From Ashes

by Elise Faber

  Reaching down, he swept her into his arms and carried her into her bedroom.

  Like all of the single Rengalla, her quarters were the equivalent of a studio apartment.

  The short hallway opened into a large room that was bigger than the trailer she’d spent her entire childhood in. The bed was centered between two doors, one that led to a large walk-in closet and the other that opened up into a spa-like bathroom, complete with marble counter tops and antique bronze fixtures.

  It was the nicest place she’d ever lived, and her sparse belongings looked ridiculous amongst the opulent furnishings.

  But Mason didn’t spare any of that a second glance.

  He strode across the room with her in his arms, tossed her on the bed, and followed her down onto the mattress.

  Everywhere. He was absolutely everywhere.

  His hands and mouth worked in tandem. It was both overwhelming and damned good at the same time. Slightly calloused fingers traced down her cheeks, her neck, along the sides of her breasts to her waist. They slipped underneath her T-shirt and slid slowly—too slowly—back up. Each lackadaisical circle brought his hands closer to the place she wanted him, only to have him stop just shy of her bra.

  Before she could complain, before she could rip her mouth away from his and demand that he give her what she wanted, Mason reached beneath her and unhooked the clasp of her bra.

  Pushing it and her shirt up, his mouth lasered in on her aching nipple. He took one hard pull that had her gasping and grabbing his head to hold him closer at the same time.

  “Mason,” she moaned as he used his teeth and tongue, sending desire scorching through her body, making her pussy ache, her thighs clench together.

  He switched to the other side. “I love it when you say my name.”

  Her response was lost when he gave her other nipple the same determined attention. Hips tilting in unfulfilled need, she writhed against him, her body instinctively seeking more, needing more. Thankfully, he gave it to her, his hand sliding down and unclasping her jeans, and slipped work-roughened fingers beneath the elastic of her underwear arrowing straight for the spot she needed to be touched. He circled her clit, pressed firmly, and . . . it took less than two minutes before she was shouting his name and flying over the cliff.

  When she came back to earth, he withdrew his hand and buttoned her jeans then rolled to his side and pulled her close. Her ponytail had come loose and the strands itched her face. He brushed them back, running his fingers through the slightly tangled locks. After a moment, he chuckled softly. “I don’t think I ever understood the meaning of bases until right now.”

  “Hmm?” she asked, feeling too sated to care much about what he was saying. And though she figured she should probably offer to reciprocate the favor, she needed to regain the feeling in her limbs in order to do so.

  Give her five minutes.

  “I think I just made it to third base.”

  Finally comprehending what he was saying, she laughed. “Proud of yourself, are you?”

  “Mmhmm,” he murmured, brushing a kiss to the top of her head. “I also don’t think I’ve ever necked like a teenager either.”

  She cuddled into his chest. “Necked?” she teased. “You’re showing your age, old man.”

  He ran a hand down her spine. “Maybe,” he said. It froze mid-journey as hesitation slunk into the connection of their minds. “I didn’t scare you did I? I was too . . . focused on—” His breath caught. “After everything that happened to you, I don’t want you to not feel in control.”

  Affection for the man lying next to her made her heart swell almost to the point of bursting. “I’m not scared.” She waffled for a moment, trying to decide how to tell him. In the end, she just blurted it out. “I’m a virgin. Not because I necessarily want to be, but . . .” She sighed. “I didn’t—I didn’t even know about Netflix until I came here. My opportunities were—” She broke off, her cheeks hot and she had to force herself to hold his stare.

  Silence stretched until finally he spoke, the words careful. Soft. “It doesn’t matter to me if you’re not.” A beat. “Whether you chose to, or were forced. I wouldn’t care.”

  A burst of irritation slid through her, and she sat up, pulling her shirt down and crossing her arms. “Look, I’m a virgin, okay? I’m twenty-seven years old and haven’t had sex.” She threw up her hands. “That’s just the reality.” She sighed. “And I told you before . . . those men kissed me, touched me, cornered me, but they didn’t—” A shake of her head. “I was able to stop it from going further.”

  Chagrin softened the hard planes of his face and he pushed himself up to sit next to her. “I didn’t mean it to sound as though I didn’t believe you.” He faltered for a moment and Gabby swore that his cheeks went a little pink. “I just . . . I never understood why men thought they were allowed to put value on what a woman did with her body, or didn’t do, or had no control over.” He ran his fingers lightly down her throat. “And it wouldn’t matter to me because what’s important is us. Now.”

  Her lips parted, a response on the tip of her tongue when there was a pounding knock on the door.

  She gasped at the same time that Mason cursed.

  “Fifteen minutes and counting until dinner, bro!” a voice Gabby recognized as one of Mason’s brothers—but not which one—hollered. “Better get your ass in gear unless you want Mom storming down here!”

  With another curse, Mason grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet.

  “You’d better get changed,” he said with a light smack to her bottom and a push in the direction of the bathroom. “He’s not jokine about her storming down here.”

  Twenty-Six

  Mason

  He walked alongside Gabby down the hall to his mother’s rooms.

