Revolution (The Revelation Series Book 4)

by Randi Cooley Wilson

  “What?” I question quietly.

  “When you get to Heaven, do you think they’ll let you bring your protector?”

  “Who are you?” I shout into the nothingness.

  “The prince, he’s so full of darkness,” the woman whispers flirtatiously. “You’re of one flesh and spirit now. Your dark side radiates almost as much as the light. You’re tainted.”

  “I don’t understand,” I say on a quiet exhale.

  “Your mistakes are great, innocent one. You chose to be tested. To prove yourself. Falsehoods have put you in harm’s way. A narcissistically distracted bloodline trait, Eve.”

  “Show yourself,” I demand.

  “It has begun. Runnnnnnnnn,” she whispers.

  The sky produces a deep rumble, introducing thousands of dark silhouettes. I turn to run, but I’m grabbed before I can take my first step.

  Inhaling the putrid smell of sulfur, I choke back the bile rising in my throat. I fight the grasp that has me as the dark army approaches. With each step closer the demons take, I panic.

  Finally escaping the clutches of my hold, I raise my arms to shield myself. Pain explodes over me at the same time that beams of light radiate off me. Everything around me is singed. The howls and shrieks coming from the demons are piercing and I have to cover my ears protectively before falling to my knees from the hurt the high-pitched sounds are causing.

  Just as quickly as it began, everything stops. I lift my gaze to the eerily motionless field. I’m now in the Eternal Forest, in front of the Temple of the Seven High Priestesses. What the hell? Everything in the realm is static. Silent.

  Perched on a marble step of the temple, I see Noir. The black crow caws at me and angles its head from side to side in forewarning. I shake my head, not understanding, while the bird flaps its elegant wings in an irritated manner.

  Still on my knees, my eyes flutter as soft grey snowflakes land on my eyelashes. I lift my head up to the sky to be greeted by millions of the gently falling flakes. In awe, I run my hand over the covered ground, lifting the soft flecks and rubbing them between my fingers. It’s then I realize, it’s not snow descending from the sky.

  It’s ashes.

  When I raise my gaze to the temple again, the crow is gone.

  It its place…Lady Finella.

  “The Heavens weep this day, child of God,” the queen of the fae says sadly.

  I awake startled and gasp in a deep breath attempting to calm my heart rate as I wipe the beads of sweat from my brow. Struggling and feeling woozy, I lay staring at the ceiling and focus on inhaling and exhaling as a peaceful warmth floats over me, helping me to relax.

  After a few moments, I sit up and take in Marcus’s moonlit guest suite. Shaking off the last vision from my nightmare, I can finally breathe.

  I still when I see a dark shadow sitting in a chair near the windows. With great slowness, I lift my hand to the right and flick the bedside table lamp on. Soft illumination fills the room as I dart my focus back to the chair. It’s empty. A loud exhale escapes me. Crap, Eve, now you’re seeing shit. Awesome.

  Freaked out, I pad downstairs to the kitchen for some water. I’m stopped mid-step when I have the feeling of being followed. I whip around incredibly fast only to feel foolish when I see there is nothing there. I release another breath at the ridiculousness of my behavior.

  After entering the kitchen, I snag a bottle of water, downing most of it with the fridge still open. The cool air floating out of the open entry helps soothe my heated skin. I cap the rest and take it back to the guestroom. My heart rate finally reaches a normal level as I enter and shut the door. Exhausted, I drop my forehead to the wood and exhale.

  Abruptly, I’m whipped around and thrown cruelly against the wooden entry. I stand frozen at the swift assault. My lack of action allows two large, warm hands to come around my throat and squeeze with a light pressure. It’s not tight enough to completely cut off my oxygen intake, but the force still causes my eyes to water and the bottle to fall from my grip.

  Finally getting my wits, I move to lift my knee and attack, but stop as two thumbs seductively run up and down my throat, causing desire to float through me. What the hell?

  Without warning, the intruder yanks me forward and then hurls me back into the door again, in a punishing motion. My head produces a loud smack in the process. Does no one hear I’m being assaulted? I squeeze my eyes to clear the fuzziness the whack brought on.

