Overwhelmed, he wished he could vault through the barrier and take her in his arms. Instead, he braced both hands on thick chair arms as he slowly lowered himself into the seat, not taking his eyes off the woman with fiery hair and golden skin. Every fiber in his body stretched out to embrace her. She was his.
They’d been lovers in 1809. Companions. Promised journey mates. A favor from God.
His throat tightened at the memory, and he tried to drink in the air. She was the one woman gifted with the powers to complement his. He hadn’t known until too late how much he needed to share his life with someone. And his enemy had murdered her.
She must be the reason the tree summoned him.
He narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing the grounds for yet another assassin. But the only ones there were the Grants.
Uncertain what to expect, he watched, fisting his hand with a vow.
This time he would protect her. This time he would fulfill the promise of a lifetime mate. This time she would be his. Forever.
Emma’s brow furrowed as her hand swept along the bark of the tree. His tree. “Did I come here as a girl?” she asked. “I seem to know this place.”
“I don’t think so, child. Your father didn’t wander much south of the ravine. Claimed he got bad vibes here. Always afraid, that boy. Not enough faith. Of course, there were all kinds of stories bantered about back then. Some about a man being killed out here, tales about witches and ghosts, you name it. The place became run-down. But with the city rejuvenation and cleanup, well… As you can see, things are different now.”
Indeed, things had changed, Venn mused. His mansion lay south of the park, far enough away so as to not attract visitors. A strategic plan he’d sanctioned to assure his privacy. Back in the day, he’d met with wealthy plantation owners and connected politicians on his own terms. Otherwise, he’d avoided them. As time passed and with the never-ending urbanization, he didn’t care for the coziness.
When Emma pulled her hand away from the bark, it was like part of him flickered, then snuffed out. He got a mild case of shakes, and his temperature plummeted.
“It’s getting late, you must be tired,” Mrs. Grant said.
“Nah. I’m a night person, remember? How about if we stop by Aunt Fay’s Coffee Shop on the way home? I’ve been dreaming about one of her famous cinnamon buns all the way here.”
“Okay. You drive.” She hitched the small dog she held higher under her arm.
They were leaving. With a leap, Venn stood, banging his knee on the side table. He winced and beat back a wave of anxiety. He’d been given a second chance and he’d be damned if he’d let her out of his sight this time. At least, not for long.
Keenly aware that she wouldn’t know him in this life, he needed to initiate a meeting. This minute. However, walking up out of nowhere in a shabby park might scare her.
He wished they could simply pick up where they’d left off.
He envisioned her smiling at him with recognition and running into his opened arms.
But as she got closer to the car and farther from him, the vision scattered.
Aunt Fay’s. That was it.
He could use a jolt of caffeine.
* * *
As Venn pelted across Aunt Fay’s parking lot, loose pebbles crunching beneath his feet. The Tyler streets were fairly deserted, with most people in bed by nine on a workday like today.
He paused to watch Emma through the store window, noting that Mrs. Grant had chosen to wait in the car with her dog. His anticipation mounted.
When he entered the shop, her scent grabbed him—plumeria and cinnamon—an instant turn on. Even the heady aroma of coffee couldn’t rob him of her sweet, luscious fragrance, a perfume he’d profoundly missed. He drew a deep breath as he stepped behind her in line and enjoyed the sound of her voice while she spoke into a cell phone.
Instantly, she seemed to sense him as she stopped mid-sentence and turned.
He smiled and couldn’t help but flirt with her. “Something with whipped cream?”
She narrowed her eyes and angled her cell away from her ear with an incredulous nod. “Excuse me?”
“To drink.”
“Oh.” Her cheeks flushed a pretty pink. “Yes. Umm, and your recommendation is?” She cleared her throat, her eyes now glinting with pale fire, and then her brows pinched as if she were trying to recall something.
Was it possible she recalled him? That would make things so much easier. He was already finding it difficult to behave as though he didn’t know her.
“Anything with chocolate,” he answered as his lupine senses went into overdrive. Her fragrance intensified, warmed, indicating to him that her body knew what her mind did not.
