Ascension Series Boxset: Books 1 - 3

by Laura Hall

  Delilah was, as Ethan had confirmed, a masterful manipulator. She’d also admitted wanting to keep me out of the line of fire, though I didn’t believe for one second the sentiment was born of maternal instinct.

  Either she’d underestimated the bond between my dad and me, or was playing a game of her own making. My money was on the latter.

  Across from me, Katrina threw her cards down with a huff. I cackled and raked in my winnings: a bag of chips, three chocolate bars, and a pile of hard candies.

  She gave me the stink eye. “At least it’s easier being in the same room with you after whatever your sexy alien did. I don’t feel like I’m constantly rubbing up against a balloon.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “Sexy alien? Really? And he’s not mine.”

  She snagged a chocolate bar from my pile and tore it open, then took a bite and waggled the chewed end at me. “You’re a big game hunter, my friend. Taking down alpha males left and right.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  But unfortunately, I did. I wasn’t blind to the growing affection in Ethan’s eyes. Nor had I missed the way Lucian looked at me.

  Katrina gave me a flat stare. “It’s the whole damsel-in-distress mystique. Plus, those big gray peepers are all shiny and earnest, singing ‘Help me! Help me!’'”

  I laughed and threw a piece of candy at her. “You’re full of shit. I’m the opposite of a wilting damsel.”

  She grinned, stretching her arms over her head until her back cracked. “Well, I know that, but men, they’re not as quick in the heads.” She demolished her chocolate and tossed the wrapper to the table. “Just be careful with Ethan, will you? He’s falling fast.”

  My stomach turned and I felt the blood leave my face. I squashed my first instinct, which was to shout denials. She was right, and my dad had taught me not to run from the truth just because it was uncomfortable.

  I was walking a dangerous line with a powerful man, one I respected, liked, and was attracted to—all necessary ingredients to grow a relationship. Given time, I knew something good and strong could easily flourish.

  I was holding back, and it wasn’t because of the insane circumstances.

  “It’s the Prime, isn’t it?” asked Katrina softly.

  I looked out a nearby window at the clear sky. Either Lucian’s influence was keeping me stable, or Alisande’s wards were holding strong.

  “Yes,” I replied, admitting it as much to myself as to her.

  “And he’s in love with his dead girlfriend,” she said levelly. “That’s drama worthy of a soap opera, Fiona.”

  I sighed past the sudden ache in my chest. “It’s complicated.”

  “Oh, Lord,” she said sadly. “You’re in love with him.”

  I blinked hard and focused on her face. “Maybe. I don’t know. Honestly, it’s been so long I don’t even remember what it feels like. Am I in love or in lust? Or am I just in awe of him, of his age and power? He wears so many masks.” I shook my head. “I think I’ve seen the real man, but I don’t know.”

  Her lips thinned in sympathy. “You should forget about him. Connor Thorne is like the moon. Beautiful from far away, but the surface will kill you.”

  I was saved a response by a crisp knock on the door. Katrina rose to open it and an exhausted Ethan stepped into the room. He caught my eye and smiled, and I felt a flutter of . . . something. A hopeful uncertainty.

  “Done,” he said, lifting a hand from which dangled two long strips of black fabric.

  My nerves shivered in anticipation as I stood and accepted the gloves. They were lightweight but dense, with the softness of silk and the stretch of a cotton blend.

  “Where did you get the material?”

  He winked. “Found it lying around.”

  I smirked and pulled off my sweatshirt, then tugged on the first glove. A tingle moved up my spine and over the crown of my head. I watched, gape-mouthed, as the fabric rippled unnaturally against my skin, molding to every slope and angle from above my elbow to the tips of my fingers. Faint violet light shimmered, then quieted.

  I stared in awe at Ethan. “I can barely feel it.”

  He nodded proudly. “Now the other.”

  I pulled on the second glove and the same sensation flowed over me. “My charge doesn’t feel any different,” I said uncertainly. “Is it supposed to?”

  He shook his head, still smiling. “Touch Katrina.”

  “Whoa—” Katrina started, backing up with her hands raised. “No, thanks.”

