Restoration

by Randi Cooley Wilson

  McKenna throws an appreciative look my way. Our first. Holy shit. The rest of the clan just stares at the two of us with shocked expressions before averting their eyes.

  “Give us a few reasons why we should come to the dark side,” Asher poses.

  “For starters, pickles are too awesome to hate,” Callan states.

  “Technically, not a reason,” Keegan points out.

  “Cleopatra attributed her beauty to eating a lot of pickles,” Abby interjects.

  “It’s also a scientific fact pickles make you happier,” Callan continues.

  My eyes slide to Asher’s impressed ones. “Show me that data,” I mutter.

  “If it weren’t for pickles, Columbus wouldn’t have found America,” Keegan states.

  “I thought that was spices?” McKenna argues.

  Abby holds her iPhone up. “November fourteenth is National Pickle Day.”

  Keegan nods. “Napoleon was a huge fan of pickles.”

  Callan steps out of the room for a moment before returning. “Abs got me a new apron,” he points to the words. “It says pickle smoocher on it.” He smirks adorably.

  Abby drops her gaze, fascinated with the bowl of chocolate as my mouth falls open.

  Asher’s face pulls. “Dude, you do realize what a pickle smoocher is?”

  Confusion floats over Callan’s happy-go-lucky expression. “Enlighten me, smartass.”

  Abby’s eyes widen as she studies Asher’s cocky smirk. “Ash, don’t,” she pleads.

  “It’s a euphemism for someone who likes to give head,” Asher states with a grin.

  Keegan begins an uncontrollable coughing fit. My guess is it’s to hide his laughing.

  “By the grace,” McKenna exhales, clearly annoyed.

  Callan slides his glance from Asher to Abby. “That true, baby?”

  Abby sighs and drops her head in her hands. “Yes,” she answers in a small voice.

  “Holy shit, that’s brilliant.” He laughs.

  “It was supposed to be a private thing,” Abby points out.

  “Nothing in this clan is private.” My lips twitch into a small smile.

  Her gaze locks on mine. “Speaking of private, have you and Ash discussed the timing for the mating ceremony? Since your mark is fading, we should probably do this quickly.”

  The entire room falls silent. Crap. Crap. Craaaappp. Asher turns to face me, nostrils flaring. His fists clench as he stalks toward me, backing me into the counter before caging me in with his arms and body. His eyes narrow to a thick slit of blue.

  “The mark is fading?” he all but growls.

  My heart begins to hammer wildly in my chest, and I throw an annoyed look at Abby.

  “Thank you for this.” I motion toward Asher. Damn gargoyles.

  She points a pickle at me. “Hey, you started it by judging me.”

  His head lowers so we’re at eye level. “What the fuck, siren. When did this start?”

  I blink slowly. “I noticed it when we were on the plane coming back here.”

  He doesn’t move. “Turn the fuck around,” he demands.

  “Asher,” I exhale.

  “Do. It. Now, siren.” He holds my gaze.

  After a few seconds of suffering his intimidation, I twist and he lifts up my shirt.

  I squeeze my eyes shut at his sharp intake of breath. “Fuck,” he draws out. “It’s lighter.”

  “It’s also why I couldn’t push healing energy into you,” I admit.

  Asher releases the hem of my shirt, allowing it to fall back in place before he steps into me, pressing his chest to my back tightly. My hands curl around the kitchen counter as a breath shudders through me, caused by the way our bodies fit together. I bite back a moan.

  Asher leans into my ear and drops his voice to a husky tone. “Tonight.”

  “Slow your roll there, gargoyle.” Abby stands and forces her way in between us.

  I exhale slowly, grateful for the space before I twist to face Asher. Although, to be honest, after seeing his intense expression, I’m regretting turning around at all.

  “I can’t just throw together an entire ceremony in ten minutes,” she balks.

  “A production is not needed,” Asher counters.

  “Oh hell no, Asher St. Michael. After all these months, after all you two have been through, and whatever it is we’re about to fight—” She inhales, calming herself. “Let me be clear. There will be a dress. And candles. And romance.” Abby stomps her foot. “Do not take this away from me.” Her gaze slides and meets mine. “I mean, Eve. Of course I meant you.”