  My hands reach up, grabbing onto the wrists of my attacker. Once they’re wrapped around each one, I still. Oh shit. The feel of leather bands under my fingers has me stunned into submission and the smell of smoky wood and leather floats over me, along with the feeling of coming home. With my eyes shut, my heart stops. I’m afraid if I open them, it won’t be real.

  “Asher?” I force out through the light chokehold.

  My gargoyle protector, and mate, says nothing. I sense his cold hard stare. Despite the intimidation, I can’t control the shiver of need as he leans into my space. God, I’ve missed the feel of him. His smell. His touch. Crap not the time, Eve.

  As if sensing my desire, Asher steps closer, pushing my body further into the door as he places his leg between my knees. I try to curb the want. Clearly, my feelings for him defy logic, or safety for that matter, since he’s currently choking the shit out of me.

  With his breath fanning my face, Asher lowers his mouth, but not to my parted lips. Instead, he brushes them over my cheek before placing them next to my ear.

  “I’m not sure what they taught you in the human school system about sex education, but usually, after sleeping with a guy for the first time, it’s not customary to stab him and then run into the depths of Hell with another man. Image the ego bruise that was to me, siren.” His voice is so guttural that it breaks my heart all over again.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper and squeeze my eyes closed tighter, not expecting that reaction.

  “You’re not forgiven yet,” he growls in my ear and releases his strangle slightly.

  “I understand,” I rasp as a tear rolls down my cheek.

  Asher’s tender thumb brushes away the trail of water. “I’m not here to dry your eyes.”

  I nod my acceptance and allow his anger to roll through me as I stand compliantly.

  “All night, I’ve been struggling with whether to kiss you or strangle you.” He releases a humorless laugh and removes his hands from my throat. Placing one on each side of my body, against the door, caging me in. “Guess we know which action won out,” he continues with anger lining his tone.

  I swallow the dull ache caused by chokehold. Asher’s grip wasn’t enough to really hurt me, but nonetheless, it caught me off guard.

  “I’ve fucking missed you, siren,” he says with a rough tone. “Your unpredictable behavior and apparent newfound bouts of violence need to be managed professionally. I guess we’re heading to couples therapy after all.” His tone is throaty as he speaks.

  I don’t respond. What could I possibly say? Instead, I focus on my lingering discomfort.

  Neither of us moves for the longest time. Asher just stands in front of me, his lips at my ear, breathing heavily. After a while, his chin drops in defeat to the top of my shoulder

  I pinch my face. His close proximity is stirring the longing in me and all I want to do is grab the front of his shirt, twist him, push him up against the door and kiss him senseless.

  “You fucking stabbed me in the heart, siren. Literally and figuratively.” His voice is irate.

  “I’m so—” Asher’s grunt cuts me off.

  “Don’t speak. Just don’t fucking speak right now,” he warns abruptly.

  “Okay,” I exhale as we slip back into silence.

  After what feels like an eternity, his deep voice cuts through the quiet. “You keep apologizing as if it means something. It doesn’t at this moment, so just fucking stop,” he says, lifting his head off my body. “Just stop.”

  I sag at the loss of contact and
then startle when he sharply turns his back to me. My eyes slide open and without warning he reaches back and snatches my hand in his. My body automatically stiffens, not knowing what his intentions are. I’ve never been more terrified and thrilled at the same time. Maybe he’s right? Therapy might be a good idea after all.

  “It’s okay, siren, we’re just going to talk,” he says.

  I allow Asher to lead me to the bed, focusing on the Celtic cross tattoo decorating his right forearm as he turns on the lamp. His eyes shift from the bed to the chair in front of the large windowpanes before he drops my hand as if I’ve burned him.

  Brooding, he saunters over to the oversized chair and sits in the shadows. After a moment, I realize the dark outline earlier was his.

  “You were watching me sleep?” I question and crawl back into bed.

  “Every night for the last month,” he admits, staring out over the city.

  I suck in a harsh breath. “What? Why?”

  “I’m your protector, siren, it’s my job.” His voice is flat.

  “I see,” I reply dejectedly and study him.

