Veiled Guardian: A Borne of Angels Novel (The Awakening Book 1)

by Leigha Wolffe

  2

  Alex

  Ileaned my forehead against the door for just a second, steadying myself. When I finally stood and turned around, I almost screamed. The man inside… Let me rephrase. The naked man inside was most decidedly not Andrew.

  What he was, was beautiful. Tall and muscular, with golden skin, golden eyes, and short golden curls, he could've been a rendering of a Greek god. His face was so beautiful it was hard to look at, not made any easier by the fact that every inch of his quite impressive anatomy was on display—and standing at full attention. I only realized I was staring when he smirked at my appraisal and cleared his throat. I had to force my eyes back to his face and immediately regretted it. Oh, no.

  It was the stranger from the bridge. Of course it was the stranger from the bridge. This was my life. There was literally no other way this could’ve possibly gone. The only person in the world privy to the conversation Jade and I were having on our way in was standing in Andrew’s dressing room! Oh, God, why do you hate me? Then the beautiful stranger cleared his throat again, and I realized I was still staring.

  “Oh, God,” I squeaked and spun around to face the door, my flaming cheeks betraying my utter humiliation to the world… or just the door and the golden boy, either way. “Oh... oh my god, I'm... I am so sorry”, I managed to stammer out, covering my eyes with my hands and shaking my head. From somewhere behind me, the beautiful stranger snickered at my obvious embarrassment. Asshole.

  “Covering your eyes might be kind of superfluous, now that you're facing the door, don't you think?”

  Logically, I knew he was right, but in my panicked state I was operating on toddler logic. If I couldn’t see him, and he couldn’t see my face, maybe I'd just disappear altogether. Okay, panicky girl logic, even toddlers were smarter than that.

  “I'm so sorry! I thought... I mean... Ugh! I was just looking for Andrew, and I thought I saw all the attendants leave…”

  “Ah... So, you were hoping to catch the groom with his pants down, and I was just an innocent bystander. Lucky me,” he drawled.

  Oh God… Even rolling my eyes in annoyance couldn’t prevent the blush that crept into my cheeks.

  “Besides,” he continued, "I passed you on my way in here. I know you saw me come in with my tux."

  "Excuse me?"

  "Oh, come on, don't play coy. You saw me come in. There's no way you thought I was dressed already..."

  Great... I didn't just walk in on a naked guy, I walked in on a naked Asshole.

  Wait... Ew… Rephrase.

  I whirled around to face him, no longer caring if he was clothed or not, and realized too late that he’d won. He’d provoked me into doing exactly what he wanted, but I was too angry to care. I took in another eyeful and thanked my lucky stars he was now semi-clothed in a white undershirt and purple boxer briefs which left absolutely nothing to the imagination. Why it matters that they were purple, I do not know, but it definitely does. And speaking of imagination, I was one-hundred percent certain he’d noticed my roving eyes, so knowing he would take pleasure in my discomfort, I met his gaze unapologetically.

  "Listen, Jackass! I did see you walk in, but when I saw all four of his attendants walk out, I just assumed whoever it was had gotten dressed really quickly. Even if I hadn’t, there was no way for me to know you’d be in here completely naked! And why were you naked?!”

  “I had to change into my tux,” he said simply, like that explained everything.

  “And your underwear?” I asked, gesturing at the boxer briefs, then inevitably blushing even brighter.

  “I don’t wear underwear.” His smirk grew exponentially at that little divulsion.

  “And what exactly do you call those?”

  He looked down at the purple boxer briefs in question, looked at the tux draped over the chair beside him, then he looked back at me and grimaced. “Rented tux.”

  “Okay, fair point. Now, who the hell are you, because I’ve met all Drew’s attendants, and you’re not one of them.”

  The grin that parted his lips then could only be characterized by that old idiom my mom always used— ‘like the cat that ate the canary.’ It was this look that said he knew something I didn't know and relished every taste.

  “Well, your math is off. Andrew has five attendants, not four,” he pointed out as he pulled on his tuxedo shirt.