  Mal veered into the room and stopped, gaze pinging from my gloves to my face. He glanced at Ethan. “I heard you were done. So? Do they work?”

  I wiggled my fingers at him. “Care to be a guinea pig?”

  Katrina sighed in relief as my uncle walked forward and grabbed my hand. My charge surged, then dispersed beneath the fabric of the gloves, which again glowed violet.

  “Extraordinary,” said Mal, glancing with approval at Ethan. “Well done.”

  Ethan nodded. “Thank you.”

  Katrina reversed her retreat. “Okay, now I’ve got to try.” She reached out tentatively and tapped my wrist with her forefinger. Her eyes grew wide and she touched me more firmly, wrapping her fingers around my forearm. “Amazing.”

  Ethan chuckled. “When you have a surge, the spell will activate and disperse the energy. It should work even on a large scale. There will be some electrostatic offshoot, but nothing lethal. To conjure lightning, you only have to remove them.”

  “They’re like miniature lightning rods?” asked Katrina, still trailing her fingers over my arm.

  “More like surge protectors. Instead of drawing the charge into them, like Adam’s bracelets did, they redirect it into the ground. The greatest side effect you’ll feel, Fiona, is a tingling in your feet.”

  Grinning up at him, I felt a damnable prickling in my eyes. “Thank you.”

  His expression softened, dark eyes warming enough to bring heat to my face. He brushed a thumb across my jaw. “You’re welcome.”

  Katrina cleared her throat. “Well, then. Can we get the hell out of here? This place gives me the creeps.”

  “Agreed,” said Mal, then looked at me expectantly. “Rosie?”

  I closed my eyes and saw her immediately. “She’s been playing slots for the last three hours. Winning, too, from the pile of coins in her bucket.”

  Katrina chortled. “Let’s turn her luck around, shall we?” When we all just stared at her, she winced. “You’re right, that was bad.”

  I turned around to pack, but mostly to hide my smile.

  Eight

  It was only six hours to Las Vegas, and we entered the outskirts of the city just after 10:00 p.m. As Ethan exited the freeway and headed south on the Strip, Mal turned on his cell phone and began calling around for rooms. He went down the list of hotels methodically, agitation growing as one after the other reported being fully booked.

  “It’s Monday,” said Katrina in a huff. “Don’t people have jobs?”

  “Is it a holiday or something?” I asked from the back seat.

  “There must be conventions,” offered Ethan, as Mal renewed his efforts.

  Then, as we passed the Venetian for the second time, Katrina snapped, “Stop the car.”

  Ethan pulled over, cutting off a honking cab, and the four of us stared up at the blazing marquee of the Venetian. Mal lowered the phone from his ear, ending the current call and silencing the recorded voice on the other end.

  This Week @ Venetian, CASE Convention.

  The Coalition for All Species Equality, or CASE, was the nation’s largest multi-species organization, with dedicated Washington lobbyists and supporters ranging from Hollywood elite to the president’s wife.

  My stomach redoubled its knot-tying efforts. Too loudly, I asked Katrina, “How did you not know about this?”

  She glared. “You killed my cell phone.”

  “And I made her promise to stay off the grid,” added Ethan.
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  Katrina pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes. “Trust me, guys, if I’d known about this we wouldn’t be here. As it is, I’m going to get a serious dressing down.”

  Mal turned to Ethan. “How did you not know about this?”

  “I’m not on the mailing list,” he snapped. “Besides, Fiona’s the one with the Sight.”

  Okay, we were all officially cranky.

  “This doesn’t bode well,” said Mal mutedly. “Rosie’s staying at the Venetian, isn’t she?”

  “Yes,” I said and watched the marquee shift to a new message.

  The Western and Southern Primes. Grand Ballroom, Tuesday @ 8:00 p.m. SOLD OUT.

  “Shit,” said Ethan.

  “Bad to worse,” murmured Katrina.

  The Western Prime.

  Connor was going to be in Las Vegas tomorrow. Might be here now. And he’d known we were headed to Vegas. Known that Rosie, and potentially the Liberati, were also here.

  My heart accelerated at the notion of seeing him face to face, even as my scalp prickled with anger. I reached over Mal’s shoulder.

