Vernal Page 13

  Serena and Magali share a glance. I guess they’re used to his erratic behavior.

  “Aveda Men, the grooming clay. It’s also the reason for the extra shine,” Zander offers with a relaxed smile.

  Callan nods. “I love the glossed look.”

  “DAD!” Serena pleads.

  “What? He has great hair,” Callan reasons with a smirk.

  Ignoring the ruckus, I turn my attention to Callan’s shirt. It reads: I’m a dad. Mess with me and I’ll lick your face.

  My brows pinch.

  Callan notices the movement, and offers me a smirk.

  “Licking is germy and gross. It’s also unexpected,” he says. “The element of surprise is a protector’s best defense.”

  “O-Okay,” I reply, unconvinced.

  Serena looks between us nervously, her fingers toying with her bracelet again. “Tristan, this is my dad and my uncles,” her voice is small, unsure. It’s not like her. “Everyone, this is Tristan Gallagher—my . . . boyfriend.”

  Everything around me becomes still, as each one of my muscles tenses at her announcement.

  I steal a quick glance at Zander, whose face is draining of all color, before I meet Serena’s twinkling gaze.

  What the fuck is she doing?

  A slow burn makes its way into my chest. I’ve always been attracted to danger. Serena, though, is an entirely different kind of dangerous, because without her knowing it, what she just declared damned us both to hell.

  I chance a look at Callan. He’s speechless and pissed.

  Again, that makes two of us.

  “What?” I croak.

  Serena takes a step toward me and I jerk back, crossing my arms. Now I’m giving her my own ticked-off look.

  What is she up to?

  A bright smile plays across her face, as if I’ve challenged her. Never in my life has someone dared to turn the odds against me. Until now. All of a sudden, my heart belongs completely to a girl with sapphire eyes and auburn hair.

  “Trist,” she coos, and I narrow my eyes at her use of the nickname. “I know you want to keep it a secret, but my family will understand. I swear,” her voice is sickly sweet.

  “Serena—” She stops me, placing her hand on my arm.

  Her touch twists me. I feel the turn deep in my gut, like a slow, painful knife wound ready to bleed out. Hell, I feel it in my chest as my heart pounds in an out-of-control rhythm.

  “The. Fuck?” I hear Asher roar.

  Exactly my point. Well said.

  In an instant he’s advancing on me, and Zander is on his feet and in between us, protecting both Serena and me.

  “Hold up, Your Highness. I’m sure this is just a simple misunderstanding,” my best friend says.

  “Serena, a moment,” I snap, grabbing her by the elbow and dragging her aside in the most platonic way known to civilization. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Telling Dad about us,” she beams.

  “There is no us!” I all but yell at her.

  She arches a brow. “That’s not what you said last night.”

  I blink a few times, then squeeze my eyes shut.

  The growl that escapes from Callan is low and deep. I’m certain it could be heard across all the realms in existence.

  “Stop this!” I demand, reopening my lids.

  “Stop what, schmoopie?” she smirks wickedly.

  “I’m not your boyfriend.” My tone is unkind.

  “You and I are meant to be together. Suck it up.”

  Asher and Keegan share an irate look, and Callan shifts on his feet while patting himself down dramatically.

  “What are you doing, Callan?” Keegan asks.

  “Looking for my weapons. That way I can kill him,” he answers, pointing at me in a strangely calm manner. “At the same time, I don’t really want to get blood on my new shirt. Abs hates doing laundry. I guess I could just kick his ass.”

  “Serena, I think you should stop, yeah?” Asher suggests. “You’re making your father crazy. More so than usual.”

  Serena whips around and faces her uncle. “I would have thought that you most of all would recognize true love when you see it. I’m disappointed in you, Uncle Asher.”

  Asher mopes in almost a pout, wounded by her words.

  Callan’s expression turns perplexed as he studies his daughter’s face. “Do you have Stockholm syndrome?”

  She sighs. “Dad, Tristan would have to be my captor.”

