I turn and watch the landscape roll by through the passenger window as we leave the Kingsley College area. “So, you’re family friends of McKenna and Abby?” I ask then chastise myself. That was riveting dialogue, Eve.
“Yes.” His glance slides to me then back to the road. “McKenna is dating my brother, Keegan, and Abby is seeing my other brother, Callan,” he replies.
Interesting. Nothing like keeping it all in the family, I internally snicker. “How did you all meet?” I ask to keep the discussion going.
“We grew up together. Our families were long time friends,” he says through a stressed jaw.
“So you all go to Kingsley together?” I press.
“No.” Asher doesn’t elaborate as we drive out of town.
I want to keep the conversation moving. My need to know more about him is becoming an unhealthy obsession. “Are you from around here? I thought I detected a slight accent. Plus it seems you speak Gaelic fluently,” I throw out with a sarcastic edge.
His jaw tenses again. “I was born in New York but my family moved to London when I was very young. We traveled between New York, England, Ireland, France, and Scotland quite a bit for my father’s job. I guess I picked up a trace of an accent here and there, as well as the languages. I can also speak French, Latin, and Welsh.” He ponders this as if it’s the first time he’s considering that he has an accent or speaks multiple languages with such ease.
“What does your father do for work?”
His face turns guarded and defensive. “He was in politics and private security. Mainly working with religious politicians,” Asher answers but it sounds contrived.
“Is he retired?” I dig deeper.
“No,” he says, shaking his head, his tone short and distant.
“And your mother, what does she do?” This one sided conversation is like pulling teeth.
“She was in the same line of work,” he replies with a slight annoyance forming on the outskirts of his voice.
I notice his use of the past tense when speaking about his parents. “Are they in New York or back in London?”
“Eve, listen, I don’t mean to be unkind but both my parents are no longer with us. I would prefer not to talk about them.” With that, he successfully ends my line of questioning.
“Of course. I’m sorry to hear that. I lost both my parents too but that was when I was a baby. I know the void that leaves with you,” I offer with sincere empathy.
Indecision flashed across his face, but then it was gone. The hand on the shifter comes off, reaching for mine. He takes my hand in his for the briefest moment and squeezes before releasing it. My body responds immediately to his touch and then diminishes just as fast at the loss of contact.
Asher’s demeanor changes again, alerting me his annoyance levels are rising. I need to change the dialogue to a neutral topic. “Are you the oldest, middle, or youngest child? I mean, you said you have only the two brothers Keegan and Callan?” I inquire, aching to learn more about him.
He seems to relax as he answers. “Keegan is what you would consider twenty-three, I’m twenty, and Callan is eighteen.” He smirks. “I suppose, technically, that makes me the middle child. No other siblings to discuss other than them.”
I pull my brows together in confusion. “What you consider?” I ask. “That’s an odd choice of words.”
He pauses, selecting his next words with care. “I just meant that age tends not to be a big deal in our family. It’s not like we keep track of who’s older and who’s younger.” Weird.
“I turned eighteen in May,” I offer. “I was always the youngest in my class. It sucked.” That earned me a chuckle.
“Well, I think you’ll find eighteen changes everything, so I wouldn’t worry about the past.” His gaze lingers on me for a moment.
His eyes seem older than twenty. There’s a lifetime of wisdom, sorrow, and obscurity behind them. As if he’s lived an existence of never ending heartache. Maybe that’s why he’s so aloof. I turn to look out the passenger window, enjoying the rest of the ride in comfortable silence.
Asher drives us to an adjacent town about forty minutes outside of campus that locals consider to be full of ‘old money.’ The estates here are massive, each with their own personality. They’re meticulously cared for and maintained, right down to their impeccable lawns, safeguarded behind tall gates.
I’m seriously wondering what he is doing in this section of town. Breaking my contemplation, he slows down and pulls up to an intimidating, medieval iron gate, adorned with large and fierce looking dragon heads on each side.
After pressing some numbers on the high tech keypad and scanning his thumbprint, the gates creak open, allowing us entry. We continue driving on a long, cobbled, circular driveway leading to an off white stone mansion.
