Revolution (The Revelation Series Book 4) (4 page)

With his breath fanning my face, Asher lowers his mouth, but not to my parted lips. Instead, he brushes them over my cheek before placing them next to my ear.

“I’m not sure what they taught you in the human school system about sex education, but usually, after sleeping with a guy for the first time, it’s not customary to stab him and then run into the depths of Hell with another man. Image the ego bruise that was to me, siren.” His voice is so guttural that it breaks my heart all over again.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper and squeeze my eyes closed tighter, not expecting that reaction.

“You’re not forgiven yet,” he growls in my ear and releases his strangle slightly.

“I understand,” I rasp as a tear rolls down my cheek.

Asher’s tender thumb brushes away the trail of water. “I’m not here to dry your eyes.”

I nod my acceptance and allow his anger to roll through me as I stand compliantly.

“All night, I’ve been struggling with whether to kiss you or strangle you.” He releases a humorless laugh and removes his hands from my throat. Placing one on each side of my body, against the door, caging me in. “Guess we know which action won out,” he continues with anger lining his tone.

I swallow the dull ache caused by chokehold. Asher’s grip wasn’t enough to really hurt me, but nonetheless, it caught me off guard.

“I’ve fucking missed you, siren,” he says with a rough tone. “Your unpredictable behavior and apparent newfound bouts of violence need to be managed professionally. I guess we’re heading to couples therapy after all.” His tone is throaty as he speaks.

I don’t respond. What could I possibly say? Instead, I focus on my lingering discomfort.

Neither of us moves for the longest time. Asher just stands in front of me, his lips at my ear, breathing heavily. After a while, his chin drops in defeat to the top of my shoulder

I pinch my face. His close proximity is stirring the longing in me and all I want to do is grab the front of his shirt, twist him, push him up against the door and kiss him senseless.

“You fucking stabbed me in the heart, siren. Literally and figuratively.” His voice is irate.

“I’m so—” Asher’s grunt cuts me off.

“Don’t speak. Just don’t fucking speak right now,” he warns abruptly.

“Okay,” I exhale as we slip back into silence.

After what feels like an eternity, his deep voice cuts through the quiet. “You keep apologizing as if it means something. It doesn’t at this moment, so just fucking stop,” he says, lifting his head off my body. “Just stop.”

I sag at the loss of contact and then startle when he sharply turns his back to me. My eyes slide open and without warning he reaches back and snatches my hand in his. My body automatically stiffens, not knowing what his intentions are. I’ve never been more terrified and thrilled at the same time.
Maybe he’s right? Therapy might be a good idea after all.

“It’s okay, siren, we’re just going to talk,” he says.

I allow Asher to lead me to the bed, focusing on the Celtic cross tattoo decorating his right forearm as he turns on the lamp. His eyes shift from the bed to the chair in front of the large windowpanes before he drops my hand as if I’ve burned him.

Brooding, he saunters over to the oversized chair and sits in the shadows. After a moment, I realize the dark outline earlier was his.

“You were watching me sleep?” I question and crawl back into bed.

“Every night for the last month,” he admits, staring out over the city.

I suck in a harsh breath. “What? Why?”

“I’m your protector, siren, it’s my job.” His voice is flat.

“I see,” I reply dejectedly and study him.

The dusting of facial hair that I love so much darkens his jawline and his dark brown hair looks messily perfect on top of his head. His long dark lashes make fan shadows over his cheeks from the glow of his indigo eyes. The light reflection bounces off the glass panes and ripples through me, setting off our bonding energies.
Damn, he’s perfection.

“Fuck, siren. I wish you’d just been honest with me.” He sits back with a ticking jaw.

God, why won’t he look at me?
“I made a mistake.” My answer is a soft murmur.

“A mistake?” he repeats in a disgusted tone. “You wrecked me.” His response is rough.

My heart falls at his admission. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Ash. I wish I could take it back. I panicked. Michael wasn’t moving fast enough. I knew that my mother was in danger. What would you have had me do?” I hate that my voice cracks but it does.