  “Give me your phone.”

  He passed it to me without comment. I scrolled down the contact list to Thorne, gloves glowing violet as they dispersed my growing charge. I pressed Call before I could think twice, then held my breath.

  He answered on the second ring. “Malcolm?” A pause. “Ah, Fiona.”

  His voice poured over me, lifting unwelcome goose bumps. “You can’t come to Las Vegas,” I blurted.

  “Too late for that,” he said wryly.

  My lungs squeezed with fear. “Dammit, Connor, you knew Rosie was here for the convention. Why didn’t you tell me? What if the Liberati are here and they attack you again?”

  His voice cooled. “I am perfectly aware of and prepared for that possibility. As are Adam and Declan. Fate has a strange way of weaving, does it not? Had you stayed in our care, you would be with us now, sipping cocktails in the penthouse of the Venetian.”

  I sputtered and finally ground out, “What’s your endgame? You’d better not be thinking about going after Rosie.”

  “Why would I?” he asked serenely. “You didn’t tell me where she was staying. Prime Kilpatrick and I are merely here for a meet and greet with CASE members. Nothing more.”

  “Right,” I said flatly.

  I heard Declan’s voice in the background, followed by Adam’s, but couldn’t make out any words. Connor said with thinly veiled amusement, “My Alpha and Omega are insisting I reassure you of our heightened security measures, though I’m curious at the need.”

  “You—” I bit my cheek, hard. “Give the phone to Adam.”

  I could hear his smile as he said, “As you wish.”

  “Fiona?” came Adam’s harried voice. “Connor just told us on the flight down that you’d be here. Rosie’s in Vegas? Are you with Ethan and Malcolm?”

  “Yes and yes,” I said shortly. “Is Connor out of his mind?”

  Adam grunted. “He isn’t concerned, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “You mean he’s not afraid of a bomb or an organized attack, even though both are a possibility. He’s not immortal, for Christ’s sake.”

  “I completely agree,” he said, with a pregnant pause in which I knew he was glaring at his Prime. “The FBI has been informed of the threat and are crawling all over the hotel and surrounding venues. Where are you staying? If the Liberati are in the city, you know it’s not safe for you. Let us protect you.”

  From beside me, Katrina hissed, “Say yes.”

  I clenched my teeth and looked at the men in the front seat, both of whom had turned to face me. Ethan looked resigned, while Mal had a determined mien. My uncle nodded sharply and mouthed, “Yes.”

  “Okay.” I sighed into the phone.

  Adam released a breath. “Thank God. How close are you? I’ll send Declan down to the lobby.”

  “Five minutes,” I said and hung up.

  Ethan’s jaw clenched, but he turned and maneuvered the car back into traffic, then pulled into the entrance of the hotel.

  Mal stayed facing me. “You made the right choice.”

  I shook my head. “Then why do I feel like Delilah is laughing at me?”

  “Hey, let’s not look a gift horse in the mouth,” Katrina said softly. “Gloves or not, you’re not exactly incognito. Your face has been all over the news for days. If the Liberati are really planning something, there’s no safer place than with the Primes.”

  Ethan mumbled something under his breath, then said, “If you’re concerned about Prime Thorne, he’s probably safest with you beside him. The Liberati want you alive.”

  “Charming, coz,” snapped Katrina.

  We rolled to a stop and two valets rushed to open our doors. I joined Mal on the curb as Ethan and Katrina grabbed our duffels from the trunk.

  Despite the hour nearing 11:00 p.m., it was ridiculously crowded outside the hotel. Sunburnt tourists shared the sidewalk with glossy coeds and prowling groups of polished young men. Cabs docked and tore away from the curb in steady intervals, heading to neighboring nightclubs and restaurants.

  Shifters, mages, vamps, and ciphers mixed without care, influenced by Vegas’ cocktail of desperation and anticipation. Or maybe they were all members of CASE, whose unofficial tagline was, Can’t we all just get along?

  I blinked as a light flashed in my eyes. Then another flashed, and another.

  “It’s the Elemental!” cried a voice.

