“Aye, lad. Ye especially,” she replies with a sigh, heading back upstairs to Abby.
Callan steps toward the staircase, but Keegan places a hand on his chest, halting his movement. “Real quick, I just got word that it’s done.” He holds his iPhone up.
Asher’s head lifts along with his gaze. “He accepted?”
“Gallagher is heading to County Kerry as we speak,” Keegan replies.
“What’s going on?” I interject.
“Now that the Royal Gargoyle Council of Protectors has been dismantled, my first royal task as king of the gargoyle race is to turn Domus Gurgulio Castle into an academy for gargoyle protectors. Those who wish to, can study there and fine-tune their protection skills,” Asher explains. “Hopefully, the school will empower the next generation of protectors with a sense of duty, loyalty, and protection while they receive a top notch education.”
“Professor Davidson has agreed to be the headmaster, cutie,” Callan adds.
“That’s amazing, guys.” I smile.
“The Royal Protector Academy will be our legacy and will hopefully make up for some of the chaos and damage our father and the council created during their reign,” Asher continues.
I cringe at the reminder of Garrick and what he did to all of us.
“Gallagher’s architectural firm will be there in the morning to start RPA’s transformation,” Keegan points out, reading an email on his phone. “He thinks it will take about a year to get the building renovated and running the way we need an academy to be.”
“We’ll go after the baby is born and check it out,” Asher says.
My hand wraps around Asher’s arm. “Will Nassa be there with Gage?”
His eyes soften. “I don’t know. I’m not sure if their story is finished or not, siren. We’ll just have to wait and see what tomorrow brings for them.”
Callan stares at the stairs. “I can’t wait to meet my son.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “How do you know you’re having a boy?”
“It’s a boy, cutie,” he counters without room for argument.
“You have a fifty-fifty shot, Dad-to-be,” Asher muses.
“I have it on good authority,” Callan states proudly.
“What authority?” Keegan asks with a disbelieving tone.
“I know divine beings who have assured me it’s a boy,” Callan retorts.
I tilt my head. “What divine beings?”
“Uncle Urie,” he says.
Asher and I both release a light laugh. “Archangel Uriel? My uncle?”
Callan narrows his eyes and points a finger at me. “He prefers Uncle Urie, Eves.”
“Callan St. Michael, get your adorable ass up here this instant!” Abby’s sweet, yet firm, pinched bellow floats down from the second floor.
“Shit! I’d better get up there. Can’t wait to introduce you guys to Thor.”
Keegan pats his younger brother on the shoulder, and they take the stairs two at a time.
“You okay with all of this, siren?” Asher asks from behind me.
At the sound of his voice, I close my eyes and inhale before turning around. I know what he’s asking, yet not. He’s worried that someday I’ll regret this life. Choosing to be with him above all else. Giving up children of my own. My gaze takes in the striking gargoyle. My protector. I’m filled with nothing but intense love and devotion when it comes to him. It seeps out of my soul. What he fails to understand is that he is my life. My everything.
“I don’t think any of us are ready for Callan and Abby to be parents, Asher,” I tease.
“That’s not what I meant.” Asher’s head tilts, watching me.
I step into his arms and pull him to me. “The only thing I am feeling right now is terrible for that little girl. This clan’s overprotectiveness is going to follow her for life.” I place a small kiss across his lips. “And we’re going to love and protect her as if she’s our own.”
“She?” he questions.
I wiggle my eyebrows. “Callan isn’t the only one with inside information.”
Asher interlaces our fingers and guides us upstairs to a sitting area just outside of Abby and Callan’s suite. Who knew it took so long to give birth. We watch McKenna pace nervously for a little over two hours before Callan reappears.
His face is ashen as he steps into the middle of the group.
“What’s wrong?” I ask anxiously.
Callan swallows and just stares at us. “I-it’s a girl.”
“Holy shit!” Asher exclaims.
“Congratulations, brother.” Keegan pulls both St. Michael boys into a tight embrace.
My gaze collides with McKenna’s and we both smile brightly. After a few moments, the guys release each other and Callan wipes his teary eyes before exhaling roughly.
“What the fuck am I going to do with a girl?”
I bite back a laugh. This poor little girl is so screwed. As are these big bad gargoyles.
“By the grace.” Kenna impatiently pushes past them into the suite and we all follow.
A glowing Abby is sitting up in bed, holding her tiny cooing daughter. Fiona fusses over the little bundle of joy, fixing her blanket and stroking the tiny wisps of red on her mostly bald head. Callan takes a seat on the bed, next to his girls.
Abby’s sparkling eyes lift to the clan in pure happiness. “May I introduce Serena Elizabeth Vivian St. Michael,” she says, with tears forming in her eyes.
I cup Serena’s cheek and smile at Abby. “What a beautiful name.”
“She’s our little piece of serenity in the world,” Callan whispers.
“Welcome to the family, Princess Serena.” I fight back tears.
Asher leans down and kisses Serena’s forehead before whispering to her.
“We will protect you, always.”
