Vernal Page 15

  “That’s good to know.”

  “What is?” she exhales on a shaky breath.

  “That you can breathe around me,” I reply. “Since I’m your pretend boyfriend, I feel like it would suck if you died from lack of oxygen while under my protection.”

  Her grin appears. “Well, don’t get used to it.”

  “Being your boyfriend? Or your ability to breathe around me?” My voice is raspy.

  She steps closer. “Either.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it,” I whisper, my eyes trained on her mouth. And as the guarded walls I put up around my heart come tumbling down, I become addicted to her smile.

  In this moment, even gravity can’t pull me back to the ground. I lean in first and she meets me halfway.

  Our lips are a breath away.

  “I was hoping you wouldn’t fall for him,” a deep voice says, and both Serena and I freeze. With a muttered curse, I release her face and step back.

  My heart is in my throat.

  “Pardon?” Serena turns and asks Zander.

  “It makes it much easier on my conscience to steal you away if you aren’t in love with him. Being his—it complicates things between us,” he winks.

  I curb my desire to strangle my brother.

  “It’s probably better for your ego this way,” Serena replies haughtily, and I hide my pride at her sass.

  Zander’s grin grows wider. “I do bruise like a peach.”

  I exhale a harsh breath.

  All of a sudden I’m exhausted.

  “Is Magali okay?” Serena inquires.

  “She is. I left her a little while ago with Ethan and Lucas. They’re going to have her stay over for a few nights. Your dad and uncles are okay too. Rulf took a pretty big machete to the gut. He’s in a stone state sleep, healing. It might be a few days until he’s recovered, so Asher would like you to remain here in the woodland realm until things calm down and Rulf can return to his guard duties. Since my brother is your boyfriend, I’m guessing you’ll be okay with that,” he teases.

  Serena rolls her eyes and pierces me with a hard look.

  “Why do I have such a giant target on my back where the Diablo Fairies are concerned?”

  I tip my head in the direction of my house.

  “I’ll tell you all about it, but not out in the open.”

  She nods her agreement and begins to walk forward, when I feel Zander’s hand grab at my elbow, halting me.

  “What’s up, man?” I ask.

  “Don’t fuck around and get attached to her.” His voice is low. He forgets Serena’s gargoyle ears can still hear him.

  “I appreciate your concern, but I’ve got this,” I reply, and he yanks on my elbow harder, forcing my full attention.

  “I mean it, Tristan. I’m not sure what kind of game you two are playing with one another, but you and she have taken oaths that are larger than both of you,” he reminds, and hands me a duffel bag. “Magali packed a few things she thought Serena would need while she stays here. I added the condoms just in case. You are both adults. My warning was about feelings only. There is no reason not to have fun while waiting for fate to take over,” he adds, his tone lighter.

  “See you at dinner,” I dismiss him, and catch up with her.

  “The woodland realm is beautiful,” she blurts out.

  “Don’t be fooled, darkness lurks,” I warn.

  She points to the bag. “Weapons?”

  “Clothes. Magali packed some stuff for you.”

  I relax with the direction of the conversation. If she’d heard Zander, she isn’t going to bring up what he said. Relief hits me.

  Serena stops walking and lifts her head. “Is this yours?”

  I take in my house and smile. “It is.”

  “It’s beautiful.” Her voice is quiet. “You must hate living at the Academy in that tiny room, when you have all this waiting for you here,” she says in awe.

  I squint at the well-lit, wood, glass, and stone modern cabin. I’d never admit this to Serena, but this place isn’t really home.

  It’s always empty.

  Given the choice, I’d choose the small suite with her.

  We walk up the cobblestone pathway, passing the fire pit and Adirondack chairs on the left. We climb the stone stairs, continue to the deck, and make our way to the front door.

  I push it open and step aside so she can enter. Hesitantly she does, taking everything in with each step.

  “The siding is made from poplar and the trim is made out of black locust log,” I explain, needing noise in the silence.

  The house is meant to impress.