  “Are you saying the words coming out of your mouth are of your own accord?” Callan frowns. “You’re not being coerced in some weird form or another? Enthralled?”

  “Nope. I have freely given my heart to him.”

  “Fuck it! I can do my own laundry,” Callan states, and Keegan quickly grabs his upper arms, holding him back.

  “Serena, this behavior is . . . sudden,” Asher scolds.

  “Dude, let me take care of this,” Callan implores.

  “Why you?” Asher shoots back, annoyed.

  “I’m her Dad.” He points to his shirt. “It’s my job.”

  Asher snorts. “I’m the king. My word can be final without her rolling her eyes at me. Or getting whiny.”

  “Now you want to be the king?” Keegan mocks.

  Asher throws a hard glare his way.

  “Callan’s a wimp when it comes to the pouty face she always makes,” Asher continues. “One tear and she’s at an all-you-can-eat candy buffet. Then puking all night.”

  “That’s true,” Keegan agrees.

  Callan grimaces. “Dude, one time—when she was two.”

  Magali steps between us, facing Serena, her hands flying quickly through the air as she signs with annoyance.

  “What are you doing, Ser?”

  “I chose him,” Serena’s voice is void of emotion.

  Believable? No.

  Totally convincing? No.

  I’m going to kill her.

  I rub my hands over my face with Serena watching.

  Magali picks up on her lie and shakes her head no.

  Letting her friend see that that she knows better.

  “You can’t help whom you fall in love with.” Her mouth keeps moving but the words coming out aren’t registering as making sense. “Or so I’ve been told, recently.”

  Callan stands frozen, speechless.

  Asher approaches Serena’s back and Magali moves to her friend’s side so her uncle can get closer to her.

  Serena’s eyes follow my uneasy movements as I brace myself, preparing for what I know he’s about to tell her.

  “Tristan is your protector,” Asher states in a firm tone.

  Blood in my ears is the only sound I hear as I watch Serena’s playful expression become crestfallen, almost broken.

  “My what?” Her whisper is far too loud in the silence.

  “I assigned him to watch over you while you finish your time here at the Academy. With Callan and Abby’s approval,” he continues. “He’s here for your protection, meaning he’s under oath and blood bonded to you.”

  Serena’s features become unreadable. But I know that the hurt and betrayal is only hidden behind her eyes as she studies me.

  “Is that true?” She directs the question to me.

  The despair lining her voice startles me, and I flinch before wiping my forehead with the back of my hand.

  I need a solid minute—or ten—in order to answer her, because the devastation bleeding out of her gaze is starting to become my undoing.

  My nostrils flare as I take a few deep breaths.

  “Yes,” I answer in a clipped tone.

  Her gaze is furious and wild, as an awkward beat passes between us. Then, without warning, she schools her features, placing her mask back on as she stands straighter.

  “Good. That’s good. We’re already bonded then.” The sound of fake happiness cuts me deeper than even I knew was possible. “It means that we are meant to be after all.”

  “Serena—,” I attempt but she turns a
way.

  “Suck it up, Tristan. Mags and I have class,” she lies.

  My jaw clenches.

  She’s running.

  “Rulf will go with you two,” Asher states firmly.

  “Fine.” She grabs Magali and storms out of the suite without another word or backwards glance.

  Fantastic.

  Once they’re gone, Callan comes toward me.

  I lift my palms, surrendering. “Let me be clear, Callan, what Serena said is not true. I’m unsure of her motives, but she’s goading you and using me to do so.”

  “Which part is untrue? That she loves you, or that you are meant to be?” Callan counters, with a clenched jaw.

  “I’m not her boyfriend,” I state, which just pisses him off even more for whatever reason.

  He growls and steps into my space before taking in a deep breath. “Then why do I smell my daughter on you?”

  Ah, fuck.

  I slept with her last night.

  I lift my chin.

  “You injected him with her blood for the protector bond.” Zander answers in a calm tone, stepping between us.

  “Some protectors would take advantage of the situation. Are you one of those assholes, Tristan?” Asher asks.

  Yes. “No,” I bite out.