  This guy was seriously pissing me off. “I said four other,” Asshat, I added silently.

  “Oh, I heard you. And that means you must be Alexis,” he crooned as he began fingering each button into its corresponding buttonhole and stepped closer to me. “I must admit, I’ve been dying to meet you face to face: the girl that stole my brother's heart right out from under our father's watchful eye.” He was maintaining eye contact but took another step toward me. It was almost like he didn’t think I’d notice, and I wondered exactly what kind of game he was playing.

  “Brother? Wait… Ash?”

  “The one and only.”

  “I thought you couldn't make it.”

  “Yeah, well, I made it.” He quickly pulled on his trousers then held out his hand. “So, I guess your services are no longer required?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You were standing in for me, Princess, and I'm here, so...” He stood there, waiting for a response, but I just stared at him for a long moment. Andrew's elusive brother, Ash. I'd never met him, but I'd heard... things.

  “Are you planning to shake my hand? Cuz this is getting a little awkward.” His words shook me out of my reverie and snapped my attention back to the man in front of me.

  “It’s Alex, not Alexis. I've heard a lot about you,” I said, finally shaking his outstretched hand.

  He cocked one eyebrow. “Oh, really?”

  “No, not really. Very little, actually. Now that I've met you, I kinda see why.”

  Both eyebrows shot up and that Cheshire cat grin spread across his face, again. It didn't detract from his features in any way. If anything, the more douchey his facial expressions were, the hotter he looked. Ugh... Gross! I need therapy! Stop thinking about Andrew’s asshole brother as hot. He’s an asshat. End of discussion!

  As I internally chastised myself for my horrifying taste in men, a door I hadn't noticed in the back corner of the room swung wide, and the butterflies in my stomach went double crazy as in strode my Andrew with his usual confident, easy gait. Well, not my Andrew. He was fully dressed in his black tux that hugged every hard plain of his body. His face lit up at the sight of me, then darkened as he took in the scene before him.

  It didn’t look good.

  His brother’s pants were still undone, my face was flushed—from anger... definitely from anger—and he was standing way too close to me. When had he gotten so close?

  Andrew wasn’t particularly fond of his brother, and the look on his face thrilled a part of me. The dark part I never let out of its cage reveled in his anger, his jealousy. That darker self considered taking one step closer to Ash, just close enough that our bodies brushed. His masculine scent would wash over me, and Drew would have to watch as my eyes dilated, my lips parted, my breath quickened. Drew would have to bear witness to every physical sign of my attraction. Perhaps, see something in me he hadn’t seen before.

  But that wasn’t me. Was it?

  No. I loved Andrew and I respected myself. I’d never sink to the level of trying to manipulate him to make him love me, and I wouldn't hurt him unnecessarily.

  Ash, on the other hand, had no such qualms. He smirked over his shoulder at Andrew then brought the hand he was still holding—why was he still holding my hand—tenderly to his lips, kissing my knuckles but not releasing my hand. He met my eyes and took a step closer to me.

  “Ash,” I heard Andrew warn, but Ash just took another step, his chest brushing up against me. “Ash, stop,” Andrew growled, but he didn't.

  He continued to hold my stare as he leaned toward me until he was close enough for me to feel the warmth of his breat
h on my neck, and then he whispered in my ear, “When this is all over, I'll be happy to console you.”

  I pulled back just far enough to meet his eyes and whispered against his lips, “I don't kiss assholes. Unhygienic. Now, kindly let go of my hand and get out of my face, you creepy mother-fucker.”

  Ash pulled back looking a bit more confused than the situation called for, but the explosive laughter from the back of the room broke the tension and distracted me from overanalyzing. Ash stepped back, shaking his head and releasing my hand as requested, then settled yet another douche-tastic expression over his features. I mean, I'd heard of resting bitch face, but this guy had resting douche face if I'd ever seen it.

  “Whatever. I'll leave you two love birds to chat. It seems you have a few things to discuss. Now that I'm here, that is.” With a pointed look at Andrew, Ash turned on his heel and sauntered—that was the only word for it—through the doorway from which Andrew had appeared, slamming the door behind him.

