Burning Skies (Guardians of Ascension #2)(88)
Author: Caris Roane

Endelle had laughed so hard she’d started to cry. And so his rant had continued in its completely irrational way until Her Supremeness, eyes streaming, had actually fallen on her ass in front of the fireplace, exclaiming that she’d just peed her skunk skirt and would he please get the hell out of her office.

So here he was, rattled as f**king hell. The worst possible thing had befallen him in having been assigned to guard Parisa Lovejoy until she completed her rite of ascension, which, if he understood, still hadn’t started, which meant that he couldn’t even say he had to do this for only three more days.

So … shit.

He stood at the threshold of the library and there she was, so beautiful sitting in her cloud of tangerine, curled up in a chair near the south wall. His heart f**king hurt just looking at her. She wore a silk tank top, turquoise this time, and jeans, clothes she had borrowed from Havily. He wondered if he should make an attempt to get into her house just to bring her something to wear. Well, there was plenty of time to sort that out. Better she was safe first.

He called to her softly, not wanting to startle her. “Parisa?”

She had a book open on her lap and looked up at him. She smiled and said, “Did you know that Luchianne ascended all by herself, that somehow she passed through the Trough on her own power, and that she never felt the smallest effects of the second dimension? She’s really amazing.”

“And you share that quality with her since you’re not feeling the effects of this dimension, either.” Just looking at her, he felt as he did when his wings needed to release: on edge, hungry, his body humming with energy.

She nodded. “Yes, that much is true,” she said. There was something reflective in her expression, as though she was weighing his words and her thoughts. “I know that part of my experience is similar to hers, but I don’t think I could have handled what she went through, always being the first to do these incredible feats. I’m just getting to the part where she discovered the existence of and fought the first death vampire. I feel so … inadequate next to her. I could never wield a sword.”

He glanced at the book. It was the one he’d recommended to her, a large tome filled mostly with anecdotes of the history of Second Society. Kerrick had once hunted through the same book looking for references to the breh-hedden in his hopes of finding a way to deflect all his possessive, jealous, and protective urges toward Alison.

Now here he was, Antony Medichi, ascended out of Italy some thirteen centuries ago, and caught so hard by the breh-hedden that visions poured through his head of crossing the room, picking Parisa up in his arms, carrying her to his bedroom, and taking her in every possible way.

That he’d been assigned as her guardian sure as hell didn’t help since it now increased the time he would have to be with her.

She glanced up at him quickly. Her nostrils flared. Great. She could smell his desire for her.

She buried her nose back in the book, her hand on her cheek. He detected an answering wave of tangerine, but her body language told him to back off. Fine. Good. Great. Wonderful. Shit.

“I came to tell you that I’ve been assigned as your Guardian of Ascension.”

She nodded, looking up at him again. “I know. Endelle told us at lunch today.”

“I would change this if I could.”

“It’s for the best,” she said.

“And how is that?” Okay, so there was an edge of hostility to his voice. He moved to his chair, wondering if he should sit down. He remained standing.

She leaned back and looked up at him, closing the book over her left hand, holding her place among the pages. “Obviously, we have to learn to be around each other despite this … this thing between us. Like you, I have no interest in it. I think a warrior’s life is … unmanageable.” She huffed a sigh, then dipped her head once more to the book and let the pages flop back open.

Well, how do you like that? She was dismissing him and she’d called his life unmanageable. Which it was, but that wasn’t the point. He was a goddamn Warrior of the Blood. He’d had women chase him all hours of the day and night for centuries. He could have any woman he wanted. He was revered in their society and she wasn’t even ascended, dammit.

Unable to contain his absurd reaction, he turned on his heel and left what had always been his sanctuary.

Antony, came softly, so softly inside his head, he wasn’t certain he’d heard her, but it was Parisa’s voice. Did the ascendiate have telepathic abilities as well? Great.

He listened, but nothing followed. He thought about responding but what for?

Instead he went into the kitchen and opened a bottle of Cabernet. He poured two glasses. He knew she liked his label. He felt damn sad as he returned to the library carrying both goblets.

He set one at her elbow. “I’m sorry to invade your space like this,” he stated in as formal a voice as he could muster, “but because of the recent attack, I have to stick close. I’ll try not to disturb you.”

He turned his back to her and took up his favorite chair opposite the window that overlooked the front lawn. He stretched out his long legs. He brooded.

Antony entered his mind once more. He glanced at her. Was she trying to communicate telepathically? Could she even do that? But she didn’t lift her gaze. He frowned. She sighed. Yeah, he was probably imagining it because his name on her lips, aloud or in his mind, was exactly what he craved.

He pulled a book from his stack of must-reads. He opened The Good Earth. He lost himself in a completely different world, or at least he tried to.

Honoring the traditions of a culture

Casts a brilliant light over the world.

—Collected Proverbs, Beatrice of Fourth

Chapter 19

Marcus stood in the southern hall, waiting for Havily to emerge from their bedroom. He had showered and shaved in one of the other guest rooms, leaving her alone to dress in private. He’d donned his favorite tux, a kick-ass piece of workmanship by Tom Ford. He had his hands in his pockets and felt like a teenager. All he lacked was a set of keys to jangle.

He was wound up for several reasons, not least of which was because his breh was dressing in a nearby room, which meant for part of that time she had to be naked. How he kept from busting the door down, he didn’t know.

So, there was that.

His mind kept going to the future and whether or not they would have a future together. If not, exactly what would the future look like living apart from her? Would he always feel this way about her? Would the insane attraction to her, the need to be right by her side at all times, ever dim? If it didn’t, how the hell would he be able to stay away from her? Or worse, how the hell would he ever bear the sight of her with another man?