Now if only he could overcome the free will part of the equation. He couldn’t force her into using her alchemist powers on the metal as he wanted her to. At least not physically.
But there were other ways to get the results he desired.
With a mental shake, he glared at Emma.
Did she realize the connection she shared with the tree? If so, he’d have to move much quicker than he’d thought. No, no, he wouldn’t allow things to get out of hand. He swiped a restless hand along his jaw.
He tried to quiet the nervous energy that continually tugged him in conflicting directions. One moment he was certain of his mission’s success, the next of its failure. His gaze darted from Emma to Mrs. Busybody, listening intently. He plunged his hands into his pockets, withdrew them, then clasped them behind him.
The best he could determine, Emma was simply cold, not agitated or suspicious.
And Mrs. Grant took credit for arranging the commission of the statue her granddaughter had arrived to install.
Yes, it was better that Emma thought her grandmother was the instigator. Better she not discover the significance of the invitation to the installation ceremony. At least not until the ruination of the tree was complete or Emma and the Guardian were dead. Either outcome would give him great pleasure.
After all, he’d discovered firsthand that the best way to make someone suffer was to destroy the one thing that someone most loved. Yes, revenge would be his. About time.
Seth, Mr. Goodie-Goodie, would soon have his world turned upside down. And Venn and the Divine Tree along with him. He could barely contain his excitement. Three for the price of one. Brilliant.
Excited and restless, Io tugged on his shirt sleeve, then sought focus by touching the picture of a burned tree he kept tucked in his pocket. It represented his brother’s failure. His channeled hatred grew and his smokescreen, the shield he’d put in place so the tree wouldn’t detect his presence, disintegrated. Damn.
The stupid dog in the old ladies arms barked and growled.
* * *
A deep moan resounded within the catacomb. Custos? Venn straightened from his relaxed position. Immediately, his attention shot upward—above him, outside—and he stood.
What was that?
An irresistible tug made him palm his chest. He proceeded through the cavern entrance, back up the knotted stairs and angled tunnel, the pull intensifying with each step. If he were human, he’d be wondering if he were having a heart attack.
He hadn’t felt this collision of energy in two centuries.
Inside the sprawling tree, he climbed rough-hewn stairs to the watch room at ground level. He ignored the enormous circular space and its new modular furnishings as he fixed his attention on the highly polished wooden wall, where the force ran strongest. The bark itself had sight, a transparency by which he could see through the layers of wood to the world beyond, at will. He looked out, as he had done so many thousands of times in the past.
Outside, two females engaged in conversation. He immediately recognized Claire Grant. The old lady had been bragging everywhere she went about how her granddaughter, Emma, had designed a sculpture for Tyler’s historic town square and oldest park.
Venn’s park, not the town’s.
But he’d lost that battle a long time ago, and until recently, he had managed to direct the city officials’ attentions elsewhere. Damn their renewed interest. The tree had been marked for preservation purposes, which was a good thing, yet it also attracted unwanted attention. There were others who had an inclination of the riches the tree held, not in monetary value but in what they could do with the knowledge contained within.
The presumed granddaughter turned.
Venn advanced to the barrier, curious. He wanted to be closer to her, wanted nothing between them, not this tree, not this space. With his extraordinary sight and hearing, he could make her out perfectly, but it wasn’t enough. There was something about her…yet he couldn’t fathom why he’d be drawn Claire Grant’s granddaughter. How odd.
With a sweeping glance, the young woman arched her brows and strolled toward the tree. She seemed to stare right at him. Thick auburn hair draped over her shoulders, and she tilted her head, his equilibrium shattering. A roar took up residence inside his skull. Thunder vibrated through his chest, and explosive desire made him hard and ready.
His breath hitched. His inner beasts stirred without the customary summons, fighting each other, wolf and hawk vying for a glimpse of her.
She inched forward.
Yes, move closer.
She spoke, and he vaguely caught her whispered French phrase. “Coeur de mon coeur.”
Heart of my heart.
He swallowed, hard.
She placed a delicate palm on the trunk, and Venn growled as a surge of energy—her very essence—flowed into the tree, filled him as much as earthy air filled his lungs.
“I…feel something,” Emma said with opened-mouth awe. “The oak has been here for hundreds of years.”
When recognition hit Venn, it was with the force of an 18-wheeler rear-ending a car waiting at a traffic light. Every muscle in his body tensed as he saw flashes of her in a past life, of their limbs entwined, of her lips warm on his, of her vibrant laugh…of her dying.
Could it truly be Amelia? Had she returned to him in this woman, this Emma Grant?