  Her cheeks were still flushed from the orgasm and blonde tendrils escaped from her ponytail. Unfortunately she was also dressed, but that was probably for the best. The sight of her naked breasts, of the curve of her hips, the soft moans she made as she came—

  Damn.

  The urge to skip dinner, to keep her in that bed until she was lax and sated and—

  So not helping his problem.

  Concentrating on trying to get blood to flow away from his groin instead of to it, he turned his focus to the murals coating the walls. The colorful, three-dimensional images depicted everything from pounding waves to abstract Pollack-like renderings were easy to get lost in. They were the batteries of the Colony, siphoning off extra magic, fueling everything from the heating and air conditioning to the lights overhead.

  Including, his mother’s kitchen.

  He knew she’d be working overtime, cooking all of their favorites, and it felt odd to be going to a family dinner with someone. He hadn’t brought home a woman since Victoria. Not that he’d brought her home, exactly. More like they’d been properly introduced at the right balls and parties, a product of a more formal time.

  Things had changed. Years had passed.

  And . . . Gabby was different.

  They were still learning each other, but he already cared about her deeply, and more importantly . . . he didn’t want to screw things up.

  Even as that thought entered his mind, she squeezed his fingers. The touch was soft, almost gentle, and he felt her consciousness sweep against his own.

  “There you go again,” she murmured.

  “It’s nothing.” But he knew he needed to get his shit together if he didn’t want to fuck up the single good thing in his life since Victoria. Which was the problem, wasn’t it? His fear that Gabby would be taken from him in the same way, his desperate desire to protect her, the gnawing terror he would fail.

  “It’s not nothing,” she said, coming closer, brushing her shoulder against his. “But considering that we’re about to meet your mother, I’ll give you a free pass this one time.”

  His mouth twitched, but the impact on his soul was huge. He could almost feel the tethers strengthening, tying him even m
ore firmly to her.

  Quite simply, she was incredible.

  She’d been through hell, and she was . . . perfect.

  Her eyes locked onto his. “However,” she said with a series of intense finger gestures between the pair of them. “We will talk about this soon.”

  The dark emotions were swept away by a sudden mischievousness that made him feel about a hundred years younger. Going with it, he leaned close enough to whisper in her ear, her citrus scent surrounding him, intoxicating him. “Do I get a reprieve if I promise you more orgasms?”

  Her lips parted, heat tinged her cheeks, and her pulse was rapid beneath the skin of her throat. Then she shuddered and stepped back. “You’re dangerous.”

  “Don’t I know it,” he murmured, but instead of allowing the poisonous fears to creep back into his mind, he determinedly pushed them away.

  “What’s your mother like?” she asked as they turned a corner into yet another hall.

  The Colony was a beehive of interconnected hallways and corridors set in Northern Kentucky. It was isolated and on easily defendable grounds—surrounded by lakes on two sides, the forest on the other, the waterfalls on the last—and the terrain was both hidden and sheltered. So, despite his idiotic campout beyond Daughtry and Cody’s bond-magic-fueled shield, it was more secure than ever before. If some unsuspecting human did manage to make their way through the vast waterways or find the carefully obscured—by earth magic—forest road, the building they found at the road’s end was glamoured to be as ugly and abandoned-looking as possible. No sane mortal would approach.

  Of course, it didn’t appear that way to the Rengalla. For the people who lived here, the surroundings were filled with marble and crystal, real hardwood floors and the murals lining the walls.

  And his mother was the woman who had designed it all.

  The glamours that hid them from prying mortal eyes, and everything else—from color schemes to throw pillows for the entire Colony. She had an entire team beneath that worked with implementing her ideas and upkeep and any changes that needed to be made. A different team—Mason was their liaison from the security side—made sure the Colony had the most technologically advanced equipment available. Anyone who lived at the Colony, worked for Rengallan businesses, or soldiered were taken care of—and they all shared in the profits equally.

  The good thing about having living for centuries was that long-term investments took on a whole new meaning.

  Of course, there were those like Gabby’s family who chose not to live or work for the Rengalla, to strike out on their own. They were free to do so, and it was John and his team’s responsibility being to try and make sure they didn’t slip through the cracks.

  A difficult job, especially when keeping ties over many decades.

  People tended to grow apart over time, and the Rengalla had been no different. Millennia had caused fractures and long lives also had long memories. But as their fight against the Dalshie had intensified, most had preferred to live at the Colony or another Rengallan establishment—they had several around the world. The fight was brutal and soul-crushing, but in a way it had been the best thing for their people, rebuilding connections, strengthening ties, and ultimately to help bolstering their businesses and the strategies they had in place to protect their people.

  They were in a much better place today than a century before.

  But they still had a fuck-ton of work to do.

  “Mason?”

  Gabby’s voice had him blinking out of his mental reverie and replaying their conversation so he could answer her. “My mother is great.”

  She glanced over at him and he didn’t need to hear her say, “Seriously?” He’d heard it loud and clear along the bond.

  Her irritation made him chuckle. “I was getting to the rest of it,” he said, tugging a strand of her hair. “She’s a designer.” He made a gesture that encompassed the walls around them. “Was the one who decorated the Colony, in fact.”

