sensually. “I’ve nicknamed you siren because it means a dangerous and beautiful creature who lures men with their enchantment. As you have done to me.”
Asher’s eyes dart to my parted lips, his stare is predatory. I hold my breath. A shiver of anticipation runs through me. His hands grasp my hips, pulling me closer to him as he leans in slowly.
A seductive smile tugs at the corners of his lips, vanishing as soon as they brush mine like a caress. I close my eyes, falling into the blissful warmth that is Asher. His lips are so soft.
Warm hands move up to my face, cupping my cheeks as he tilts my head, deepening the kiss. I open my mouth and allow him to enter. This kiss is gentle and tentative at first, but builds feverishly and rapidly with hunger. He growls, causing me to release a soft mewl.
My hands clench his shirt as he pulls me closer, yet still not close enough. No one has ever kissed me this passionately before. It’s perfection.
Asher pulls his head back from me, his breathing ragged. His hands still cup my cheeks. I look into his eyes, which appear to glow, drawing me in.
I unclench his shirt and bring my hands to his face. His five o’clock shadow is rough as it graces my palms. Leaning forward, I brush my lips against his again. In response, he pulls me closer. My hands make their way into his soft hair, clutching the strands tightly as he devours my mouth until my lips are swollen and bruised.
“Ah hum. Pardon the interruption but Michael is here,” Callan informs us, amused at catching us in this predicament.
Asher leans his forehead against mine. His breath comes out in short pants while I close my eyes, trying to control my rapid heartbeat.
My hands close into fists in his hair.
“We’ll be right there,” Asher says, his voice raspy.
I pray Callan doesn’t notice my blush stained cheeks, a product of getting caught mauling his brother.
Asher pulls my arms away, kissing each of my hands as he repositions me off his lap and standing us up. Shifting in front of me, he links our fingers in a firm hold, moving us toward the door.
“Let’s go. It’s never good to keep Michael waiting,” he says, his voice evening out.
As I walk past Callan, he leans over and whispers, “Eves, you’re so cute when you blush.”
Crap, kill me now. I hide my face in Asher’s back as he pulls me down the hallway and back to the ‘tension room’ to meet an archangel.
Revelation Page 5