Venn closed his eyes and summoned energy in all its manifested forms—heat, light, sound, magnetism, gravity, and all of life’s functions—reaching out to her, touching deep into her soul to test the theory. Her initial response was a lazy yawn, but then her mystical imprint danced, the spirit unique to her, proclaimed, Yes!
She. Was. His.
A heaviness slammed against his chest, followed by whiplash, pain, confusion. He’d been robbed of time, his woman, his love.
Ah, Amelia. Brought back to him after so long.
A spark flared in his chest, and his pulse sped up. Unwilling to move lest this sudden feel-good moment disappeared, he held his breath.
She glanced over her shoulder at her grandmother. “I have the strangest feeling of déjà vu.”
Overwhelmed, he wished he could vault through the barrier and take her in his arms. Instead, he braced both hands on thick chair arms as he slowly lowered himself into the seat, not taking his eyes off the woman with fiery hair and golden skin. Every fiber in his body stretched out to embrace her. She was his.
They’d been lovers in 1809. Companions. Promised journey mates. A favor from God.
His throat tightened at the memory, and he tried to drink in the air. She was the one woman gifted with the powers to complement his. He hadn’t known until too late how much he needed to share his life with someone. And his enemy had murdered her.
She must be the reason the tree summoned him.
He narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing the grounds for yet another assassin. But the only ones there were the Grants.
Uncertain what to expect, he watched, fisting his hand with a vow.
This time he would protect her. This time he would fulfill the promise of a lifetime mate. This time she would be his. Forever.
Emma’s brow furrowed as her hand swept along the bark of the tree. His tree. “Did I come here as a girl?” she asked. “I seem to know this place.”
“I don’t think so, child. Your father didn’t wander much south of the ravine. Claimed he got bad vibes here. Always afraid, that boy. Not enough faith. Of course, there were all kinds of stories bantered about back then. Some about a man being killed out here, tales about witches and ghosts, you name it. The place became run-down. But with the city rejuvenation and cleanup, well… As you can see, things are different now.”
Indeed, things had changed, Venn mused. His mansion lay south of the park, far enough away so as to not attract visitors. A strategic plan he’d sanctioned to assure his privacy. Back in the day, he’d met with wealthy plantation owners and connected politicians on his own terms. Otherwise, he’d avoided them. As
time passed and with the never-ending urbanization, he didn’t care for the coziness.
When Emma pulled her hand away from the bark, it was like part of him flickered, then snuffed out. He got a mild case of shakes, and his temperature plummeted.
“It’s getting late, you must be tired,” Mrs. Grant said.
“Nah. I’m a night person, remember? How about if we stop by Aunt Fay’s Coffee Shop on the way home? I’ve been dreaming about one of her famous cinnamon buns all the way here.”
“Okay. You drive.” She hitched the small dog she held higher under her arm.
They were leaving. With a leap, Venn stood, banging his knee on the side table. He winced and beat back a wave of anxiety. He’d been given a second chance and he’d be damned if he’d let her out of his sight this time. At least, not for long.
Keenly aware that she wouldn’t know him in this life, he needed to initiate a meeting. This minute. However, walking up out of nowhere in a shabby park might scare her.
He wished they could simply pick up where they’d left off.
He envisioned her smiling at him with recognition and running into his opened arms.
But as she got closer to the car and farther from him, the vision scattered.
Aunt Fay’s. That was it.
He could use a jolt of caffeine.
* * *
AWAKENING FIRE is available
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Other Books by Larissa Emerald
Paranormal Romance
Divine Tree Guardian Series
Awakening Fire
Awakening Touch
Awakening Storm
Vampire
Forever at Dawn
Forever at Midnight
Terror, MN
Forever at Risk
Nocturne Falls Universe
The Vampire Bounty Hunter’s Unexpected Catch
The Shaman Charms the Shifter
The Witch’s Snow Globe Wish (Merry & Bright Anthology)
The Dragon Falls for the Fairy Godmother
The Inspector Claims the Vampiress
The Lion, the Witch, and the Secret Garden
Romantic Suspense
Winter Heat
Contemporary Romance
Come Sail Away – Barefoot Bay Novella
~ ~ ~
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About the Author
Larissa Emerald has always had a powerful creative streak whether it’s altering sewing patterns, or the need to make some minor change in recipes, or frequently rearranging her home furnishings, she relishes those little walks on the wild side to offset her otherwise quite ordinary life. Her eclectic taste in books cover numerous genres, and she writes sexy contemporary romance, paranormal romance, and futuristic romantic thrillers. But no matter the genre or time period, she likes strong women in dire situations who find the one man who will adore her beyond reason and give up everything for true love.
Larissa is happy to connect with her readers. Stop by and say hello: Website, Facebook, Twitter, or send her an email: [email protected]
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