My eyes dart around, taking everything in. “This is your home?” I ask in awe.
“Yes.” He smiles at me with pride. Asher follows the circular driveway toward the estate and parks next to a motorcycle and multiple expensive-looking cars. The only one I recognize is Abby’s black Mini Cooper.
In the center of the round driveway is an enormous, ornate, off white water fountain showcasing the same dragon heads as the gate. It’s made of smooth granite and the dragon heads have water streaming out of their mouths into the pool below. The entire sight is beyond gorgeous.
The front yard is covered in flowers and beautiful topiaries. It’s so peaceful here. Asher cuts the engine and turns to face me, hesitancy crossing his face. The next moment, he’s out of the car. Walking around to the passenger side, he opens the door and offers his hand. I take it, attempting a graceful exit. His eyes are fixed on mine. The intensity causes a shiver to ripple through my body. Again, the strange warmth hums inside my veins at his touch.
“Thanks,” I manage to say with a hint of shyness.
“No problem.”
His eyes drop to my parted lips. Needing to retreat, I step away, my back colliding with the car. Asher drops my hand, steps forward, and cages me in with one arm on each side of the car. I hold my breath at the proximity and in anticipation of his next move.
Lifting his right hand, he brushes my hair over my shoulder, exposing my neck. His fingertips lightly caress the spot on my head that met the ground earlier. Goose bumps rise on my skin at the intimate gesture. Without thought, my tongue darts out and licks my bottom lip. His eyes flicker to it before narrowing again, masking whatever emotion might have been there. Asher squeezes his eyes closed and then open, as if forcing himself to come out of a trance. Then he steps back, putting distance between us.
“Abby’s waiting. We should get going,” he grumbles.
“Okay.” It’s all I can manage after the intensity of the moment.
What just happened? I move away from the car as he shuts the door and places his hand on the small of my back. It’s becoming a bit of a habit with him. He guides me up the few steps to the two large, dark brown, wooden front doors, adorned with the same iron dragon heads from the gate and in the fountain. These people certainly love dragons.
To the right of the entrance is a brass plaque set within one of the home’s stones. La Gargouille Manor. Interesting. Just as I’m about to ask Asher what it means, the heavy doors groan open and Abby is standing there, staring at Asher with a worried look on her face. It washes away and turns into relief as soon as she sees me, quickly snagging me into a stern hug.
“Abigail, give her some breathing room. She’s fine,” Asher says. His hand is still on my lower back, branding me as he guides me out of her hold and into the largest foyer I’ve ever seen.
The walls are crafted of an off white stone which is soft and warm. Directly in front of us is a grand staircase that leads to the second floor landing, which is open and overlooks the entryway.
The stairs are made of dark hardwood and black rod iron railings. In the center of the ceiling is a black rod iron chandelier, featuring what seem to be candles, but upon closer inspection, I n
otice they’re actually flameless. Under the circular chandelier is a round granite table decorated with red snapdragons in a large medieval vase.
There are paintings on the walls of castles and, I think, European churches, but what really catches my eye are the beautiful stone statues displayed in alcoves all around the foyer and into the hallways. The entire manor has a modern medieval feel to it. Professor Davidson would love this.
Abby shuts the doors and uses her most cheerful voice. “Eve, welcome to La Gargouille Manor. We’re so happy you’re here.” With that, she takes my hand, pulling me away from Asher. The warmth of his touch leaves me wanting it back.
She tugs at my arm, dragging me down a long hallway designed in a similar décor as the foyer. My eyes scan everywhere as Abby hauls me into a considerable family room.
The softly lit room is adorned with a massive brown leather sectional, a big fireplace blazing with a generous fire, and beautiful antique wooden tables. Next to the fire are two wingback chairs and a flat screen TV hangs over the fireplace, airing a football game.
Ceiling to floor windows and French doors allow the natural light to filter into the room, bouncing off the dark hardwood floors and stunning stonework on the walls.