  A ghost of a smile crosses Asher’s face as he studies me.

  It’s like he knows—understands, sees past my armor.

  “Let’s all take a breath and discuss why we’re really here,” Keegan steps in, trying to defuse the situation.

  “You mean this isn’t a social call?” I snort.

  “The Diablo Fairies have been making some bold choices lately. We believe they’re getting ready to attack,” Asher explains, and stretches his neck from side to side.

  “As Michael predicted,” Keegan says slowly.

  The Michael he’s referencing is the archangel Michael, warrior of Heaven and Serena’s aunt Eve’s father. Years ago he made a deal with Heaven and Hell in order to protect Eve, one that unknowingly placed Serena in danger now.

  My heart stops and my fists clench at the thought of Serena being hurt. Why do I care so much?

  Callan senses my rage and his expression hardens.

  “We’re assuming you’re prepared?” Keegan asks.

  “And focused on her protection?” Callan adds, harshly.

  I suck my bottom lip into my mouth a few times trying to curb my desire to kill her father for his rudeness. I, too, happen to be royalty, and the way he’s speaking to me would get him killed in my realm. Protector or not.

  “Isn’t that why you chose me? Let’s be honest here, it had nothing to do with Gage’s request to spare me, and everything to do with the cessation,” I state.

  Callan steps into my space. “Just protect her, Tristan.”

  I square my shoulders. “On my honor and with my last breath, if necessary,” I vow truthfully.

  Serena

  A faint throbbing makes its presence known in my heart. It’s the barest of aches, but somehow it hurts as if I’ve been stabbed in the heart. I stumble and falter in my steps.

  Magali grabs me by the shoulder, yanking me around. “Serena, stop!” she demands. “Or I will restrain you.”

  I shrug out of her grip, watching her as I back up. “No.”

  As soon as I turn around, my face is pushed against a rock wall that protects the coastline from the harsh Atlantic sea water below, churning in angry motions.

  “It wasn’t an empty threat,” she manages to croak out. Her voice is a choppy, barely there whisper from non-use.

  Any other time, I would have admired Mags for her quick moves, but right now, it just pisses me off even more. I keep still until she loosens her grip, and then spin out of her grasp, kicking her in the stomach.

  She gasps, and her fingers fly angrily. “Wanna fight?”

  My shoulders sag. “No! Of course not. I’m sorry.”

  Taking two deep breaths, Mags straightens before lifting her fingers to sign. “What is going on, Serena?”

  I pinch my expression. “I don’t know.”

  “What do you mean, you don’t know? You just announced that Tristan was your boyfriend and then completely freaked out when you found out he is your secondary protection,” she reminds me.

  I exhale and jerk back. “I know!” I shout.

  Magali just waits for me to pull myself together.

  “I’m sorry for yelling. I just . . . can’t explain it.”

  “Try me,” she counters.

  “He’s Ophelia’s son,” I start. “A nymph prince.”

  “So is Zander. Big deal.”

  “He’s my protector, Mags. Unlike Rulf, they’ve injected him with my blood. Without me knowing. It’s kind of a bit of a personal violation. Don’t you think?” I rant.

  She pauses and takes a step in my direction. “It’s how our world works. You know this. So, stop lying and tell me why you’re really upset. It’s not that he’s a satyr prince, or that he’s your protector, Serena. Why are you really hurt?”

  My eyes lock onto her soft gaze. “It’s—”

  “SERENA!” Rulf shouts, and my head turns to him.

  Within seconds, I’m pushed onto my back, with Magali covering my body. She reaches for the knife in her boot, and offers me a pleading look to stay put as she pushes up and turns. I watch her pinch the weapon, ready to release it.

  Immediately, I stand and face a tribe of warriors approaching us. There must be hundreds of them watching us with a fierce display of pride, strength, and unity.

  Magali shoots me an angry look for being upright and not listening to her, before she turns back to face the army.

  As the warriors approach they violently stomp their feet with their tongues protruding. While performing a rhythmic body slapping, they chant in a loud battle cry, charging at us.

