Restraint (The Revelation Series Book 2)
Page 24
I remind myself of the last word he said to me before disappearing into the rain filled sky. “Forever.” The rest of my gargoyle sentinels, the London clan, his family, found me sitting on the wet grass, in the cold rain. Soaked and weeping. My body rocking back and forth in an attempt to comfort itself, while my mind slipped into a catatonic state. The only sound that fell from my lips was his name, spoken softly over and over again.
Each day, I go over in great detail, the last moments we shared on the rocky cliff overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. I attempt to discover a clue or inkling of something, anything, I could have said or done that would have changed his mind. Made him stay with me. Fought for us. The energy wasted. I always come up empty handed. My eyes close as I inhale while memories flood me and then float away, a daily occurrence.
“I’ve got you Eves. You’re safe. We’re all here cutie.” Callan’s voice was the first I’d
heard before he lifted me into his protective arms.
His words weren’t comforting though because he was mistaken. They weren’t all there.
Asher was gone. Vanished into the inky heavens.
“Where the fuck is he?” Keegan’s angry tone cut through the downpour.
“I don’t know,” Abby answered as her face locked onto mine filled with worry.
I only stopped saying his name long enough to utter. “He left.” Then I went silent for what would be three weeks.
The night following, Asher’s disappearance, he reached out to Michael with instructions for the clan. The only piece of their conversation the archangel would share with me, was that Asher was safe and under the watchful eyes of the council. Then he informed me I would be returning home the next day to Massachusetts, under the protection of the London clan. That was all. No, I’m sorry. Or, I’ll see you soon. Michael said nothing that would indicate my dark prince would return.
I squeeze my eyes tighter as Lord Falk the Royal Gargoyle Council of Protectors leader’s words drift through me. “Mr. St. Michael, it has been brought to the council’s attention that you are in violation of our laws. You have been accused of having infringed upon the oath you swore to uphold with regard to your loyalty to both the human race and your charge, Eve Collins. What say you?” The accusation thrown out during the tribunal held at Domus Gurgulio Castle in County Kerry, Ireland.
After Asher made it clear the council didn’t have any solid evidence to support the charge, the council, of which he’s a member, decreed he was no longer appointed my protector while they continued to investigate the allegation of misconduct.
Due to lack of evidence, they weren’t formally able to charge him with violating his protector oath, a sentence that carries a punishment of eternal stone petrifaction. For that, I’m grateful. Knowing he’s somewhere breathing in the world eases the pain, a little.
I glance over at my bed with longing. It would be so easy to crawl back into it like those first few days. After removing me from the rainstorm, the clan brought me back to their home, La Gargouille manor, in Wiltshire, England.
They placed me, fully clothed, in a warm bath and coaxed me into eating and talking. I refused. Instead, I walked into Asher’s room, grabbed the Property of London shirt he liked me to sleep in, changed into it, and curled up in the fetal position in the middle of his bed. Surrounded by his scent of smoky wood and leather.
My anguish was overwhelming. I cried myself to sleep for days, never moving. What was the point? I felt empty inside. I spoke to no one. Attempts were made to get me out of bed, dressed, have a meal and converse.
Finally, McKenna in a rare show of support or sympathy, stepped in and explained to the family that I needed time and space to deal with the stress Asher’s and my separation was causing the blood bond.
Two days later, she stormed into the room with her mate and Asher’s older brother, Keegan. At her orders, the handsome warrior snatched me out of bed and carried me into the shower while turning on the cold water. I shrieked in pain as the little prickles of water hit my skin and squirmed in Keegan’s drenched powerful arms.
Once McKenna was satisfied I was clean and awake, she wrapped us each in a towel before Keegan brought me back into the room and gently placed my shivering body on the floor. Then he wordlessly took his leave.
McKenna just stood there with her hands on her perfect hips, her sapphire eyes watching my every breath. A few moments later, Abby, her cousin, walked in with fresh clothes and a plate of food. Damn gargoyles ambushed me.
“I’m not going to let you do this to yourself. You’re stronger than this blood of Eden. Get your fucking ass in gear and pull yourself out of this shithole you’re creating,” McKenna spit at me with her lack of bedside manner or tact. I ignored the harsh statement since it’s typical McKenna.
Both girls got me dressed, with little help from me, and sat next to me on the floor in Asher’s bedroom. McKenna threatened that I wasn’t allowed to return to his scent-filled bed until I ate something.
After an hour stand off, I did. Pleased with their successful efforts, they continued this torment every day. Either, Keegan or Callan, Asher’s young brother and Abby’s mate, would snatch me up out of bed and douse me in cold water while the girls force-fed and dressed me.
After three weeks of depression, I’d had enough of their antics and feeling sorry for myself. McKenna was right I needed to pull myself out of the shithole. Knowing I had about an hour before I was forced into an icy shower, I got up on my own, showered with warm water, dressed and made my way downstairs to the kitchen.
When I entered, the rest of the St. Michael family was eating breakfast with Fiona, the shape-shifting panther and manor’s caretaker.
No one said anything. They all watched me with cautious, and stunned expressions, as I grabbed a coffee and scone then sat down with them. Without a word, I nibbled on the pastry. Once they decided I was mentally stable, everyone returned back to the table conversation.