  The dusting of facial hair that I love so much darkens his jawline and his dark brown hair looks messily perfect on top of his head. His long dark lashes make fan shadows over his cheeks from the glow of his indigo eyes. The light reflection bounces off the glass panes and ripples through me, setting off our bonding energies. Damn, he’s perfection.

  “Fuck, siren. I wish you’d just been honest with me.” He sits back with a ticking jaw.

  God, why won’t he look at me? “I made a mistake.” My answer is a soft murmur.

  “A mistake?” he repeats in a disgusted tone. “You wrecked me.” His response is rough.

  My heart falls at his admission. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Ash. I wish I could take it back. I panicked. Michael wasn’t moving fast enough. I knew that my mother was in danger. What would you have had me do?” I hate that my voice cracks but it does.

  From his side profile, I see his eyes close. “You can’t take it back, siren.” He sighs. “I should have known you’d do something stupid. Christ, I was inside of you the entire fucking night and had no clue of your intentions,” he mumbles more to himself than me.

  “I didn’t want you to know. I was protecting you the only way I could think,” I argue.

  “Protecting me,” he bites out in an annoyed tone. “No, siren. You didn’t trust me enough to know I would take care of us. What you did wasn’t protection. It was egotistical. You tried to handle me. Control me. That’s not protection or love. It was unwise and foolish.”

  I flinch at the statement. “Ash—”

  “I’m not fucking done. I thought you believed in us. I thought you thought I was good enough, that we finally had faith in one another. I thought you actually fucking saw me,” he spits out. “Instead, you ran to someone else to protect you. You trusted Gage to help you. Is he everything you’ve ever dreamed of, siren?” he whispers nastily.

  I ignore the Gage jab. “I do see you, Asher. I love you,” I declare. “I did it to protect you.”

  “I don’t believe you.” His eyes shift to my fidgeting hands. “I don’t fucking believe you anymore. You think this is easy? Christ, I go against everything I believe in for you, and this is how you fucking show me you love and have faith in me? By betraying me?” he barks.

  “If I’m not forgiven, then why are you here?” I yell in a desperate frustration.

  He stands and stalks at me menacingly. “Because I FUCKING LOVE YOU!”

  The room has become too small and all the air escapes my lungs. I stare at my interlocked fingers and sit back against the pillows to hold myself up with the weight of his statement. Midway to me, he stops and takes on an intimidating stance. I try not to be scared of his intensity, but it’s overwhelming.

  “I CANNOT EXIST WITHOUT YOU!” he shouts before letting out a cold laugh. “I can’t fucking breathe without you. The man I am without you, siren, is not a man I want to be.”

  My breath hitches at his declaration. I stand, careful not to spook him, and take two cautious steps in his direction, gauging his reaction. He doesn’t move. Asher’s body is rigid and his face hard. His eyes hold mine, meeting them for the first time tonight.

  Frozen in place, his face pales and he looks like he’s about to be sick. After a moment of staring at me oddly, his stiff body closes the distance between us in two strides. His expression shifts from one filled with hurt and pain, to one that seems mystified.

  At the change in his demeanor, I realize what he’s seeing for the first time. My eye color didn’t turn until the next morning, after I had left him. He hasn’t seen my new indigo irises yet. With a rough jerk, he grabs my chin and tilts my head back so he can look me directly in the eyes.

  “Fuckkkk,” he draws out in a soft voice staring at my irises that match his, perfectly.

  I let my lids slide shut and inhale a shaky breath.

  “Open your eyes, siren.” At the familiar command, I do. His jaw is ticking at a rapid pace.

  “It’s no big deal. You’ve seen them this color before, Asher. In the Eternal Forest when we stone slept and realm jumped together to see Priestess Arabella,” I whisper.

  Brushing off my reminder, he continues to stare at me. “Take off your shirt and turn around.” The demand is released in a clipped tone as he releases my chin in a harsh manner.

  “Asher,” I implore.

  “DO IT!” he screams, causing me to jump and then become angry.

  Lifting my chin in defiance, I lock eyes with him and pull my tank top over my head, exposing my bare chest. His eyes don’t leave mine though. Slowly, I turn and give him my naked back. With a shaky hand, I drag my long hair over one shoulder to give him the full view. At the movement, I hear his rough intake of breath and freeze.