  “It’s amazing,” Serena responds, turning back to the front wall, lined with large windows looking out into the woods.

  I hold my hand out to her without thinking.

  “Want a tour?”

  She stares at my fingers for a moment before placing her soft palm in mine. Automatically, my thumb rubs over her rings before I guide her around, showing her the living room with high wooden ceilings and a floor-to-ceiling fireplace. The cozy couches and leather chairs add comfort.

  ‘This is the kitchen.” I point to the wooden cabinets and countertop with several chairs lining the outside. “Help yourself to anything while you’re here.”

  She runs her hand over the pool table as we pass it, and I take her down the window-lined long hallway to the stairs.

  Serena follows me up the two floors, where I continue to show her the bathrooms and guest rooms, before we stand in front of the master suite.

  I push open the doors and reveal the expansive room lined on one side with open French doors that lead to a stone balcony, which overlooks a large lake.

  Her eyes widen and she releases my hand, walking toward the two chairs and fireplace that face outside.

  “This is . . . beyond breathtaking, Tristan.”

  “Thank you.”

  “It’s like a log-cabin castle,” she continues.

  “Well, I am a prince in the woodland realm,” I joke.

  Serena looks at me. “So you are.”

  I lift my chin to the chairs. “Why don’t you relax a little? I’ll put your bag in the guest room across the hall and then we can talk.”

  She nods her agreement and fatigue falls across her face.

  “Be back,” I mutter, leaving.

  After making sure the guest room is set, I pad down to the kitchen and grab two bottles of water before heading back to the master suite.

  I stop in my tracks when I get to the doors.

  The fire is lit, all the doors are open to the outside and Serena is curled up under a blanket on one of the chairs, staring out over the lake, wearing one of my T-shirts.

  No one except Zander, the housekeeper, and my mother comes into my home. Her presence here is unnerving.

  Sensing me, she turns and offers me a shy smile.

  “Sorry, I just wanted some fresh air. But then I got a little chilly,” she motions to the fireplace and looks down at herself. “I also wanted to get comfortable, so I stole one of your T-shirts. Hope that was okay?”

  “You lit the fireplace on your own?” I question, and place the waters on the table between the two chairs.

  Her brows pinch before she starts laughing. “It wasn’t that hard, Tristan. You just flip the switch on the wall.”

  I raise my eyebrows and give her a confused look.

  “Really?” I question.

  “It’s gas,” she smirks.

  “Oh.” I sit in the empty chair next to her.

  “You’ve never turned it on?” she asks, snatching a water.

  “I can’t say that I have,” I reply.

  “Sad,” she exhales, and rests her head on the back of the chair. “If I lived here, I would have it on every night.”

  My chest tightens at the idea of her living here—forever.

  All of a sudden, this house feels like home.

  Tristan

  EVERY TIME MY CELL GOES OFF, Serena’s focus shif
ts to the lake. Even though the late afternoon breeze is passing through the open doors, the air in the room is emotionally overcharged and stifling.

  She’s nervous. She should be. Hell, I’m nervous.

  I look down at Callan’s text—it’s two words. Two simple words that will change her fate: tell her.

  “It’s okay, Tristan,” her voice is tired—insecure—and I hate it. “I know how this all works. I know my dad gave you permission to explain it to me, so just—,” she exhales. “Why are the Diablo Fairies targeting me? Who are they?”

  The silence that falls around us is deafening. I know I need to speak, but I’m unsure where to begin. I lean back and cross my arms before meeting her squinting gaze.

  “Have you heard the name Asmodeus before?” I begin.

  Serena leans forward, wiggling her brows, and drops her tone seductively. “Do you mean, the demon of lust?”

  “The very one,” I answer. “Though he’s better known throughout the supernatural community as the king of the Nine Hells,” I pause. “He also happens to be the uncle to the sorceress of prosperity, Llughnassad.”

  I watch her closely, waiting for recognition to hit.

  “Nassa? Gage’s Nassa?” her voice trails off.