My attention is drawn to McKenna, who’s playing pool with a guy that looks similar to Asher. His brown hair is longer on top and perfectly styled. He’s wearing tailored black pants and a dark grey button up shirt with the top button undone and sleeves rolled to his elbows, showing off the same Celtic cross tattoo on his forearm. The attractive guy also wears the same leather bracelets on both wrists as Asher, although his stones are red.
Though I see the similarities in the two, this man looks much more reserved with a quiet intelligence about him. He hits his shot. Stripes in the corner pocket. Pleased with himself, his blue eyes look up at me and he stands to his full height.
“Eve, this is my,” Asher pauses before catching himself, “older brother, Keegan St. Michael. Keegan, Eve.”
Keegan walks over to me with a very debonair swagger, holding out his hand and shaking mine in a formal way. “Pleasure, Eve.” His smile is polite.
I didn’t think it possible but this brother seems even more standoffish and intimidating than Asher. He’s extremely muscular, giving off a fierce warrior vibe. I get the impression he would win a bar fight with his eyes closed.
“Hi,” I respond.
McKenna saunters up to us, entwining her arm through Keegan’s and tightening her eyes at me. “Hello, Eve.” The ice queen sounds even more thrilled about me being here than I am.
Clearly marking her territory. She should just pee on him while she’s at it. He steps back and puts his arm around her shoulder as she relaxes into his side.
I respond by putting on my fakest and sweetest tone. “Hi, McKenna. As always, it’s delightful to see you.”
Suddenly, I’m jerked away by another Asher look-a-like with my back to his very muscular chest. He’s squeezing me so hard in a bear hug I might pass out from the lack of oxygen. Evidently, this person has no issues with physical contact or boundaries. Jeez, this must be the other brother, Callan. Are they all on steroids?
“Eves.” I guess that’s his nickname for me. “So good to have you here with us,” he says with a great amount of enthusiasm.
“Um, thanks. Do you think you could loosen your grip on my lungs?” I plead, needing air.
He lets me go. “Oh, of course. Sorry about that.” Callan’s voice sounds amused and less than apologetic.
I turn around, caught off guard by how different he is both in personality and appearance compared to his brothers. Callan has the same height, muscular build, and physical features, and not surprising, he also has the same piercing blue eyes and short, dark brown hair. This brother also has a Celtic cross arm tattoo and leather wristbands with green stones on his arms.
However, unlike Keegan and Asher, he doesn’t have the hard edge to him that makes them frightening and intimidating. Callan’s entire demeanor screams laid back and easy going. His eyes and features are kind and warm.
Also unlike Keegan and Asher, his fashion style is a bit more casual because he’s wearing frayed jeans, flip flops, and a grey t-shirt that reads: I refuse to engage in a battle of wits with an unarmed person.
“Eve, this big teddy bear is my guy and Asher and Keegan’s younger brother, Callan St. Michael,” Abby states.
At his introduction, Callan gives me a mega watt toothy grin. “Nice to officially meet you, Eves. Welcome to the family, cutie,” he says in the most sincere way.
My eyebrows lift in bewilderment. “Officially?”
Everyone tenses. “Abby here hasn’t stopped talking about her ‘new roommate’ and ‘friend’ Eve,” he teases. “It’s like we’ve gotten to know you second hand.”
I smile. “Yeah, I’m pretty fond of Abby myself.”
McKenna snorts behind me.
Callan places a kiss on Abby’s cheek as she blushes. “It’s true. My girl is loved by all.”
Abby swats him away with a smile. It’s obvious they enjoy teasing one another and are in love. For a fleeting moment, I’m jealous of their relationship. It would be nice to have someone like that in my life. I look around the room and my eyes land on Asher. He’s just watching me with an unreadable expression. It’s almost like he’s in shock that I’m standing in his house with his family.
“How are you feeling? Asher said you hit your head running from a crazy dog,” Keegan inquires.
My eyes catch Asher’s. “I’m fine. It’s just a slight bump. No big deal. Asher was the one who got scratched up pretty badly on his chest.” I point toward him.
All eyes in the room turn to Asher for further explanation.
“It was a small scratch.” He shrugs. “We’re lucky the dog didn’t bite us. I think it had rabies.”