  In an instant, the heat from his body seeps into my back while his fingers trace his matching mate mark sitting at the bottom of my spine. “Holy Shit. I never had the chance to see it, siren.” The softly spoken statement is lined with adoration. “Fuck, that’s sexy.”

  My eyes close, relishing his touch as the mark pulses in delight. It’s almost as if his touch is awakening my soul. My knees go weak and I sag against him while his fingers continue to follow the pattern. My entire body hums and my soul lights and warms from within.

  “Do you still love me?” he questions in my ear in a kinder voice.

  “Does it matter?”

  “You have my eye color and wear my mate mark. It fucking matters, siren. Do you?”

  “With everything I am,” I vow quietly. “I understand, though, if we’re over.”

  Even without turning to see Asher, I can feel his core shake at my words.

  “We are NOT over. We are not ever over, siren. You are not forgiven yet, but understand this. I’m never going to be fucking over you. You own me now, more so than before.”

  His hand leaves the mark and it throbs violently in protest.

  “If you want me, siren…earn me,” he says in my ear before the heat leaves my back.

  I turn to promise I will, but the room is empty.

  4 Stuck in Reverse

  THE ICE COLD WATER IS A WELCOME SENSATION as it splashes across my scorching face. Since having seen Asher last night, I can’t get my skin to cool down. I’m hot, achy, and irritated. It’s almost like he triggered a fever when he touched the mate mark.

  After applying my vanilla-coconut gloss, I study my reflection in the mirror. I’m still not used to the fact that my eyes are no longer hazel. I’ll admit though, the azure flecks make them sparkle and seem brighter. Oddly, my hair seems glossier too. To add to the weirdness, there’s a constant pink hue spread across my cheeks, probably from my feverish body.

  I’m mumbling to myself about Asher’s visit last night when I head downstairs for breakfast. Just as I take the last step and turn toward the dining area, I walk straight into a rock hard, solid mass and it seems to be chuckling at me.
Two large hands jump out to steady me so I don’t topple over from the force of the collision.

  My eyes lift and encounter a set of words that make my heart soar and fall at the same time. What Kind of Pussy Are You? The question sits on top of a photo of an adorable white, fluffy cat. A ghost of a smile makes its way onto my face. Damn, he’s lovable.

  My gaze continues to move upward until I see a familiar mega-watt toothy smile and a set of warm blue eyes that look so much like Asher’s.

  “Like my apron, cutie?” Callan’s light-hearted voice runs over me.

  Suddenly, my eyes begin to sting at the sight of him. I thought he’d hate me, but the look of adoration he’s giving me, feels like a reprieve.

  “Hi,” I squeak out.

  “Glad your ass is finally up, Eves. I made Banana Fosters French toast.” He wiggles his eyebrows and runs a plate full of breakfast deliciousness under my nose.

  I just stand there in shock, unmoving, like an idiot, with my stomach rumbling in hunger.

  “I can tell my culinary skills have rendered you speechless.” He leans in. “And yes, to answer your inner most dire question, that is pumpkin spice you smell,” Callan teases.

  “You’re here?” I whisper. “And you don’t hate me?”

  Asher’s brother offers me a confused, yet soft expression. “Of course we’re here, cutie. We’re a clan, no matter what. You’re not the first St. Michael member to stab another.”

  I smile, grateful for the sentiment and throw my arms around him, pulling the protector into a half bear hug before he jerks away and gets serious.

  “Just to be on the safe side though, we’ve removed the butter knives from your place setting. For a while, I’m afraid, you’ll be using the back of a spoon to spread your condiments.” He gives me a pointed look.

  My lips morph into a full-blown smile. “Understood.”

  “You never answered my question,” Callan says.

  I knit my brows. The youngest St. Michael points to his apron. “Do you like it?”

  I nod. “It’s purr-fect.”

  My answer sends a wave of laughter through him. “See, Eves, you’re definitely meant to be one of us. You’re a St. Michael through and through, cutie. Take a seat.”