Ascension, Laura Hall [black books to read .txt] 📗
- Author: Laura Hall
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The other werewolves laughed.
Declan did not.
“What happened today?” he asked mutedly.
I looked away. “Nothing. Everything’s good.”
“I see right through that crap,” he said, albeit gently.
I see every layer of your mind and heart.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I said, but softened the words by squeezing his hand, resting beside mine on the seat. “Let’s boil it down to worry for my dad.”
He threaded our fingers together, his grip reassuringly tight. “Okay.”
I nodded thanks, ignoring the pointed focus of the other werewolves. Declan, though, wasn’t having it. The pulse of his aura increased and a tickling growl filled his chest. From the corner of my eye, I watched the men begin inspecting their fingernails, adjusting their bow ties, and generally pretending they didn’t see their alpha holding hands with a freaky, white-haired anomaly.
It was a half-hour drive to our downtown destination. I spent the time listening to the brotherly banter between wolves, and not thinking about the events of the day.
I wasn’t thinking about it.
Nope, not thinking about Connor’s dead girlfriend, my missing dad, and my psycho—I mean psychic—mother. I definitely wasn’t thinking about her proclamation that I would bring Connor’s love back to life. Or that Adam had tried to plant a matchmaking seed. Or that I was psychic, too.
Goddammit.
I wanted to go home.
When the limo rolled to a stop outside a glitzy hotel entrance and I saw paparazzi and reporters crowding either side of a red carpet, I almost threw up. As it was, I nearly bloodied Declan’s hand with my fingernails.
“Are you kidding me?” I hissed.
Declan grinned as the door was opened from the outside. “What, you thought the designer dress was for a tea party?” He laughed at the mutinous expression on my face. “Just don’t trip.”
It was actually a near thing, prevented at the last moment by two of the wolves, who managed to keep me upright without making it look like I’d almost eaten carpet.
“Thanks,” I whispered, which earned me a wink and a grin.
When the nine of us were unloaded and dramatically lining the curb, the first limo’s doors finally opened. Samantha came first, resplendent in a pale blue gown that perfectly contoured her waifish physique. Her blond hair was bound in an elegant chignon, her makeup dramatic yet tasteful. She gazed imperiously at the crowd, a small smile on her face.
Behind her, the Prime emerged, and the paparazzi erupted.
“Prime Thorne!”
“Prime!”
“Connor!”
On and on, they yelled for him. For a look, a smile. I stuck close to Declan, not allowing myself my own look. A tuxedo was probably on par with a gladiator costume—detrimental if not immediately fatal to my IQ.
The red carpet was empty of other parties, no doubt intentionally, as no one stood a chance of winning the spotlight from the Prime.
Adam, white-robed and stoic, joined Declan and me as we brought up the rear. The rest of the wolves formed a loose vanguard before the power couple.
When Connor stopped for the fifth time to speak with a journalist, I whispered tensely, “How long is this going to take?”
Adam muttered, “As long as it takes.”
We’d moved maybe another three feet when I heard the first murmurs. A moment later, I saw a finger pointing at me.
“Lightning…”
“Her hair…”
“Saved the Prime…”
“Fiona! Fiona!”
Declan’s warm palm pressed to my bare back. “Smile, sparky. And breathe. You’re hyperventilating.”
My eyes moved of their own volition to the Prime. He was staring right at me, ignoring the yammering journalist behind him. His gaze flickered briefly down my dress, then snapped back to my face. He drew a breath, eyes flickering between peridot and emerald. Beside him, Samantha’s lips thinned and an angry flush flooded her cheeks.
“Huh,” said Declan.
And because timing was everything, and my life couldn’t possibly get better, my arms began to itch.
I turned to Declan. “Get me inside, now. And don’t touch me.”
At some unspoken command from their alpha, the wolves split formation, allowing us a straight shot to the hotel’s open doors. I squared my shoulders, focused on not tripping in my ridiculous heels, and sauntered inside without a backward glance. As soon as I entered the lobby, I veered toward the universal symbol for restrooms, passing through a glittering, whispering crowd.
The whispering grew louder, spiked with alarm, and those in my path hurried to get out of my way. A glance down at my arms told me why.
I rushed into the women’s restroom, which was blessedly empty. As the door whooshed closed, I placed my palms flat on either side of a marble sink, drew a deep breath, and released it slowly. Then I did it again. And again, until Adam’s bracelets cooled, my arms returned to pale with a sheen of scarring, and my charge equalized.
“I’ve been known to have bad ideas from time to time.”
The mirror showed me the Prime leaning casually against the closed door. I straightened and pretended to fix my hair. Against the loose white curls, my dark brows and eyelashes stood out starkly. Samantha was right—I should invest in a wig. I looked like a comic-book character.
Continuing to fuss with nonexistent frizz, I avoided the Prime’s gaze, unsure of where we stood with each other. The smarmy combativeness of our relationship thus far had clearly crossed some boundaries. For both of us.
With the reprimand in the training room fresh in my memory, I figured polite deference was the safest course.
“Thank you for checking on me. I’ll be out in a minute.”
“I can have Declan take you home, if you’d like.”
I bit my tongue in restraint, temper flaring at both his empty, formal tone and the word home. It took a few more deep breaths, but when I finally turned to face him, I was calm. I even managed a smile.
“I’m fine now.”
“Very well.” He began to turn, then paused. “You’ll be left to your own devices tonight, Fiona. Don’t make me regret it.”
“I won’t,” I said obediently.
He nodded, then disappeared. The door swung gently closed.
I turned back to the mirror to touch up my lip gloss, ignoring the feeling of having lost something I hadn’t known was treasured.
The gala was definitely not my scene. There was too much flashy jewelry, too many fake tans, and an excess of overly bright teeth. Besides continuous, unsubtle gestures and murmurs about me, the Prime was right. I was left to my own devices.
At least the buffet was good.
From the banners hung to either side of a distant stage, apparently we were here to celebrate the reopening of several historic properties in downtown Seattle. It all seemed a little contrived to me, merely an excuse for the rich and powerful to rub elbows.
The Prime was no exception. From my table at the farthest edge of the ballroom, I watched him network. Women and men alike fawned over him, brought him cocktails, and touched him at every opportunity. Samantha never strayed from his side, a perfect accessory.
I wondered if she knew she was temporary, that Connor was waiting for Gabriella to return. For me to bring her back to life.
“Those don’t look like pleasant thoughts.”
I looked up at the man standing beside my table, a glass of wine in one hand. He was permanently in his mid to late thirties and handsome, tall and broad-shouldered, with olive skin, dark eyes, and a killer smile that was currently directed at me.
Barely visible around him was a sapphire aura, shot through with peculiar ribbons of violet. I’d never seen anything like it.
He tolerated my blatant study, and even smiled wider as he presented his hand to me.
“Fiona Sullivan, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
I eyed his fingers. “Are you sure you want to risk it?” I asked, glancing pointedly at the buffer of space between my table and the crowd. The isolation was fine by me. All the auras in the room were giving me a headache.
He laughed. “Quite sure.”
I shook his hand without incident. “You have me at a disadvantage.”
Still smiling, he nodded at a chair several spaces from mine. “May I?” I nodded, and he unbuttoned his tux jacket and sat with lazy grace that reminded me, unfortunately, of Connor. “My name is Ethan Accosi. I’m a longtime associate of the Primes’ Office.”
“That’s a rather vague job description,” I said,
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