  Chaos erupted. Mal and I were surrounded in seconds, quickly separated from Katrina and Ethan. Cell phones and digital cameras flashed in our faces as voices yammered questions, one on top of the next.

  “Are you here for the convention?”

  “Are you with Prime Thorne?”

  “Why did you cut your hair?”

  Heat rushed in waves down my arms and my feet tingled painfully. I looked around for Ethan and spotted a telling violet shimmer, moving steadily closer as he forced his way toward us. A glance at the entrance of the hotel showed another thickening crowd, but no Declan.

  Hands reached for me and Mal hollered, “Unless you want to be electrocuted, don’t touch her!”

  The crowd recoiled and Ethan finally broke through, a wide-eyed Katrina right behind him. He grabbed me, tucking me tight against his side, as Katrina and Mal held back the rabid crowd. Slowly, we began edging toward the main doors.

  “Where the fuck is the FBI?” growled Ethan.

  Katrina shot him a heated look. “It’s not like they knew we were coming!”

  “Fiona, do you support CASE?”

  “Show us your lightning!”

  We were almost to the doors when there was a disturbance inside the hotel. The crowd inside rippled, peeling away from the force’s epicenter.

  I knew who came, even before I felt the first tendrils of dark, radiant energy, the heated rush of an active spell from Adam, and Declan’s pulse riding beneath the higher frequencies. The men appeared, striding in a line with Connor in the center. They reached the entrance, people scattering from their path even as voices lifted higher in excitement and curiosity.

  I gasped for air, struggling to breathe past an epic panic attack.

  “Quiet, please,” said the Omega.

  Silence was sudden and profound. Cameras lowered all around as everyone stared, slack-jawed, at the Western Triumvirate. Sounds from the hotel and the Strip—honking cars, laugher, music, clinking slot machines—seemed, too, to fade.

  “Thank you,” said the Prime graciously. “We are flattered by your warm reception of our friend and associate, who honors us with her presence. Fiona?”

  I stared at the elegant hand extended toward me, then met the expectant, humored green gaze.

  You did this on purpose, I thought at him.

  One corner of his mouth lifted.

  Ethan cursed under his breath and released me, giving me a light nudge. I managed to walk the fifteen feet, only limping a little,
and slipped my hand into Connor’s waiting one. He bowed, lips grazing my gloved knuckles.

  “You do know how to make an entrance, don’t you?” he murmured as he rose.

  My arm was tucked quickly into his and he turned, guiding us back into the hotel and toward the bay of elevators.

  I glanced around in a daze, noticing at least ten men in nondescript suits, with bulges on their hips, stationed throughout the lobby. There were also a good number of men and women in dark jackets with FBI or SIU emblazoned in white across the shoulders. They nodded as we passed, keen gazes narrowing on me before flowing away to assess our surroundings.

  Connor pulled me into a waiting elevator and hit a button on the interior panel. Adam and Declan halted just outside, turning as they were approached by several FBI agents.

  As the doors slid closed and we began to ascend, I sagged against a wall, as far from Connor as I could get. Closing my eyes, I struggled to find a calm point in the storm raging inside me. It was impossible—the Prime’s ginormous aura kept flaring in the space between us, brushing against my body like silk.

  “Stop, please.”

  Between one moment and the next, the sensation vanished. “Better?”

  I opened my eyes to glare. “Did you plant people outside, to incite the crowd like that?”

  Eyes flashing to an angered emerald, he closed the distance between us in two long strides. I flattened against the wall, sucking in a startled breath and inadvertently filling my lungs with his scent. My traitorous body responded, funneling heat straight to my core.

  His lips parted, revealing the tips of his fangs. “As I said, fate does weave itself in labyrinthine ways.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I growled.

  His fingers lifted and began toying with the hair over my ear. “Every time I let you go, you return,” he murmured, gaze settling on my lips. “I’m a disciplined man, but you seem determined to provoke me.”

  His eyes met mine, their irises obsidian now, galaxies spinning in their depths. Warmth cascaded through my limbs. I swallowed heavily, but the reflex felt delayed. My vision sparkled at the edges. An internal voice warned that this was the Prime’s glamour, designed to deaden my instincts, my willpower, until I became his docile prey.