  Each movement is a terrifying challenge.

  In an instant, Rulf steps in front of Mags and me.

  “What are they?” I exhale.

  “Diablo Fairies,” he answers in a hard tone.

  My focus remains on the woman leading the well-choreographed dance. Her skin is a dark chocolate color, with white paint drawn in tribal patterns all over her muscular, unclothed legs, stomach, and arms.

  Her exposed feet are adorned with gold gladiator sandals. Leather straps snake up her calves with rubies studding the fronts, all along the middle of the crossed bands.

  Gold jewelry adorns her upper thighs and arms, and a skull with three white feathers hangs from her waist, scarcely covering the lower part of her body.

  A small red cloth conceals her breasts from sight, held up with a turquoise and gold necklace that looks more like a piece of armor. Another skull decorates the front of the heavy necklace. Bronze rings crawl up her neck, and large hoop earrings fall from her ears.

  She’s wearing a wooden warrior mask, with a deep pink diamond gem set in the forehead and matching gems in the eye area. Four horns protrude out of the top and sides, and it’s decorated with more white feathers.

  The sudden appearance of Tristan, Zander, my father, and my uncles shifts my focus from the army to them.

  “Kupuva!” Tristan barks out.

  “What?” I ask, as he steps to my side.

  “Kupuva, she’s their leader.” Rulf motions to the dark-skinned woman, shaking a wooden staff—with another skull sitting at the top of it—at me violently. This skull has two horns that match her mask and red feathers hanging where its neck should be.

  “We’ll hold them. Tristan, take Serena to your realm,” Uncle Keegan commands. “We need asylum for her.”

  “Not a chance.” I prepare to fight off the army.

  “You don’t have a choice,” my dad informs me.

  “I’m a protector. I fight,” I argue.

  “Serena, don’t squabble,” Rulf interjects.

  “I’m not leaving Magali here,” I fight back.

  “I’ll protect her.” Zander promises.

 
; Uncle Asher steps in front of me. “We don’t have time for you to argue with us, Serena. Tristan’s realm will offer you safe haven. As your king—” he swallows, the pain of what he’s about to say causing a dark shadow to cross his expression. “As your king, I order you to go with your protector without another word.”

  I jerk back as if slapped.

  It’s rare Uncle Asher uses his royal status on another clan member. Especially me.

  If my aunt Eve were here, she’d kick the crap out of him.

  Tristan steps in front of me with an apologetic look on his face. His hands grip my upper arms, pulling me to him.

  Leaning in, his lips brush my ear.

  “Sorry, raindrop.”

  Serena

  WITHIN SECONDS, TRISTAN AND I DISAPPEAR. A few moments later, my eyes open and I’m fighting for balance on the hard ground. Red deer scatter around us at our sudden appearance.

  The sound of their hooves breaks through the quiet of the wooded area we’ve teleported into. Once I’m steady, I push Tristan away and step back, taking in where we are.

  “You teleport?” I snap.

  “A protector gift,” Tristan explains in a calm way.

  “Where are we?” My angry voice screeches.

  “The base of Torc Mountain,” he replies.

  “In the Killarney National Park?” I pose, hoping we’re still in County Kerry, Ireland, so I can go back.

  “Yes. But don’t even think about it,” he says.

  “They’re in danger, Tristan. We can’t just leave them. What if they get hurt, or worse?” I swallow the worry.

  “They’re skilled warriors, Serena. There is no need to be concerned for your family’s safety,” he replies. “Or Magali’s.”

  I pause to get my bearings.

  “Why am I the one that needed to be shoved aside?”

  “Your king gave the order,” is all he says.

  “How did you know I was in danger?”

  His face is rigid.

  “The bond,” he answers, gripping my elbow and pulling me forward. “For safety reasons, we need to keep moving.”

  I try to squirm out of his grip, but he’s too strong.

  Instead, I focus on not stumbling as he drags me through the forest, moving uphill at a quick pace.

  “Why did you listen to my uncle Asher?”

  “Because, believe it or not, I respect royal decrees.”