  “She did all of this?” Gabby asked, incredulous. “It’s beautiful.” She winced as they passed a mural that looked more like magical upchuck than actual. “Well . . . some of the murals are a little hit or miss. But the furnishings, the colors are gorgeous.”

  “She’ll appreciate that,” he said with a smile. “It was a bit of a struggle to get some of the former Council to okay the changes.”

  What used to be the ruling arm of the Rengalla had recently been dismantled, and Mason, for one, approved. Their people didn’t need bureaucracy. They needed good leadership—those who looked to the future, watched out for their vulnerable, built up their defenses and businesses so that they would have a future.

  “Really?” Gabby asked. “But it’s beautiful and classic and—”

  He rolled his eyes. “They had a hard time parting with the columns and gold leaf and busy wallpaper of Europe. They didn’t like her scaled-down approach.”

  “This is scaled-down?” Gabby’s eyes were wide as she glanced around. “There’s more marble in this place than a museum.” She tapped her knuckles against the wooden wainscoting. “I don’t think there’s one thing in this entire place that isn’t custom made, from the cabinets in my room to this trim.”

  “That’s probably true.” His lips twitch. “I do remember her mentioning a few years ago when they were redoing everything that there were too much Earth magic specialists with too little to do and she was going to give them something to fill their time.”

  “How’d that work?”

  “She got them growing trees.” A beat. “After the first lot, she found they were really busy with other things.”

  Gabby grinned. “I bet they did.”

  “Good news,” he said, “is we got the Gardens out of it, and they were much happier not seeing the products of their hard work going into a mill.”

  “Win-win.”

  He snaked an arm around her waist. “For everyone, including Mom, who also got her landscaping vision realized.”

  She snorted. “I think I love her.”

  “Most people do,” he said. “She’s a big personality, but she had to be to put up with Monroe, Morgan, and I.”

  A sigh. “I can’t believe I’m dating a triplet. It seems like something out of those bad reality shows Dee forces me to watch.”

  “Dee forces you?” He fixed her in place with a stare, felt the blip of her guilt in his mind. “You mean to tell me you don’t enjoy watching librarians yell at each other? Or criticizing wedding dresses?”

  “Nope.” A sigh. “They force me. The burden is a terrible one.”

  Laughing, loving the amusement, the happiness he could sense in her mind, he directed her to the right at the next corner.

  His mother’s quarters were just ahead, a large suite of rooms she’d offered to give up after he and his brothers had moved out, but one she’d been encouraged to keep nonetheless. She had more visitors and meetings than most of the other Rengalla, and the extra space had been put to good use. Plus, she had her own kitchen in the suite, and as much as everyone loved the food the cooks prepared, no one was shy about dropping in for a meal when his mother was cooking.

  His mouth was already watering.

  “I like that one,” Gabby murmured, slowing by a mural that depicted a barren mountaintop covered with snow. “It’s stark, but beautiful.”

  “Does it remind you of home?” he asked, curious.

  She was quiet for a few moments. “Yes, I didn’t think about that, but in a way, it is like my childhood. Dark and dangerous, but with moments of such piercing beauty that the hazards could almost be forgotten.” Her ponytail bobbed as she shook her head. “Ugh. That sounds ridiculous.”

  “No,” he said, halting her when she would have started walking again. “It’s not stupid. It’s beautiful. And true.” He sent his mind along their link, urging her to feel his sincerity. “Life is like that, right? We’re lulled into easy comforts, we forget to give thanks for the things we have, and then everything can be shatter
ed, torn away with something as senseless as an avalanche.”

  He held those pretty brown eyes until she nodded, until her breath shuddered out. “Yes,” she murmured, turning toward him and lightly cupping his jaw. “You’re right.”

  Resisting the urge to kiss her, to make them both forget about the past, he tugged her forward.

  They walked in silence, but wasn’t uncomfortable, nor was it the amiable silence of friends or lovers. Their minds were filled with memories of their pasts, of hopes for their future. And in that moment, he knew everything that held him back—his fears, his failures—was meaningless. This woman was more important than all of those things.

  Because . . . holy fucking shit, he loved her.

  Somehow, she’d become his heartbeat, woven so deeply that she was in the very marrow of his bones, and he couldn’t give that up, couldn’t give up the chance at a future with her—not for any cost.

  He was enough. He had to be enough.

  For Victoria and Daniel. For Gabby. For himself.

  He couldn’t retreat and keep living cut off from the world. He wanted to live. He wanted to spend his life loving this woman, helping her through the darkness, and hopefully one day earning her love back.

  His heart pounded, but if Gabby sensed the trend of his thoughts, she didn’t show it. He felt as though he’d been rocked by a nuke and she was walking along peacefully oblivious.

  Was this how Cody had felt?

  That his every cell belonged to Daughtry, that he would do anything to see her smile?

  It was unnerving, it was overwhelming, and . . . he wanted more.

  He wanted all of her.

  His magic tickled his mind, urging him to let it loose, to complete the bonding. He held back only because he’d promised he would. But the moment she was ready, he would solidify the connection between them, would link their souls permanently.

  Calm settled over him at the thought.

  He’d made his decision. He wouldn’t let the past destroy it.