  I arch a brow at her. “Clearly.”

  “Keegan, have Gage reach out to Sora since he’s in Paris,” Asher requests.

  “Will do.”

  “Who is—” I begin but McKenna cuts me off.

  “What about the council?” she asks.

  “In light of recent events, they have no authority over gargoyle law anymore. Agreed?”

  My shoulders sag, and a chorus of agreements glide through the clan.

  “We’ll need extra security tomorrow,” Kenna adds. “The last thing we need is the blood of Eden being murdered on her mating day.”

  “Aw, cupcake, you do care,” I taunt.

  “Not an issue.” Abby beams.

  “We should also reach out to Michael,” Keegan adds and Asher nods.

  My breath hitches. I hadn’t even thought about the archangel’s presence. My gaze drifts around the house, and suddenly, I’m hit with a pang of sadness, knowing my mother won’t be there. The moment is cut short when Abby’s face appears in front of me.

  “I was hoping that we would visit the House of McQueen. Like a sisterly bonding moment, where you try on dresses and McKenna and I cry, and oooh, and ahh,” she says.

  McKenna snorts. “Because that sounds like us.”

  Abby throws her an annoyed glance. “Instead,” she goes on, “I’ll make a few calls and see what I can do to get the dress to come to us,” she chirps brightly.

  “Okay,” I reply, feeling overwhelmed.

  Abby claps excitedly before spinning around and taking on her warrior stance. “Gage will get Sora. Keegan, you reach out to Michael and handle the guest list. Kenna and I will handle the wardrobe and décor,” she ticks off.

  “Can’t wait,” McKenna feigns excitement.

  Abby turns to her mate, ignoring her cousin. “We need to discuss a menu.”

  “Anything you want, babe.” He plants a light kiss to her lips before turning his attention to Asher. “You see that, Ash. Happy wife, happy life. Lesson number one.” He winks.

  Wife? Oh shit. My head starts spinning from all the commotion.

  “You okay, siren? You’re white as a ghost.” Asher’s gentle tone is at my ear.

  I need some air. “I just need a . . . um . . . moment,” I push out through erratic breaths.

  Asher’s hand is in mine and, within seconds, we’re outside in the arid gardens. Asher’s hands cup my cheeks, and he forces me to lift my head and meet his intense stare. I study the depths of each layer and everything else fades away.

  “It’s you and me, siren.” He breathes across my lips.

  “You and me,” I repeat.

  “We’re all in. Forever.”

  “Forever.”

  “No regrets?” He waits.

  “Only one,” I whisper.

  Asher shifts his weight nervously. “Which is?”

  “Agreeing to let Abby pick out the dress,” I reply.

  A beautiful smile crosses his kissable lips. “I fucking love you.”

  I sigh happily as his lips meet mine and push all thoughts of tomorrow away.

  A ceremony.

  As if we have the luxury of time for such things.

  Chapter 13

  This Love

  Wisps of amber-lit fog twist through the dark fields of white lilacs and cream-colored wildflowers, cocooning us. I release a nervous breath and place a hand over my heart, willing the err
atic beating to slow down.

  My eyes slide closed while I focus on the hum of thousands of monarch butterflies. The constant motion of their wings lulls, and for a brief moment, everything around me becomes peaceful. When my lids flutter open, I take in the lightning bugs that sparkle and dance in the inky night sky, like my very own tiny stars.

  The warm evening breeze brushes over my hypersensitive skin, causing a small shudder to run through my body. Be brave, Eve. Be brave. The haze presses in. My focus glides over the candle-lit fields of Sorceress Lunette’s cottage, in the magic dimension. It’s breathtaking.

  I inhale when I’m unexpectedly bathed in a soft golden glow, which is diverting my attention.

  Michael smiles at me with warmth overflowing from him. “You look lovely, Eve.”

  “Thank you,” I reply shyly.

  Sadness clouds his gaze before he blinks it away. “I am sorry Libby was not permitted to traverse planes for this, but rest assured, she will be watching with love and pride.”

  I nod my understanding and push away the darkness threatening to coil around me.

  “Are you sure you don’t want one of us to escort you, kiddo?” Uriel asks.

