Ascension (Guardians of Ascension #1)(123)
Author: Caris Roane

He wore flight gear ready for the night’s work. He had shared dinner with Alison then shared her body but before he knew it, he was back to his duties as a Warrior of the Blood.

He’d barely touched his Maker’s. All his brothers had gathered around him but no one had asked the question that burned in the air, all but sending smoke rings to the rafters.

Words weren’t sufficient anyway, so he extended his right arm and turned it over so that the bruising on his wrist was visible.

“Holy shit,” Luken murmured.

“So you did it,” Zacharius cried.

Santiago slapped Kerrick on the shoulder. “Fuck.”

“Yeah,” he responded. He nodded. He tried to think what the hell to say to them. Even now, he knew exactly where Alison was … in the kitchen emptying the dishwasher, and … she was singing.

He sighed.

A ripple of tension passed through the men. Bodies shifted, glasses got plunked down on the bar. Sam moved bottles back and forth, refilling as needed. Fire went down throats.

Still, the warriors didn’t move away from him so he knew he needed to say something to relieve the intense curiosity. He opened his mouth to speak, but words failed. He gestured with a palm up and brows raised. He frowned, he grimaced, he shook his head. He felt compelled to tell them something, but what?

Heaven, however, seemed like too small a word. Rapture fell flat. Extraordinary was … well … just ordinary.

Finally, he said the only thing that made any kind of sense or could explain how complete the experience had been for him. “For the first time in about two hundred years, I slept … for eight hours straight.”

Bodies shifted once more, soft curses broke the air, shoulders fell, and breathing recommenced.

“Sleep,” Thorne murmured. “Well, that would be something.”

“No shit,” Medichi echoed.

“Merde,” Jean-Pierre stated succinctly. “I’d kill for so many hours of sleep all at one time.”

* * *

Two mornings later, just after dawn, after Kerrick had been home from a night of battling for a full twenty minutes, Alison reclined in bed, her fingers caught yet again in his hair. He had made passionate love to her and she was beyond satiated. He had not been patient enough to allow for the entire breh-hedden, but she suspected fulfilling the breadth of the ritual would be saved for special occasions or at the very least when time, urgency, or fatigue wasn’t a factor.

She giggled since he kissed her stomach, ribs, and belly while at the same time talking to their daughter.

He looked up at her. “What about Lucy? We could call her Lucy.”

“Why are you thinking about names when she is still just a ball of replicating cells?”

“Because she’s my ball of replicating cells and of course I’m thinking about names.” He kissed her stomach then bit at one of her ribs, which made her squirm and giggle some more. He kept palming her naked br**sts and occasionally shifted position to kiss her deep between her thighs, so she suspected, hoped, he would make love to her again before he fell asleep for the day.

“So what do you think about Lucy?” he pressed again.

Alison smiled. “It’s a thought.” She twisted her fingers a little more through his long warrior hair.

“How can you not like Lucy?”

“Lucy is a perfectly lovely name,” she stated.

“But you aren’t really into it.”

She sighed. For some reason he wanted the matter of his daughter’s name settled right now.

Alison had a different idea entirely, but she felt nervous about bringing it up since she had no idea how he would receive it. She was afraid the name she really wanted for their daughter would open old wounds instead of giving the respect and honor, the legacy, she intended.

He turned back to her stomach and got very close. She thought he meant to kiss her again and prepared to enjoy his lips on her abdomen once more. Instead he addressed the fiery ball of cells.

“Lucy,” he said, deepening his voice in a really wretched imitation of Darth Vader. “I am your father.”

Alison groaned. Her breh was such a ham. A terrible, wonderful, sexy, ascended, vampire ham. Who’d’ve thought?

He kissed her stomach then looked up at her. “So you’re not going for Lucy.”

Since he wouldn’t let the subject go, she said, “Actually, I have another idea.”

He narrowed his eyes. “What’s going on? Your heart rate has increased. Are you worried about telling me?”

She nodded then took the leap. “What if we called our daughter Helena?”

He blinked. His lips parted. “You want our daughter to be named for my second wife?”

She had caused him distress. She could feel it. She reached toward him then cupped his face with both hands. “Let me explain. Helena gave her life to be with you, to ease you. Knowing what you, what all your warrior brothers go through, I’m so grateful to her for being with you those ten years of your life. I would like our daughter to have that kind of heart, that kind of enormous courage.”

He took her hand and kissed her palm, a long lingering kiss. He looked up at her, his emerald eyes shimmering. “You amaze me,” he whispered. So generous traveled from his mind to hers. “Naming our daughter for Helena would honor her, and nothing would please me more. Thank you, Alison. I’m so grateful. So very very grateful.”

Again, he kissed her palm.

She looked down at the warrior head bent over her hand. She loved him with all of her heart, her mind, her soul.

She was his breh.

She would forever be his breh.

* * *

Later, when Kerrick had fallen asleep, Alison left the beautiful warmth of her warrior’s bed, now her bed, picked up her new iPhone, then moved onto the balcony, which overlooked a vast rolling lawn. At the far end, beneath the shade of dozens of trees, enormous mounds of honeysuckle were alive with sparrows flitting everywhere and chattering like mad. Dawn had broken over the Valley of the Sun.

Her heart beat in little irregular bursts as she punched in the number that dialed her sister.

Joy’s melodic voice demanded to know if she was still in Mexico.

Mexico?

Not exactly.

Alison wrapped her arm around her stomach as tears flooded her eyes. She turned slightly to look in the direction of the bed.

Kerrick was on his back, one massive arm, bunched with muscle, thrown over his head, his thick torso bared to the waist. His neck was raw where she had taken him at the vein the day before. She definitely needed more practice but he wasn’t complaining.