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COMING SPRING 2016
Thank you so much for reading The Revelation Series. So many of you have expressed how sad you are at the thought of the series ending. Though Restoration is the last chapter on Eve’s journey, I’m excited to introduce you to the next generation of the St. Michael and Gallagher clans in the Royal Protector Academy Trilogy.
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RPA will follow Serena St. Michael and Tristan Gallagher’s story. Some of your favorites from the Revelation Series will also be making guest appearances. Keep reading for a sneak peek of Vernal.
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For bonus material, please visit: randicooleywilson.com
Excerpt from Vernal
COMING SPRING 2016
My eyelids slide shut as the tiny drops of water cascade gracefully from the darkened sky. The warm droplets hit my face and trickle with effortless ease across my cool skin. I feel alive as my essence connects to the vigor the weather bestows. It seeps into me, penetrating each layer until the earth’s energy flows within my veins.
Ignoring the dull ache forming in my neck from tilting my face skyward, I lift my arms and without thought twirl my body. Embracing each tiny bead of water. The storm soaks the crenulated coastline with a fierce assault. The torrential rain heightens my innate tendency to absorb weather elements, causing my core to hum with vitality.
My lips lift blissfully as I pirouette my way through the mist-shrouded, endless green hills,each rise criss-crossed by tumbledown stone walls. I loved doing this as a child. Spinning so fast I’d become dizzy and disoriented until the earth around my feet would slip away and, breathlessly, I would collapse on the soggy blades of grass waiting to embrace me.
There’s something freeing, liberating, about standing in an open field with your arms extended, allowing the falling rain to wash away your inhibitions. Not that I have many hang-ups. Still, the ones I do own cling to my heart like chains. Suffocating me.
A childish laugh escapes me as my body tumbles and sprawls itself onto the soaked ground. I stretch my lean limbs across the damp blades of grass, while my long auburn locks fan out around my face. Opening my eyes, I watch the world spin
My free-spirited moment ends abruptly at the sound of a throat being cleared. I release a half-moan, half-sigh, knowing my moment of reprieve has ended. I don’t sit up to face the protector assigned to guard me. Instead, my annoyance overtakes the fleeting serenity I felt seconds ago.
My protector’s presence reminds me of my royal bloodline, my duties and obligations. I frown. He’s probably standing with his arms crossed in aggravation from my lack of acknowledgment. Well, the fucker can just stand in the rain. Serves him right for ruining a beautiful private moment. One I won’t see again while here.
“Go away, Rulf,” I instruct my bodyguard.
“You’re naked.” The statement comes from an unfamiliar seductive, masculine voice.
“Your keen ability to state the obvious is mind-blowing.” I smirk at my own wit.
The guy who isn’t Rulf releases a dark chuckle that unnerves me, rattling my core.
“I must have missed the clothing optional portion of the academy’s handbook.”
My stomach clenches as his silky voice drifts over my bare skin, caressing it.
“Something to work on.”
“What’s that?” The stranger inquires.
“Reading. It’s a prerequisite if you’re attending,” I counter.
“Is nudity a habitual behavior of yours?” he questions with an amused tone.
I roll onto my stomach, lift my cobalt gaze and meet his. “Yes.” Holy shit. He’s hot.
A knowing smirk appears on his delectable lips and my breath hitches.
“Nice ass,” he compliments, while his cognac irises run the length of my body.
Comfortable in my skin, I don’t shy away from his open perusal. His eyes roam across my body, leaving imprints everywhere they caress. I blush from his heated intensity. Desire slithers inside me, crawling into the crevices and suffocating me.
I take advantage of the fact that he’s lost in thought to observe his breathing, which is smooth, velvety soft. Unlike my unsolicited need to have him whisper dirty things to me in the dark, forever, he seems unaffected by me.
He runs both of his large hands through his dark blond, almost caramel hair, pushing the long top pieces of hair back in a sleek and sexy manner. The rain has soaked every perfect strand and they keep plastering themselves to his gorgeous sun-kissed face. It elicits a pang of jealousy within me, because for some stupid unknown girlie reason, I want to be the one to touch his perfect, chiseled face.
Silver and hematite rings adorn his fingers—like mine, all except his pinky finger are covered with them. I blink away the idea that our hands match and instead focus my roaming attention on his broad chest. It’s hidden under a thin white long-sleeve, V-neck cotton thermal, drenched by the rain, allowing me full viewing access to his muscles.
I study the leather rope hanging low from his neck. An emblem dangles from it, sitting under his shirt. He has his sleeves pulled to his elbows, showing off the leather and chain bracelets on each of his wrists. Adornments I’m familiar with. I sigh internally and something inside of me sinks.
My gaze lowers to his black worn jeans and black heavy boots. This guy reeks of danger and trouble. The air of cockiness he emanates is one I grew up with. It matches my father’s and uncle’s traits, meaning this hot specimen is definitely off-limits.
I meet his powerful glare and a shaky breath escapes me. I’m startled by the way he’s looking at me, like I’m his entire world. I need to get a grip on my erratic emotions. Standing, I put my entire unclothed body on display, hoping to throw him off balance.