  I looked at Andrew, meeting his gaze with wide eyes, and then we both cracked up laughing.

  “Oh my God! What is wrong with your brother,” I asked.

  “I think you broke him,” Andrew chuckled. “He’s always had a magical way with the ladies. I’m not sure he's ever been rejected by a woman before.” Andrew snickered, jogging over and sweeping me up into a bone crushing hug.

  “Andrew... need... air...”

  He laughed but lowered me gently back to the floor, pulling back enough to look at me without releasing me.

  “Hey, sweetheart. How was your trip?” he asked, a mischievous twinkle appearing in his eyes. He knew how I felt about planes. I wasn't entirely convinced that wasn't the reason for this destination wedding.

  “Oh, well... if by trip you mean the flying death machine that I had to ride in to get here, you know... It was fine,” I said sarcastically, and Andrew just chuckled. “How are you doing with this whole... you know”—I waved my hands around awkwardly—“wedding thing?”

  Drew smiled and nodded weakly, but his gaze grew a little distant. “It's just all happening so fast, you know,” he whispered.

  “Hey, it’s okay to be scared,” I reassured him. “This would be a lot for anyone.”

  I’d thought he was pranking me when he first told me his father was arranging his marriage. Right up until last winter, when he told me his father had found a suitable match for him and she was being sent to stay with his family for the spring semester as a trial to see how they got on. I don’t think I really believed it, even then, not until the moment Andrew introduced us.

  The moment I’d met Claire was the moment everything had changed. Because, in that moment, I had realized he would no longer be my Andrew; He would be hers. Claire’s. It had all become real when she had become real. She spent all her time with us while she was visiting. She was demure and passive where Andrew liked a challenge, but she was also sweet, polite, kind, beautiful, and didn't have a deceptive bone in her body.

  I hated her. Why couldn't she have done the decent thing and just been an evil troll? It really would've been the polite thing to do.

  Drew hugged me against him, and I laid my head against his chest, like we'd done a thousand times before. Right then I knew I should walk away, but I stayed. Shit... Jade's right. I must be a masochist.

  “You know,” he began, shrugging half-heartedly. “It is what it is. I always knew this would be my life. Even as a child, I knew my father would never hand the reins over to Ash, and he doesn’t want it anyway. And Claire, she's... She'll make a strong partner.” His voice turned to a hard whisper as he continued, “I guess everyone dreams their life will turn out differently than it actually does.”

  Something in his voice made me look up, and when my hazel eyes met his icy-ocean blue ones, I shuddered. What awaited me there were things he'd never let me see before. Hidden things. Disappointment, desperation, despair... desire? He leaned his forehead against mine, and I felt my breath catch. This was going to be a lot harder than I’d thought.

  “So, speaking of your brother... He's here. I thought he couldn't make it,” I whispered, but instead of the grounding focal point I'd intended it to be, my voice came out husky and low.

  “Yeah. That's Ash. Can't even rely on him to be unreliable,” he spat, his voice darkening as he continued. “Dear old Dad thought it was too risky for you to be my Best Person, so he made Ash an offer he couldn't refuse, and here he is.”

  My eyebrows pulled together. “Risky?”

  “Yeah…”

  “Risky how?” Andrew still looked distracted, and the expression on his face was dark. I didn’t want our last interaction alone to be like this, so I tried to lighten the mood. “What? Is he afraid I’m going to spirit you over the border and disappear into the night with his heir?” I laughed at the thought, but Andrew didn’t.

  “Yeah, something like that…”

  “Hey, you okay?”

  When he didn’t respond immediately, I pulled back and searched his eyes for an answer, but all I saw was immense pain wrapped in confusion, fear, rage and... desire, again? Was he thinking about Claire or me? I’d almost convinced myself a few times that I’d seen something like that in his eyes when he looked at me, but it was there one minute and gone the next, so I just chalked it up to weird guy behavior or hormones. If he’d really wanted me, he’d had every opportunity. I needed to let go. Let him go.