“Wow, what an unbelievable ordeal,” Callan says, blowing out a breath.
“Yes, very unbelievable,” I say, narrowing my eyes at Asher.
He shifts uncomfortably. “Well, now that introductions have been made, Abby, why don’t you take Eve around and show her the house and grounds?” Asher says, changing the topic of discussion.
Callan turns to Asher, grinning from ear-to-ear. “Actually, Ash, Abby agreed to help me go shopping for dinner so perhaps you should take our beautiful guest on a tour. I don't know... maybe start with your bedroom.” He wiggles his eyebrows at Asher, using an innocent tone.
“Callan.” His name sounds more like a firm and authoritative warning coming from Keegan versus a statement.
“Eves, we’ll see you in a bit. Ignore Asher’s attitude. He likes to brood. It’s what the ladies seem to like about him,” he teases and walks out with Abby while the four of us stand there awkwardly.
McKenna attempts politeness, but her tight face makes it hard to believe. “Eve, would you like something to drink or perhaps to sit down?”
“No, thanks.”
Asher steps in. “Why don’t I show you around. It will be less, uncomfortable.” He forces a small smile, glaring at McKenna.
“Okay,” I agree, grateful to leave this room.
He pauses, looking down at himself. “First though, we should clean up. We look like we’ve been attacked by a pack of dogs,” he jokes.
“Abby and I have guest rooms here. She left some clothes for you to borrow in her room. There’s also a private bathroom with fresh towels for you to clean up,” McKenna informs me in a hospitable manner. Weird.
Asher walks over to me, placing his hand on the small of my back in his usual place, leading me out of what I now have dubbed, ‘the tension room.’
As expected, the rest of the house is stunning. There are two wings, each with a hallway off the entryway. In total, the house has seven bedrooms, ten bathrooms, a movie theater, training room, dining room, wine cellar, library and office.
The grounds are just as impressive. With a large cobblestone patio featuring a built in
BBQ area, an in ground pool, and what looks like an outdoor training area, it’s no wonder these guys are so in shape. Between the pool and the indoor/outdoor gyms, I can’t imagine them not being completely ripped.
At the moment, Asher and I are sitting in the library, drinking hot chocolate. I’m curled up on the couch next to him as I lean my head back and face him. He’s freshly showered and has changed into a clean, non-blood stained white shirt. His boots are plopped up on the coffee table, ankles crossed comfortably.
The fireplace is lit for warmth. The shadows caused by the flames dance across his facial features, stirring the butterflies in me again as I memorize his profile without shame, falling in love with his constant five o’clock shadowed jawline.
His deep voice snaps me out of my scandalous thoughts. “Are you warm enough?”
The side of my mouth tilts, happy gentle Asher is here with me and cocky Asher is not. “Yes, this is probably my favorite room I’ve seen in the entire house. Thanks for having me here and for making hot cocoa with dark chocolate and mini marshmallows.”
Asher places his mug on the table. He interlaces his hands behind his head and leans against the back of the couch, mirroring my position.
He gives me his incredibly beautiful real smile. “You’re welcome. I figured milk chocolate would be too sweet for you,” he taunts.
We both sit in comfortable silence for a moment before I bravely decide to speak. “Who owns the house?”
“This house belongs to Keegan, Callan and myself,” Asher says. “We also have a similar home in London. Both estates were left to us by our parents,” He’s watching my reaction.
My gaze moves to the flames before returning to him. “Do Abby and McKenna stay here often?” I ask, trying to ignore the ridiculous twinge of envy brought on at the thought of them being so close to Asher.
He smirks knowingly. “Yes. Our parents and their parents were all very close friends. The six of them were also in business together. The girls’ mothers were sisters and married men who were more like brothers to my father than friends. Making us all family,” he recounts. “We spent most of our childhood with Abby and Kenna. Schools, vacations, holidays, family functions, well, you get the picture. When all six of our parents didn’t return after a business trip, Keegan sort of became our guardian.”
REVELATION (THE REVELATION SERIES) Page 6