Her subconscious recognized him.
She gave her head a shake, confusion painted on her face. “Sorry. I…” She paused a beat, steeling her features, and then pointed to her phone.
Her voice drove him to the brink of desperation. He wanted to get her alone. He needed her to remember what they’d shared.
And his beasts concurred with a beat of wings and hammer of paws.
“Miss. What would you like?” the clerk behind the counter asked.
She faced forward again, leaving him to stare at her long, sleek, shimmering hair. He’d kill to slide his fingers through those rich strands.
“For some reason I’m craving something I haven’t had before.” Her voice was soft and sweet. “A mocha latte. And forget the calories. Add on some extra whipped cream. Also a cinnamon bun, to go.”
He swallowed. He had cravings, too, ones he hadn’t given in to for a very long time. “Good choice,” he said to her back.
Now to convince her of a few other things…
Hell, she’d fallen for him before, she would again.
Remarkably, she seemed eerily the same as the woman he’d known all too briefly. Just modernize the setting and dress—her red-tinted hair, the perfect, to-his-shoulder height, her lovely mouth. He wondered if she’d see the resemblance given the chance.
With the briefest glance at him, Emma stepped to the pick-up line. Venn swiftly placed his order, telling the clerk he’d have the same.
As he came up behind her again, she broke off her phone conversation. “Todd, sorry, I’ll call you back. I have to get my order.”
Todd? Jealousy surged through his inner wolf, the idea of her even chatting with another male unbearable. His hawk flexed and curled his sharp talons. Fighting to keep control of his body, Venn rolled his shoulders.
While he got it together, the all too efficient waiter handed over Emma’s drink and to-go bag. She removed the lid, dropped it in the trash, and sampled the fluffy white cream. A died-and-gone-to-heaven expression lit her face.
Venn suppressed a groan. Then the sway of her hips as she walked toward the door came, nearly driving him wild.
Oh hell. This wasn’t going as he’d imagined.
He stepped out of line. “Excuse me! Emma?” he called after her.
She paused and glanced back.
“Sir, wait. Your drink,” the man behind the counter said.
Venn could care less about the joe, but he grabbed his order, thanking the guy, and caught up to her.
Her brows pushed together harder. “Do I know you?”
“No. But I know you. You’re the sculptor.” He smiled at her, trying to put her at ease.
“Yes,” she said, pride resonating from the single word.
Aw, that voice. The glue that held him together melted as if put to a blowtorch. A long-ago picture of her naked, full body pressed against him flickered through his mind. The temperature in the room spiked. The latte she held frothed and boiled over.
“My God,” she gasped.
Her exclamation hit a tripwire that made him regain focus. He grabbed the cup from her hand, noting in his peripheral vision that the other patrons were experiencing identical problems.
“I’ve heard of this. A sudden rise in barometric pressure,” he lied,
knowing full well exactly why the tables closest to him encountered the worst of the damage. The means of discharging excess energy that has built up inside of him just from being near her, then it explosively discharges.
Surprise lit her face. “How did you…? Man, you moved fast.”
He shrugged. Hell, being near her messed with his powers and made them hard to control.
Steam rose from the coffee cup, and he swirled the remaining liquid, then set his drink aside. He snatched a napkin from a table nearby and dried the outside of hers. “Here,” he said, handing it back. “This should be fine now. Maybe a bit hotter, so take care.”
“Thank you.” Her body tilted slightly closer to him.
“You’re welcome. Now, in exchange for saving you from having coffee all over your clothes, will you have dinner with me tomorrow night?”
Her eyes widened, and then she glanced down.
“Forgive me if I’m overstepping,” he quickly added. “It’s just that I don’t like to dismiss opportunities when they arise.” And he had a major rise happening down south.
She looked down, sunk her teeth into her lower lip, and lifted her shoulders.
Damn. She was going to refuse. He held his breath, waiting for her response and feeling like the world balanced on the tip of her finger.
CHAPTER TWO
Emma stared into the cup, hiding a guarded smile. Oh. My. God. This man radiated raw sex appeal.