From his side profile, I see his eyes close. “You can’t take it back, siren.” He sighs. “I should have known you’d do something stupid. Christ, I was inside of you the entire fucking night and had no clue of your intentions,” he mumbles more to himself than me.

“I didn’t want you to know. I was protecting you the only way I could think,” I argue.

“Protecting me,” he bites out in an annoyed tone. “No, siren. You didn’t trust me enough to know I would take care of us. What you did wasn’t protection. It was egotistical. You tried to handle me. Control me. That’s not protection or love. It was unwise and foolish.”

I flinch at the statement. “Ash—”

“I’m not fucking done. I thought you believed in us. I thought you thought I was good enough, that we finally had faith in one another. I thought you actually fucking saw me,” he spits out. “Instead, you ran to someone else to protect you. You trusted Gage to help you. Is he everything you’ve ever dreamed of, siren?” he whispers nastily.

I ignore the Gage jab. “I do see you, Asher. I love you,” I declare. “I did it to protect you.”

“I don’t believe you.” His eyes shift to my fidgeting hands. “I don’t fucking believe you anymore. You think this is easy? Christ, I go against everything I believe in for you, and this is how you fucking show me you love and have faith in me? By betraying me?” he barks.

“If I’m not forgiven, then why are you here?” I yell in a desperate frustration.

He stands and stalks at me menacingly. “Because I FUCKING LOVE YOU!”

The room has become too small and all the air escapes my lungs. I stare at my interlocked fingers and sit back against the pillows to hold myself up with the weight of his statement. Midway to me, he stops and takes on an intimidating stance. I try not to be scared of his intensity, but it’s overwhelming.

“I CANNOT EXIST WITHOUT YOU!” he shouts before letting out a cold laugh. “I can’t fucking breathe without you. The man I am without you, siren, is not a man I want to be.”

My breath hitches at his declaration. I stand, careful not to spook him, and take two cautious steps in his direction, gauging his reaction. He doesn’t move. Asher’s body is rigid and his face hard. His eyes hold mine, meeting them for the first time tonight.

Frozen in place, his face pales and he looks like he’s about to be sick. After a moment of staring at me oddly, his stiff body closes the distance between us in two strides. His expression shifts from one filled with hurt and pain, to one that seems mystified.

At the change in his demeanor, I realize what he’s seeing for the first time. My eye color didn’t turn until the next morning, after I had left him. He hasn’t seen my new indigo irises yet. With a rough jerk, he grabs my chin and tilts my head back so he can look me directly in the eyes.

“Fuckkkk,” he draws out in a soft voice staring at my irises that match his, perfectly.

I let my lids slide shut and inhale a shaky breath.

“Open your eyes, siren.” At the familiar command, I do. His jaw is ticking at a rapid pace.

“It’s no big deal. You’ve seen them this color before, Asher. In the Eternal Forest when we stone slept and realm jumped together to see Priestess Arabella,” I whisper.

Brushing off my reminder, he continues to stare at me. “Take off your shirt and turn around.” The demand is released in a clipped tone as he releases my chin in a harsh manner.

“Asher,” I implore.

“DO IT!” he screams, causing me to jump and then become angry.

Lifting my chin in defiance, I lock eyes with him and pull my tank top over my head, exposing my bare chest. His eyes don’t leave mine though. Slowly, I turn and give him my naked back. With a shaky hand, I drag my long hair over one shoulder to give him the full view. At the movement, I hear his rough intake of breath and freeze.

In an instant, the heat from his body seeps into my back while his fingers trace his matching mate mark sitting at the bottom of my spine. “Holy Shit. I never had the chance to see it, siren.” The softly spoken statement is lined with adoration. “Fuck, that’s sexy.”

My eyes close, relishing his touch as the mark pulses in delight. It’s almost as if his touch is awakening my soul. My knees go weak and I sag against him while his fingers continue to follow the pattern. My entire body hums and my soul lights and warms from within.

“Do you still love me?” he questions in my ear in a kinder voice.

“Does it matter?”

“You have my eye color and wear my mate mark. It fucking matters, siren. Do you?”

“With everything I am,” I vow quietly. “I understand, though, if we’re over.”