  I focus back on the lake and inhale, pushing my craving for a cigarette away. I’ve gotten better about not needing them.

  “Nassa’s dad is Mammon. Though she’s turned her back on him in favor of her mother’s sorceress lineage,” I add.

  Serena slumps back into the chair and fiddles with a string on the blanket covering her lap. “What does this have to do with the angry fairy warriors? Or me for that matter?”

  “It’s a little bit of history.” I grant her an amused look.

  Her eyes meet mine teasingly. “Okay, Professor.”

  “Asmodeus once had a mate, one that he loved very much. No one really knew about her,” I continue slowly, so as not overwhelm her with information.

  “Who was she?” Serena inquires.

  I wince.

  “You can’t say.” It wasn’t a question.

  She knows the restriction on information protectors are allowed to impart when on assignment, thank God.

  “His mate betrayed the archangel Michael. When the warrior of Heaven discovered her treachery, his brother, Uriel, ended her life. Asmodeus never recovered from her death. Though he’s promiscuous, he loved her, deeply.”

  A comfortable quiet settles between us before I dare a glance at her. Serena is chewing on her lip in contemplation.

  “Love is unconditional, right? Regardless of her betrayal, it makes sense that her death broke him,” she whispers, holding her heart, as if recalling something painful. “I’m sure her absence has left him outraged.”

  “He’s vowed revenge. At your uncle’s coronation, Michael announced that the Angelic Council had reached a second treaty between the divine and demonic realms, preventing the war your family was meant to fight. Peace was decreed for hundred years if each side kept their word.”

  She bristles. “Why do I get the feeling one side didn’t?”

  I glower. “Asmodeus breached the treaty when he created the Diablo Fairies, or devil fairies. They’re his army, designed for revenge. Kupuva, the leader, is his new mate.”

  “If he’s upset with Michael, why target me?” she asks.

  “Your clan is directly tied to the death of Asmodeus’s executed mate,” I proceed with caution. There’s only so much I’m permitted to share about her clan’s involvement.

  “You’re saying my family is the reason she’s dead?”

  “I’m saying, the gargoyle king is married to the daughter of Heaven. Michael’s daughter. Uriel’s niece. Asher and Eve’s mate bond protects Heaven’s gates,” I explain. “In order for the dark army to attack the gates, and declare war, Asher and Eve must both cease to exist. Asmodeus has vowed to extinguish the gargoyle race, including your aunt and uncle. Once he does, he will grant the dark army access to the divine realm. At which time, he intends to fulfill his revenge against Michael and Uriel.”

  “Even if Asmodeus succeeds, I still exist. If my uncle were to cease to be, I would be the next ruler,” she says.

  I nod. “Asmodeus knows this. It’s why he’s focusing on the only other being in existence who stands in his way. He figures that by targeting you first, he will weaken your clan—hitting them emotionally. An eye for an eye.” I try to sound gentle. “A fragile royal clan allows for an easy race demise. He’s a demon. It’s simply a game of chess to him.”

  I’m impressed with Serena’s calm demeanor.

  “That’s why my family created the Academy? To build an army to battle Asmodeus’s?” she mutters.

  “Michael became aware of the Diablo Fairy army years ago and alerted the London clan. Nassa and Gage have been infiltrating various demon dens, gaining intel. Everyone is working hard to stop this from happening,” I assure her.

  “Why am I attending the Academy then? Doesn’t that make me an easy target?” she inquires.

  “It’s the safest place for you. An entire school made up of the best of the best within the protector race. Ready to give their lives for their future queen if need be,” I retort.

  “Do the students there know?” Her tone concerned.

  “No.”

  Her face falls. “None of them?”

  “Not one. The lecturers and instructors do.”

  “Why did they attack this morning? They’ve never been that bold before, so why today?” Her brows pull together.

  “My guess is that Kupuva became aware that both you and your uncle were in the same place at the same time. It was sloppy. Probably something she did without approval.”