She swallowed nervously, realizing he expected an answer. “I’m here on business, so I won’t be in town long. But thank you anyway.”
For the first time in her life, she understood the way her Paris friends went crazy over a particular male. A violent wave of attraction consumed her body, making her feel flushed and wanting to strip off her clothes.
Oh, the thought of being naked was the wrong direction to go.
She groaned inwardly, looking up at his rugged, sculpted face. He inhaled a deep breath, his nostrils flaring. She’d never noticed a man do that before. It was as if he thoroughly absorbed a scent.
The coffee? No. Her, she sensed. Heat suffused her cheeks. She needed to get out of here.
She blinked, chafing at her imagination, as something inside her protested with an excited high-pitched, No, no, no. Don’t. Miss. This. Opportunity. But she wasn’t the quick pickup sort. She didn’t even accept dates in bars, let alone coffee shops. All those years growing up in New York had taught her to go slow.
Yet today, the fast track appealed to her. More than it should, considering she’d been dating Todd exclusively for a while. But was dating across the Atlantic really dating? She in Paris, Todd in NYC. And here this hunky guy—with his hard, muscular, good looks—was asking her out.
And her body screamed, Yes!
No. Way, her voice of reason chimed in.
She gave him a tight smile and turned toward the exit. With incredible speed, he somehow blocked her path. Her knuckles grazed his broad chest, and she numbly watched coffee slosh in her cup. Then her eyes focused on the buttons of his shirt before sliding to an up-close-and-personal view of his chest. The guy worked out, if the well-defined fit of the shirt over hard pecs was any indication.
“You like wolves,” he said, smiling, indicating her T-shirt with the sweep of his gaze.
“Yes, I like wolves. They’re beautiful creatures. I love to sculpt them.”
“See we already have something in common.”
“Sculpting?” she teased.
He raised a single brow and tipped his head in that sexy way that made her heart flutter. “Wolves.”
She sipped her drink, and couldn’t look away from him.
“Come on, trust your instincts. I can be very persuasive,” he said, with a warm, yet challenging voice.
I bet you can. How did he read her so well?
She tipped back her head to look into the most unique hazel eyes she’d ever seen. Hues of copper, gold, and mahogany blended in a kaleidoscope of motion, and she licked her lips. He watched, not seeming to miss a thing as he took in every detail of the sweep of her tongue, making her feel self-conscious. His expression struck her as hungry. Sensual. Infatuated.
Emma scoured her brain because…because his features were familiar. Maybe from TV or a movie? But she couldn’t recall the who, how, or where.
Her heartbeat quickened. “I don’t even know your name.”
“Venn.” He hesitated, then added smoothly, “Venn Hearst.”
“Well, Venn.” She stepped back, putting distance between them and taking a tentative sip of her latte, stalling. “I just arrived in town and plan to spend time with my grandmother. I’m not—”
“Nonsense,” Grams said as she popped out from behind Venn’s large frame, startling the bejesus out of Emma. “We’ll have plenty of time together. Go on, dear.”
Emma stared at her in disbelief. She’d been so enthralled with Wolfman that she’d missed the chime of the door.
Grams leaned in close to Emma and whispered behind her raised hand. “Gotta go to the little girl’s room. I’ll be right back.” Her voice turned serious for an instant. “He has a noble aura, dear.” Then she had the audacity to wink at Venn. A flush of blood migrated to Emma’s cheeks again.
She gazed hard at the man to unearth what her grandmother saw. Noble aura? Her grandmother embraced on-the-edge beliefs—auras, chakras, mercury retrogrades, and all that. She was a Christian, make no mistake, but it seemed she had privileged knowledge at the same time. That’s why she was the one person Emma could talk to about her visions, although she rarely did.
“There you have it.” The corners of his mouth lifted, and his enticing eyes locked on hers. “We have your grandmother’s blessing.”
She didn’t realize she’d followed him to the exit until his palm splayed against the glass door. His hand looked as strong as the rest of him. Then she noticed the ring that graced the ring finger of his right hand. Comprised of a weave of gold, silver, and platinum with interlocking circles and a cluster of stones—a ruby, emerald, and diamond—in the center, she couldn’t stop staring at it. She needed to get a closer look. Something felt familiar about it, like she’d seen one like it before.