Satisfied with my presence, Keegan announced we were leaving that afternoon for Massachusetts. And we did. A few hours later, we boarded the private jet and arrived the following morning to the estate I’d grown to love, just outside of the Kingsley College area, where I’m currently sitting, in my old room.
I inhale the rain-filled fresh spring air that floats in from the open window, overlooking the wooded area behind the house. At the same time, my right hand moves to my neck searching out the necklace Asher gave me. My fingertips brush over the feather lying on its side. The darkness creeps back in.
I choke back the sudden feeling of absolute despair. The memory of when Asher gave it to me hits me hard. The image of him causes my heart to clench. It’s been so long since I’ve seen his indigo eyes, striking face and sexy stubble dusted jawline. I squeeze my eyes closed, holding onto the vision before it fades.
“It’s beautiful, Asher.” I breathe out.
“I asked your aunt to make it especially for you. It’s an angel’s wing, a symbol to remind you of the divine presence in your life. May I?” he asks. I nod as he brings the necklace around my neck, securing the clasp.
“I love it. Thank you.” I turn to face Asher. “But I don’t need a necklace to remind me that I have a divine presence in my life. I have you.”
The emptiness fills me again as soon as my eyes open, a painful reminder he’s gone. Anger and frustration begin to build and run through my veins like poison. He left me. My hand tightens around the silver chain and I yank it hard as the clasp breaks and the delicate piece of jewelry falls lifeless in my small hand.
I hate looking at it. All the trinket does is remind me of broken promises. I lift my arm to throw it out the window as a smooth, seductive, masculine voice hits me in the gut, like a punch. His unexpected presence knocks the wind out of me.
My body won’t turn around. It’s rooted to the spot I’m sitting almost as if I’m being held down by a thousand weights. My heart rate picks up at the sound of his voice and his familiar scent assaults me.
&n
bsp; “Are you sure you want to toss away something that means so much to you?” the gargoyle queries from over my right shoulder.
My hand clasps the necklace in a tight clench. Crap. He’s right, I detest him for being correct, but he is. Damn him. I allow my anger to boil so that when I do finally face him, I can release it.
The striking man that I know so well moves from behind me and sits next to me on the bench, shifting his eyes out to the window’s view. My breath hitches while I take in his facial features. By the grace he’s good-looking.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, my tone lined with loathing and resentment.
He turns to face me and gives me a sexy smirk. A set of beautiful eyes lock onto mine. “It’s nice to see they didn’t have to sedate you on the plane after all,” he chuckles quietly.
A short strangled laugh escapes my throat, a foreign sound. “Seriously, why are you here?” I ask with a lackadaisical attitude.
The attractive gargoyle adjusts his large body toward me.
“I’m your new protector love,” Gage says, holding my gaze.
Acknowledgements
I’d like to start by thanking my family and friends for supporting me throughout this amazing journey. Without your love and encouragement, I would never have written, and finished, this series.
Kris Kendall, I adore you. You make the editing process so easy and you just get me, my writing style and these damn gargoyles, for all that, and putting up with my ‘crazy author moments’, while coming up with the best reaction to a piercing I’ve ever read, thank you. You’re an amazing editor and friend.
Danielle at Bravebird Publishing, what can I say, lady. I’m obsessed with the cover and trailer for Restraint. I’m crazy about working with you, and your team. To use our favorite word, you’re ‘swoon’ worthy.
Danille Barclay and Nicole Prebeck at Barclay Publicity. You and your team are the best and I feel extremely fortunate to be working with you all. Thank you for believing in this series and me.
A huge debt of gratitude to the beta readers: Sara Dustin, Maureen Switalski, Terri Thomas, Meghan Tate, Kayla Clinton, Iris Cabrera, Michelle Drew, and others, for your continued dedication toward this series and these characters.
To Nichole at YA Reads, and all the amazing bloggers, who ALWAYS host my books with enthusiasm and love, there are not enough words to show my appreciation. Thank you all for being warm and accepting of this series. Special shouts out to the following lovely ladies and bloggers: Jo at Cometbabesbooks.blogspot.com, Joanne and Kelly at havebookwillread.com and Merissa at Archaeolibrarianologist.blogspot.de. You have been so kind, and supportive of these books and me, I can’t thank you enough. Please check out their pages, and show them some love and support.
Randi’s Rebels, what can I say? You all ROCK! I’m grateful to you for all you do on a daily, hourly and minute basis for this series and myself. Thanks for supporting the revolution!
My little rainbow, Maddison, thank you for being patient and sharing my attention. Mommy loves you and each night will see you in the morning light.
To my hubby, Dave, I love you more than you’ll probably ever know. Your support, excitement and encouragement push me through. Every. Single. Time. Thanks baby!
Finally to the readers, thank you for taking a chance on this series and embracing it as you have. It’s been a journey of self-discovery, love and sacrifice for not only these characters, but me as well. Thank you for allowing me to be a part of your reading library and literary world!
About the Author
Randi was born and raised in Massachusetts where she attended Bridgewater State University and graduated with a degree in Communication Studies. After graduation she moved to California where she lived happily bathed in sunshine and warm weather for fifteen years. She and her husband recently moved back to Massachusetts with their daughter where she was encouraged to begin writing again.
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