Even without turning to see Asher, I can feel his core shake at my words.

“We are NOT over. We are not ever over, siren. You are not forgiven yet, but understand this. I’m never going to be fucking over you. You own me now, more so than before.”

His hand leaves the mark and it throbs violently in protest.

“If you want me, siren…earn me,” he says in my ear before the heat leaves my back.

I turn to promise I will, but the room is empty.

4
Stuck i
n Reverse

THE ICE COLD WATER IS A WELCOME SENSATION as it splashes across my scorching face. Since having seen Asher last night, I can’t get my skin to cool down. I’m hot, achy, and irritated. It’s almost like he triggered a fever when he touched the mate mark.

After applying my vanilla-coconut gloss, I study my reflection in the mirror. I’m still not used to the fact that my eyes are no longer hazel. I’ll admit though, the azure flecks make them sparkle and seem brighter. Oddly, my hair seems glossier too. To add to the weirdness, there’s a constant pink hue spread across my cheeks, probably from my feverish body.

I’m mumbling to myself about Asher’s visit last night when I head downstairs for breakfast. Just as I take the last step and turn toward the dining area, I walk straight into a rock hard, solid mass and it seems to be chuckling at me. Two large hands jump out to steady me so I don’t topple over from the force of the collision.

My eyes lift and encounter a set of words that make my heart soar and fall at the same time.
What Kind of Pussy Are You?
The question sits on top of a photo of an adorable white, fluffy cat. A ghost of a smile makes its way onto my face.
Damn, he’s lovable.

My gaze continues to move upward until I see a familiar mega-watt toothy smile and a set of warm blue eyes that look so much like Asher’s.

“Like my apron, cutie?” Callan’s light-hearted voice runs over me.

Suddenly, my eyes begin to sting at the sight of him. I thought he’d hate me, but the look of adoration he’s giving me, feels like a reprieve.

“Hi,” I squeak out.

“Glad your ass is finally up, Eves. I made Banana Fosters French toast.” He wiggles his eyebrows and runs a plate full of breakfast deliciousness under my nose.

I just stand there in shock, unmoving, like an idiot, with my stomach rumbling in hunger.

“I can tell my culinary skills have rendered you speechless.” He leans in. “And yes, to answer your inner most dire question, that is pumpkin spice you smell,” Callan teases.

“You’re here?” I whisper. “And you don’t hate me?”

Asher’s brother offers me a confused, yet soft expression. “Of course we’re here, cutie. We’re a clan, no matter what. You’re not the first St. Michael member to stab another.”

I smile, grateful for the sentiment and throw my arms around him, pulling the protector into a half bear hug before he jerks away and gets serious.

“Just to be on the safe side though, we’ve removed the butter knives from your place setting. For a while, I’m afraid, you’ll be using the back of a spoon to spread your condiments.” He gives me a pointed look.

My lips morph into a full-blown smile. “Understood.”

“You never answered my question,” Callan says.

I knit my brows. The youngest St. Michael points to his apron. “Do you like it?”

I nod. “It’s purr-fect.”

My answer sends a wave of laughter through him. “See, Eves, you’re definitely meant to be one of us. You’re a St. Michael through and through, cutie. Take a seat.”

It’s then I realize he’s not the only London clan protector here. My head twists to see the rest of the family seated at the table, including Asher.

“By the grace.” McKenna drops her napkin angrily onto her lap, locking her hateful glare onto me. “Her damn eye color matches the clans. Again! Does she have raven wings now too?”

“Good to see you too, cupcake. And no, I don’t have wings,” I retort dramatically.

Asher ignores her outburst and focuses on his stack of food, munching loudly on his crisp bacon. He’s deliberately disregarding my presence and it’s making me uncomfortable.

“What are you still doing here?” I question Asher in a soft voice.

“Why does she look confused?” Abby asks in a gentle tone. “You said you explained to her last night why we’re here,” she says to Asher before offering me loving smile.

“My mate is here. So here I am,” Asher responds without a glance my way.