  “They didn’t have weapons, except for machetes.”

  “Diablo Fairies have been created to mirror an ancient tribe of warriors. They’re not like Lucifer’s dark army, who serve the demonic realm. The fairy army was made for one purpose only: to do Asmodeus’s bidding. That means they don’t have the same supernatural gifts most demons do. Each one is born of black magic and can cast away a protector’s powers using dark spells,” I point out. “Don’t be misled just because they don’t use modern weapons—they are still extremely dangerous, Serena.”

  She sucks in a breath. “That’s why you’re so concerned with the protectors’ hand-to-hand skills at the Academy.”

  “Yes.” It’s true. They’ll crush her if she can’t fight.

  I watch her readjust on the chair to face me. “Someone recently told me that, as with most accords, there is a cessation. Isn’t there one in this instance?”

  “Who told you that?” I try to sound calm.

  Her gaze bores into me. “No one of concern to you.”

  My eyes roam over her face, hating that I’m about to lie.

  “No. There is not.”

  Serena

  No. The word rolls around my head like a bullet, cutting through every single hope and dream I’ve ever had. I shift my focus to the water to help ground me, praying that I don’t look like someone just kicked me in the stomach.

  I’m a royal protector.

  That means we take in information in a calm and thoughtful manner. We consider all angles and strategic possibilities and outcomes before showing emotion.

  No outbursts. No freak-outs. It doesn’t accomplish anything. It’s what I’ve been taught from birth.

  A warm hand covers mine. I look up at Tristan. My fate is written all over his face. There’s no way out of this.

  Gently, he closes his hand around my fingers, preventing them from brushing over the stones on my bracelet. He squeezes them, gaining my attention.

  “Hey.”

  I just stare at him. Why can’t he be my saving grace?

  “Serena?” His voice sounds miles away, even though he’s sitting right next to me. Why is that? I must be in shock.

  The darkness behind his eyes calls to me. As the air around me becomes unnaturally still, I feel my spirit break.


  Outside, the gray clouds roll in quickly, lightning illuminating the sky, followed by the rainstorm.

  I know my protector gifts are causing the storm.

  The sound of falling rain should soothe me, but instead I feel nothing at all. Numb. Anesthetized.

  “Get up,” Tristan barks, grabbing my elbow and yanking me in a controlling manner off the chair. He pulls me toward the open doors and out onto the balcony into the storm. For a moment, we just stand there while the heavy rain pounds the forest area around us.

  My eyes are trained on him, and it only takes a second to register that we’re both getting completely soaked. I watch the beads of water drip from his hair, down his cheekbones, and across his lips. My eyes narrow in on the scar on his upper lip. The one that constantly taunts me.

  Tristan cups my chin firmly between his fingers.

  “Look at me,” he demands, using an arrogant voice.

  My eyes blaze with fury at his tone. “I am.”

  He smiles. “There you are. There’s the spark of life.”

  His fingers on my face relax my core, bringing me back to myself. I try to pull away, but he wraps his free arm around my waist and wrenches my body against his, locking me to him. Tristan’s lips graze my ear as he speaks through the thunder. “Trust me. To protect you. To protect us.”

  I stiffen and try to push away, but he holds me tighter.

  His lips brush across my neck in the barest of touches before he pulls back and cups my face with shaky hands.

  Only a sliver of air exists between our lips as his hooded gaze meets mine. He brushes a thumb over the pulse at the base of my neck, as if he’s trying to push life into it to keep my heart beating.

  I tremble beneath his touch.

  “I’ve got you. You. Are. Safe.” He doesn’t release me. He simply waits until I get myself under control and give in.

  “I believe you,” I concede breathlessly.

  We stand there, trapped by the magnetic pull between us.

  The smell of wet earth lines the warm spring breeze, as we regard one another, each waiting for the other to move. To breathe.

  A small bead of water collects on my bottom lip and before I can wipe it away, Tristan moves my face closer to his, bends down, and leans in.