She blinked. Maybe she should accept his offer of dinner.
But no… This wasn’t her.
Emma nibbled the inside of her cheek, glancing in the direction of the bathroom to make certain the woman wasn’t sneaking up on her again.
“I’ll come by your grandmother’s tomorrow night at six-thirty,” he said.
When she snapped her head around, ready to decline the date for a second time, he was gone. Vanished. She blinked and peered out the window. In the parking lot, a set of bright red taillights flashed.
Oh crap.
As the tension and heat dissolved from her body, she grew tired…and, irrationally disappointed. She sighed, clutching her latte with both hands. What had she just done? For a brief second, she wondered how he’d even know where to pick her up, but then she realized she was in Tyler, where everyone knew everyone. She glanced at the coffee cup, knowing that he’d held it in his firm hands and feeling the ghost of his touch still imprinted on the cup somehow.
No, what she felt resided within her. She was being ridiculous for so many reasons. Good heavens, she’d been attracted to him. Incredibly so. The thought of having dinner with the man made her heart patter and her knees weaken. But this date was definitely not a good idea.
* * *
It was well past midnight and Venn couldn’t sleep. He stood naked, sipping Jim Beam at the floor-to-ceiling window of his master suite, staring out at the moon-dappled forest that surrounded his estate. The feverish attraction he’d felt when Emma was near had not dissipated, her presence lingering on his senses. Her floral scent had set up camp in his sinuses. The image of her autumn-red hair and sweet body hid behind his eyelids. And he hadn’t missed the wolf T-shirt she wore, stretched over her delectable breasts.
He inhaled several long, controlled breat
hs. Get it together, man. She’s just a woman. But he knew that wasn’t true. She was more. She was his mate. Now that he’d seen her, smelled her, touched her, she was like the worst craving ever. He was desperate to have her with him once again.
And he would. Soon. Very soon.
As coherent thought returned, worry replaced desire. Emma, like Amelia, could be in grave danger. His enemy was a killer and had proved long ago he’d do anything to get at Venn. Fear for her safety tore at his gut.
His inner wolf howled at him to guard her doorstep. Yes, an excellent idea.
He tipped back the glass and drained it. Indeed, waiting until tomorrow was too risky. He would go to her place and keep watch. As he set his glass down, the tree sent out a distress signal for a second time in twelve hours, hitting him square in the chest.
Now what?
Not demonic thieves, this time. No, it seemed a different source of energy.
He reached out with his senses. The tree tattoo on his back grew feverishly hot, and he grimaced. He pressed a hand to the matching mark on his wrist, acknowledging the warning.
The oak remained quiet, yet…desperate. And desperation had an unpleasant, moldy odor. He wrinkled his nose as the smell segued to one of fear.
Never a good sign.
He headed for the closet and dressed in jeans and a loose sweatshirt. Then he decisively made his way to the study and behind the massive desk to the expensive handmade bookshelf, where he traced a finger along a wormhole in the wood. The precise slide and pressure over the irregular indentations triggered a concealed panel to open off to the left. A section of wall trundled upward, one solid hunk of cloaked steel, a guillotine set to descend on an unsuspecting intruder.
He advanced into an eighteen-by-eighteen square secret room and eyed an arsenal fit for a ruler. Behind armored glass, a selection of deadly weaponry from ancient to state-of-the-art avant-garde lined an entire wall. A collector’s dream, a defender’s necessity.
The safe room was built of four-inch steel, had a dual-ventilation system, and housed all the high-tech cameras and equipment any Guardian could want. His gaze skimmed over the blade Njorth had found in India and sent to him as a gift. From the middle shelf in the center cabinet, he selected the five-inch, perfectly weighted knife, as well as a Glock and an appropriate custom holster that he strapped to his waist.
Awakening Fire: The Divine Tree Guardians (The Divine Tree Guardians Series Book 1) Page 3