I fold my arms over my body protectively. His coldness towards me hurts. It’s deserved, but painful nonetheless. Callan piles French toast onto my plate and takes a seat next to me. I glance up and meet Abby’s unreadable stare.              

“Your eyes are beautiful, Eve.” She takes my hand across the table and squeezes. “And for the record, I’m totally mad at you.”

I nod. “I understand. What I did was…unforgivable,” I murmur and my stomach drops.

“I’m not upset with you for Asher.” She waves it off as if I took his cookie. “We all get it. He’s a brooding ass. Believe me, I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve wanted to stab him myself. Kudos to you for actually doing it,” she says in a cheerful tone. “I thought Keegan was the only one with enough balls in the family to actually do something like that.”
Wait, what?

I look to Keegan and Asher for clarification, but they’re in deep conversation with Marcus, Nassa and Gage, pretending not to listen to what she’s saying.

“I’m upset with you because you’re supposed have a mating ceremony. It’s intended to be special. Where I, you know, would be your
maid-of-honor
, for lack of a better term. This family wanted to stand by your side when you officially became one of us.” Abby sighs in displeasure.

“Speak for yourself.” Kenna’s cool grumble floats over to me.

“Babe, is this about Eves, or you?” Callan jests.

Abby scrunches her face. “Me. It sucks,” she whines adorably. “Not to mention, she needs to infuse the mark with Asher’s blood to complete the bond. The human is clueless.”

I release a hollow laugh. “That’s probably not going to happen, Abby.”

A loud clank emits from the opposite end of the table. “Stop fucking making decisions on my behalf. Christ, siren,” Asher barks. “Have you learned nothing from your recent actions?”

“Asher,” Keegan warns.

I sit back in my chair then push my plate forward. The rest of the group has gone silent.

“I can’t fix what I’ve done to you, Asher. I’ve said sorry. You won’t accept my apology, nor will you forgive me. Your words. Why on earth would you want to stay mated to me?”

His cold eyes snap to mine. “No. I said I’m not
ready
to forgive you, yet. What you can’t fucking fix is the fact that I love you, siren. I’ve made it clear to you over and over that I would give it all up for you.” He laughs without humor and sits back casually. “You know what, I don’t think you fucking believe me. I think you believe that I’d never chose you.” He arches a brow in challenge.
It’s true. How could he pick me over loyalties and family?

I have no response. Instead, I open and close my mouth, trying to formulate a response.

“I am here, siren. For. My. Mate. So that she can watch me, chose her. In turn, I’m going to watch her, earn me back,” he says in a low, threatening voice.

My heart stops at the intensity behind his words. Panic sets in. I need him to leave.

I slide my focus to Marcus. “You can’t let him stay here. Tell him he isn’t welcome.”

Marcus shifts uncomfortably. “Baby girl,” he says gently. “He’s the future gargoyle king and your mate. I have no right to tell him anything.”

None of this is turning out the way it was supposed to. Asher is supposed to be far away from me, along with the clan. Protected. I’m supposed to be with Deacon now and my mother is supposed to be safe. At these thoughts, my frustration heightens. I slump in defeat.

“Why are you doing this, Asher? To get back at me?” I ask in a quiet manner.

“Get back at you?” he repeats too calmly. “Is that the kind of man you think I am?”

Callan exhales a sharp breath next to me. “Shit. I hate when Mom and Dad fight.”

Abby smirks at her mate. “Right? It’s like a train wreck, but yet, you can’t look away.”

I grit my teeth in aggravation because no one is acting the way they’re meant to be. This is all too normal. I pick up the fork and twirl it in my hands, angrily attempting to release some of the frustration that everyone’s presence and my guilt are causing.

“By the grace. This is going to end badly,” Keegan mumbles at my nervous twitching.

“Planning to stab him again? With a fork this time?” Kenna pins me with a hard look.

I drop the utensil quickly at her comment. “Why are the rest of you here again?”

“We’re a gargoyle clan, cutie,” Callan answers, chomping on his food. “Technically, by supernatural definition, we’re required to stick together. You’re a clan member now, like it or not. So, if you chose to stay here, we do too.” He grins widely. “Pass the syrup, would you?”