  “Listen, I know you’ve got a lot on your plate today. Maybe I should just go. We can talk later.”

  “Yeah, later.” Andrew muttered as he released me. “Except... Except there won’t be any later, will there? Am I even going to see you again?” His voice was hard, but he looked like he was seconds away from tears.

  I’d never been able to flat out lie to Andrew. Hell, if he’d ever asked me point blank whether I was in love with him, we might not be here. I wanted to console him, tell him everything would be fine, we’d have Thanksgiving dinner together in a couple months just like we had every year for almost two decades. But I couldn’t lie to him, so when my mouth opened, nothing came out.

  “Fuck, Alex,” he whispered as he ran his fingers through his perfectly coiffed hair. He started pacing the floor in front of me, ranting to himself, mostly.

  “I can’t do this. I can’t,” he whispered.

  “Can’t what, Andrew?” He looked so defeated I just wanted to hug him, but he was so distant that I was starting to feel like an interloper on a private conversation he was having with himself.

  I was just about to speak again when he whispered, almost inaudibly, “I can’t walk through the rest of my life knowing the woman I love thinks she didn’t matter. That I didn't choose her. I just… can't.”

  The woman he loved? But…

  It all snapped into place, so suddenly it almost knocked me on my ass, and I couldn't breathe.

  “Drew?”

  He stiffened. His back was to me and I could see he was shaking. I hadn’t used that lifelong nickname since the day I met his fiancé. At least not aloud. I tried to keep it out of my thoughts but failed more often than I’d like to admit. When speaking to him, it had just seemed easier to distance myself using his full name, less intimate, and it hurt like a son-of-a-bitch now. But if I understood him correctly, that intimacy might be the only thing that could bridge the gaping hole between us. The one our love and friendship used to inhabit.

  “Drew, please...”

  “Don’t,” he whispered, harshly.

  Then it was my turn to freeze, my hand hovering mere inches from his shoulder, and freeze I did. I didn’t even breathe.

  “Don’t call me that. Not now. It’s not fair. One of many, many things on the list of things in my life that aren’t fair.”

  I steeled myself for whatever might be coming—because at this moment, I had no idea what that might be—and exhaled the breath I’d been holding. “Drew, please look at me. I’m trying to keep it together, but I need to verify that I just heard what I think I h
eard and that I have not, in fact, finally cracked and am not, now, having a beautiful hallucination...”

  He turned on me then, eyes full of fear and tears. For the life of me, I couldn't remember having ever seen him cry, so I asked the question that was now burning a hole in my brain. “What are you saying, Drew?”

  “You really have no idea, do you?” he asked, staring at me with wide, wild eyes. “I love you, Alex. I’ve loved you my whole life. I knew I could never have you, but that never stopped me from loving you. I can’t function another day with the burden of you not knowing how much you mean to me.”

  Those words preceded his kiss by mere fractions of a second. Before I even saw him move, he was on me. His lips hot on mine, demanding, claiming me for their own, his hands gripping my shoulders so hard it almost hurt. I didn’t even realize we were still moving until my back hit the wall. Hard. It took a moment for my brain to catch up with this turn of events. There’d been a huge misunderstanding, but I understood now. He loved me. He wanted me.

  Once my brain was on board, my body kicked into gear and I responded to him. Wrapping my arms around his neck, burying my fingers in his rich, brown locks and gasping his name. He pulled back for a second, seemingly in shock, but he seemed to be searching my eyes for something. Permission? No, surely he knew he had that now?

  Then the answer hit me—not permission but admission. He knew how I felt. He had for a long time, though it had never been a source of tension. I accepted he didn’t feel the same and we would always be friends, but this was different. There was knowing, and then there was knowing. And now, he wanted to hear it from my lips, to truly know that I was his.

  “I love you, Drew,” I whispered, and for a moment, I thought I broke him. His body was shaking, and tears were streaming down his face. He tangled both hands in my hair and kissed me so gently and delicately it broke my heart. I felt like the greatest treasure in all the world. Then he pulled back to look into my eyes as he whispered, “I love you, Alex.”