Unfazed, his eyes lock onto mine. “Are you done assessing me?” he challenges.
“You’re a protector?” I accuse, pointing to the black inked Celtic tattoo on his right forearm. The symbol binds him to the Spiritual Assembly of Protectors.
His expression falters as if my accusation hurt him somehow. He doesn’t say anything but dips his chin in response. I take a step back, knowing all too well the feeling of suffocation associated with who we are and what we’re meant to do.
While trying to come up with something clever to say, I play nervously with my own piece of protector jewelry, sitting on my left wrist. The silver bracelet is intricately designed with flowers and vines around the band, hiding my smaller identical tattoo.
My aunt Eve, the queen of our race, gave it to me two years ago for my eighteenth birthday. It was something that her deceased mother, Elizabeth, a jewelry designer, had made for her when she was in high school. She had my uncle Asher, her mate, and our king, add the tiny chains and rubies, my healing stone, so they would hang off the sides in a feminine manner.
A small watch face was set on top with the hope that I would have become more responsible about time management. Not one of my strong suits. Along with rules, focus, education . . . you get the point. I despise the leather bands my family wears—they’ve always felt more like handcuffs to me than a required accessory.
As the only human in our clan, my aunt understands the need for me to have something that is truly a reflection of me. When she saw the band that was open, airy and less formal, she immediately had it made into something special that I adore.
Sometimes, I think Aunt Eve is the only one who understands my free spirit.
“I’m Tristan,” the stranger says in a way that slices right through to my bones.
“Serena,” I reply.
Tristan’s gaze roams over my body in a palpable manner, as he becomes intimate once again with my every curve. “Are you always so . . . welcoming, Serena?” He smirks.
When his eyes finally meet mine again, I arch a brow. “Only to those I like.”
“So you like me then?” He attempts to hide his smile.
I push my shoulders back, his eyes still locked on mine. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
Tristan cocks his head and crosses his impressive arms over his chest. My focus slides to the rain dripping off his face as he steps closer to me, so close that I trap a breath he’s exhaled in my lungs when his bare arm brushes my own.
Slowly he bends down, piercing me with an amused expression. “And here I was, completely impressed with myself that I had a beautiful girl naked, and wet, within five minutes of meeting her,” he seduces.
“That a record for you?” I offer a shy grin, not able to stop myself.
“It would seem so,” he counters.
“Maybe you’re just having an off year,” I reason.
Tristan’s eyes bore into me with an obvious sadness that stretches over us. “You have no idea just how off it’s been,” he retorts.
I trace his mouth with my eyes and part my lips to speak but he abruptly cuts me off when his hands lift to my face, cupping my cheeks. My body trembles at the touch. Tristan’s thumb lightly brushes a drop of rain off my bottom lip. I watch with a rapidly beating heart as he brings his thumb to his mouth and sucks off the bead of water.
“It’s been interesting meeting you, Serena.” My name feels like a test on his lips as he releases my face and takes a step back, sliding his hands in the front pockets of his jeans.
I lift my gaze to his. “You too, Tristan.”
A bright smile appears on his face. “See you around, raindrop.”
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Dialect Translations
Tas ámotas: My love (Garish)
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íde ámo: The love of my life (Garish)
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Ilem jur pri tú-tim, ew tú-tim pri pos-tim ali ide in-zen, mání, vas-wís, ew ter-ort. Esta-de ai esta Ilem de, Ilem pos-tim in-saengkt pri, tú-tim: I promise you forever, and forever you shall have my heart, soul, mind and body. With everything that I am, I will protect you, always. (Garish)
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Whit has become ay th’ fairy, yer highness: What has become of the fairy, your highness (Scottish).
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It was th’ will ay fate ’en: It was the will of fate then. (Scottish)
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Ye’ur askin’ us tae kill one ay our own. By torture?: You’re asking us to kill one of our own. By torture? (Scottish)
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Ah dinnae loch it, yoong prince: I don’t like it, young prince. (Scottish)
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Yer wuid es noted, yer highness. When we find hem, th’ Scottish clan will brin’ Deacon tae ye, strugglin’ fur his last breath. On our honur as protectors: Your words are noted, your highness. When we find him, the Scottish clan will bring Deacon to you, struggling for his last breath. On our honor as protectors. (Scottish)
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In-zen, mání, vas-wís, ew ter-ort: heart, body, mind and soul (Garish)
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Zhen pri: Family first (Garish)
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Xnuk Ek’: Evening Star (Mayan)
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Dieacht, honor, agus Cosaint: Duty, honor and protection (Gaelic)
Acknowledgments
Nothing can be accomplished without a team of amazing people around you who love and support you. This is true for this series, these characters, and me.
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Dave and Maddison. You are both the epitome of unconditional love and support. It’s because of you this series exists. Thank you for allowing me to follow my dreams.
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Kris Kendall. Best. Editor. Ever. I truly mean that. Over 500,000 words later and we can still laugh and have fun with these damn gargoyles. I’m extremely lucky to have gotten you out of this crazy ride. I am forever grateful to you, lady.
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