I snatch the condiment in annoyance at Callan’s casualness and whip it at him.

“I don’t like it.” The words come out harsher than I mean them to and instantly, I feel bad.

“You may not like it, siren, but you’re not the one who gets to decide. Nor do you get to be mad, I do. I believe you have demon training to attend to. Consider yourself dismissed,” Asher growls.

“Seriously? Can’t we get through one meal in this family without all the drama,” Abby complains under her breath. “It’s like Thanksgiving at every mealtime.”

“Asher St. Michael, you did not just dismiss me like a servant, did you?” I ask and stand.

“Shit.” Callan sighs. “The syrup isn’t even warm anymore and it’s sat so long, my powdered sugar has dissolved. Baby, they’re all ruining my breakfast,” he moans to Abby.

In response, she offers a sympathetic look, taking his hand and stroking it in comfort.

Asher stands and takes on his warrior pose. “I did. You. Are. Dismissed.”

That’s it. The last of my resolve at his presence has snapped. “Fuck you, Asher.”

Asher’s face morphs into a cocky expression. “Anytime, sweetheart.”

Holy shit. He did not just use the nickname I hate. I’m just about to leap over the table and strangle the daylights out of his beautiful body when Callan stands abruptly and grabs at me.

“Enough, cutie. This isn’t helping,” he whispers in my ear. “Your point has been made.”

Asher and I just stand there seething at one another. Through my rapid breathing, I hear Abby’s sweet voice. “Eve, join me in the ladies room, won’t you?” she says before delicately placing her napkin on the table and yanking my arm in an unlady-like fashion, dragging me out of the dining area.
Damn, she’s strong.

Once in Marcus’s opulent bathroom, Abby shuts the door and runs a hand towel under cold water. When it’s sufficiently wet, she points for me to sit on the fancy bench Marcus uses more as décor than for its functionality and begins to dab my face with it.

“What the hell is wrong with me? Why do I want to rip him apart and push him against the wall at the same time?” I pant. “And why the fuck is my skin burning up? Am I sick?”

Abby just watches me in silence while continuing her attempt to cool me down.

“Why are you staring at me like my head is about to spontaneously combust?” I ask.

“You’re not going to like what I have to say,” she offers with a sympathetic look.

“Just tell me, please,” I implore softly.

“It’s possible that you might be in heat,” Abby says with a guarded expression.

“Heat?” I repeat on a semi-screech. “Holy shit.” I drop my head into my hands.

Abby gently removes my hands from my face and pins me with a pointed look. “If you didn’t stab and run, I could have better prepared you for this, Eve. I thought we were friends. Good friends. I thought you trusted me.”

My features turn guilty. “We are and I do trust you, Abs, with my life. I love you.”

Sitting next to me, she places her hand over mine. “You’re a newly bonded female with an alpha gargoyle mate. Even if you have yet to infuse your mate mark with his blood, you’re wired to him now, Eves. Fully.” She sighs and brushes my cheek with the back of her hand. “It’s probably why you have a constant blush and your skin feels like it’s on fire. You’re programmed to each other’s feelings. They bounce off one another, and elevate what the other is currently experiencing. It’s part of the bond, sweetie,” she explains.

“I’m human. Is this normal?” I hold her sad gaze.

“Yes and no. It’s normal, once mated, to be constantly aroused, share gifts, and be connected on a higher emotional level. The intensity of your connection though, is not typical for a human. But then again, you’re not just any ordinary human, are you?” She smiles brightly.

“So you’re saying that for Asher and I, our feelings are feeding off one another, heightening our current emotional states?” I clarify.

“Yes. This is why, in the Eternal Forest, when you tried to mind dig into his thoughts, he got so pissed. Sharing emotions and supernatural connections are abilities that need to be mastered over time, slowly, because it’s overwhelming and connects you to your soul’s mate in a way that nothing else can. Do you understand?”

“How do I make it stop? Or control it?” I wait for her to answer.

The striking gargoyle tilts her head in judgment. “Infuse the mark with his blood and complete the bond. If not, with time, the bond will fade and so will the side effects.”