  I attempt a small smile. “I’d prefer to take this walk on my own.”

  Abby reenters the cottage and her eyes widen when she sees the two archangels. Long red strands of her hair fall over her exposed shoulders as she shakes her head in disapproval. The understated champagne gown she’s wearing glistens in the golden glow emanating off the angels, enhancing her ethereal look.

  “By the grace, you would think divine entities would adhere to and respect rules a little better.” She steps behind them, shooing the larger-than-life archangels toward the open door.

  Uriel stops and looks down at her. “I don’t want to go out there.”

  Abby tilts her head. “Why not?”

  He fidgets uncomfortably. “Sorceress Lunette keeps hitting on me.”

  Abby looks over her shoulder at me and we both break into a fit of giggles.

  Michael’s brows pull together. “I was under the impression that Professor Davidson accompanied the sorceress this evening.”

  Uriel’s lips press into a flat line. “Exactly. Also worth noting, Zyla is not an understanding demigoddess. I’m afraid if the sorceress pinches my backside once more, my lady will literally bring the wrath of the Gods down on this realm.”

  “Well, that’s just a chance we’ll have to take. Out you go,” Abby orders.

  I smile at the scene before Abby turns back and catches my eyes, rolling hers. “In the future, Eves, be more careful what you wish for.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You wanted a family. It doesn’t get much more typical than an eccentric cougar sexually assaulting a hot, yet quirky, uncle at a family gathering,” she elucidates, her eyes lit with amusement. “Who knows, maybe we’ll get lucky and Keegan will get drunk and fall into the cake,” she adds sarcastically.

  “There’s cake?” I counter, causing her to sigh and fiddle with my hair.

  I ponder her words for a moment. Taken aback at my reaction to them. They’re true. All my life, all I’ve ever wanted was a family. I take a step toward the open door and study the seated guests. My eyes land on Marcus and Stephan, then Nassa, Gage, and Fiona, and I laugh at the weirdness of it all. I guess supernatural creatures are my new normal. My family.

  I face Abby again. “Thank you for doing this.”

  Her glistening eyes take me in. “You look amazing.”

  My gaze drops to the sleeveless cream dress, picking at the heavy tulle netted bottom. It’s simple and elegant. Abby steps over to me and readjusts the sage sash at my waist.

  “This was Elizabeth’s. It was a piece of the baby blanket she wrapped you in when you were born,” she explains. “It was her wish that I use it today, per Michael.”

  My heart stops. “Really?”

  Abby nods. “Elizabeth wanted you to carry something meaningful that you shared.”

  A large lump makes itself known in my throat and I fight back tears.

  “You okay?” she whispers.

  “Yeah. I’m good.”

  “Ready?” She squeezes my hand.

  “Lead the way.”

  I watch Abby’s retreating form as she makes her way down the narrow trail, lit stylishly with white hanging twinkle lights and ivory candles.

  Exposed twigs coil around one another above her, providing a canopy of gothic archways, laced with pure white flowers intricately woven throughout the bare branches. Intertwined at each portico’s center, the Celtic symbol of protection watches over us.

  Abby’s form becomes less clear as she maneuvers through the draped wisteria dramatically swaying, like fabric dancing through the fields. Almost as if in slow motion, her steps become unhurried.

  She turns her head and looks over her shoulder at me, offering me an encouraging smile. I inhale and study her features, bathed in candlelight. The warmth and happiness radiating off the beautiful gargoyle helps to calm my frail nerves.

  Reminding myself of what awaits me, I take a small step onto the curved pathway leading to my destiny. I thank the style gods that Abby let me wear my flat, brown lace-up boots as I follow the glow of hundreds of candles, guiding my journey through the darkness. Everything twinkles and sparkles like the stars in heaven.

  Every so often, I stop to admire the exquisiteness surrounding me. When I reach the last archway, I lift my eyes and become breathless. My body freezes when I see Asher.

  He’s in tailored black dress pants and shoes. A crisp white button-down shirt adorns his chest. My eyes fall to his steady hands and I notice his sleeves are casually rolled to his elbows, showing off the Celtic tattoo and his leather bracelets. Good Lord. He’s magnificent.

  I take notice of an unfamiliar older woman standing in front of Asher before quickly shifting my focus to McKenna and Abby, seated in the front row next to their mates. Keegan dips his chin and Callan smirks proudly in acknowledgment.

  I slide my gaze back to Asher and release a shaky breath when his indigo eyes meet mine. The depths of love and appreciation are evident in his gaze. I hold his beautifully luminous stare, and a long moment stretches out between us.

  Suddenly, I’m overcome by emotion at the way he’s watching me. Like I’m his everything. I stand completely still, unable to move. Asher’s gaze drops, taking me in slowly, bit by bit. His lips part and a long exhale seeps out of him. With every caress of his look, he etches himself into my heart, imprinting further onto my soul.

  I steady my breath and take a small step toward him. His eyes deepen to a vibrant cobalt, causing a wry smile to form on my lips and my nervousness to disappear. A faint smile crosses his lips as I approach.

  Surprising me, Asher doesn’t reach his hand out for mine. Instead, his hands brush my bare shoulders and trail down the length of my arms, resting on the curve of my waist. He tugs me against him, fitting our bodies together before sweeping my hair over one shoulder. Painfully slow, he lowers his lips and presses a light kiss to my neck above my rapid pulse. I relax against him, breathing for the first time today.

  “God, you are so fucking beautiful, siren,” he whisper-growls in my ear.

  “I’m terrified,” I admit softly on a trembling breath.

  Asher’s gaze intensifies. “I promise to keep the pieces of your heart safe. You are mine to protect, always.”

  A small, warm fluttering makes its way through my veins as I look him in the eyes.

  “Then let’s finish what we started, pretty boy.” My voice is barely audible.

  He produces a wicked smirk before dropping his voice to a velvety seductive one. “Rest assured, siren, I always finish. Right after you do. It’s my ladies first policy.”

  A throat being cleared interrupts our moment, yet neither of us releases our stare.

  “May I begin, Your Highness?” the stranger asks kindly.

  “Eve, this is Sora. She is a dear friend
and an elder gargoyle. She’s also the leader of the Spiritual Assembly of Protectors,” Asher introduces.

  My irises relinquish the hold they have on his and meet the welcoming cornflower ones of Sora. “It’s nice to meet you. Thank you for being here.”

  A bright smile crosses her lips, causing the delicate fine lines that run throughout her face to lift. She tilts her head and her shoulder-length toffee strands shift slightly.

  “The honor is mine, daughter of Heaven,” she says in an elegant French accent.

  “Sora is here to oversee the binding ceremony, then bear witness and formally accept your pledge of loyalty to the clan and the Spiritual Assembly of Protectors,” Asher explains, his focus trained solely on my face.

  “Okay,” I reply and the butterflies in my stomach rage to life.

  “If you are both ready, Your Highness, I’d like to begin,” Sora states.

  Asher tightens his hold on me. “We are.” His voice is firm as he looks down into my eyes.

  In my peripheral vision, I notice Keegan hand Sora a small dagger made of Asher’s healing stone. She places the glossy black weapon on top of an ancient book with intricate Gaelic designs etched into the leather. Sora closes her eyes and chants words in Garish.

  “The dagger is carved and spelled from the same onyx used on my stone state bed. It’s meant only to be used for my binding ceremony,” Asher murmurs, squeezing my waist.

  I exhale breathlessly.

  Asher rests his forehead against mine. “I need you to unbutton my shirt, siren.”

  My eyes widen in horror at what he’s asking me to do—in front of everyone. “W-what?”

  “Sora needs access to the protector mark.” Asher grins, amused by my confused state.

  “Right. Of course.” I lift my shaky fingers to his top button. Crap, get a grip, Eve.

  As if reading my mind, he pulls back and then leans toward my ear. “Just the top three. Let’s not go giving away the cow for free, yeah?”

  I roll my eyes at his antics. After a painfully awkward, drawn-out moment, I manage to get the buttons undone. Once I unfasten the last button, I hold on to it for dear life. Asher uncurls my fingers from the small white closure, placing a kiss to each of my knuckles before taking a small step back. His thumb strokes my pulse, beating against my wrist.