Awakening Fire: The Divine Tree Guardians (The Divine Tree Guardians Series Book 1)

by Larissa Emerald

  As every detail flickered in her mind, the next thing she knew Venn’s arms replaced hers against her ribs, slipping around her from behind. She leaned back against him, his solid chest achingly familiar. Turning in his embrace, she slid a hand into his hair, drew him to her, and kissed him in desperation.

  He emitted a low, throaty growl as he claimed her mouth and crushed her against him. Something touched her soul deep, building inside of her. She wanted Venn with everything she was now...and everything she was before. Even if she didn't know how that was possible. She met the thrust of his tongue, lap for lap, loving the way he kissed her with deep, frantic hunger.

  His hands splayed across her back, sliding over her ribs, up to her shoulder blades, and down cupping her bottom, holding her in closer, tighter. His lips sucked and drew on hers as he pulled back. She made a little sound deep in her throat.

  He touched her heart in more ways than she imagined...the universe shifted with such a kiss, it had the sort of power that made tides ebb and flow, earthquakes shudder, and volcanoes erupt. And it transported her into a complex reality with the capacity to love beyond anything she'd known. Oh, how she longed to discover all Venn had to offer.

  Slipping an arm beneath her knees and the other supporting her ack, he lifted her and carried her to the bed. He paused to rain soft kisses over her cheek and jaw until he ended at her mouth again, and delicately fanned her lips with his tongue. Her knees grew weak as he set her down and began to slowly peel off her clothes. He eased the draped-neckline of her sweater lower over one shoulder, his mouth trailing where his fingers had been, kissing her and feathering his tongue. She inhaled a shaky breath. Ooo. With tension building in her tummy, she helped him shed her clothes, meeting his gaze and searching his ever-changing golden eyes.

  When she stood nude before him, he made a low, guttural sound and allowed his gaze to glide over her in the most provocative manner, as if he were making love to her with only his eyes. She shivered.

  Two could play this sensual game, and the thought excited her even more. She put her palm on his chest, right over his heart and felt its thudding beat. Then she bunched his shirt in his hands, tugging the fabric over his head. He had to tip forward in order to allow her to accomplish the task. Her arm grazed his warm skin, sending delightful shivers dancing through her. His pants were next, and she discovered to her surprise that he didn't wear undergarments. She let her gaze run over him, savoring her first glimpse of his honed chest that narrowed into a six pack, and dip lower, eyeing the fullness of his erection. Oh, he was magnificent.

  He entwined his fingers in her hair, framing her face as he drew her closer. "My mate," he whispered into her mouth. "Emma."

  As he kissed her, he took her with him down onto the mattress. Rolling them both into the center of the bed, ending with him on top, he braced himself on his forearm. With his other hand, he stroked up the length of her body, from hip to breast, pausing to trace delightful circles around her areola. Her pulse spiked, and her breath went ragged.

  He plucked at her nipple, rolling it between her fingers, and as he did so, lowered his head to take its partner into his mouth. Ah, it felt so good, already tiny pulses were pinging through her sex. She hooked a leg over his hip. And he sucked a tweaked her nipples harder.

  When he raised his head, she heard him draw a long breath through his nostrils. Coupled with the burning look in his eyes, he seemed primal, urgent, hungry. He slid his hand down her belly, burying his fingers in the curls. Caught up in driving desire, she parted her legs as he dipped his fingers into her secret folds. He began a slow rhythm, sliding them in long strokes in and out over her wet clit, then every so often he'd change it up, circling the bud until she pressed her hips into his fingers.

  His touch sent shockwaves through her, and as she came, he kissed her and growled into her mouth. She felt the vibrations in groan all the way into her throat.

  He shifted then, positioning himself fully over her and finding her opening, gently sliding inside her. She arched and curled into him as he entered her slick, ready channel, filling her with his thick manhood. And then they began moving in unison, a natural retreat and thrust that took her higher with every long glide, until the tempo increased, and they both were panting.

  She climaxed, hot electric sensations, striking her core and pulsing into her limbs, into her tummy, into her chest. He came right at the peak of her strongest wave. She watched him throw his head back as he drove into her deeply, the cords of his neck straining. His massive torso shuddered. "Emma," he cried.

  She dug her fingers into his shoulder, holding onto the exquisite sensations as long as she could until he collapsed into an exhausted, entangled heap.

  When their breathing returned to normal, he muttered, "Oh, Jesus. That was even better than what we had once upon a time."

  She winced. And as he curled her into his body, cradled in his strong arms, she wondered if there would always be that comparison. Or if there would ever come a day where it would simply be Emman and Venn.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Io cloaked himself as he impatiently waited in the corner of Mrs. Grant’s hospital room. He’d flown around for hours contemplating his options. But he kept returning to the old lady as the best means of distraction. If Emma was worried about her grandmother, then she’d give less thought to Venn and be preoccupied enough to perhaps do exactly as Io instructed.

  During the altercation in the park, he’d felt the strength of their bond. And, Satan’s eyes, it worried him.

  It was past midnight, and the new shift nurse had just exited following a routine vital-sign check. Io listened to the fading slap of footfalls from the hallway and waited.

  Silence.

  Satisfied he wouldn’t be interrupted, he materialized. Mrs. Grant’s eyes were closed but he knew she wasn’t asleep. A moment ago she’d expressed her desire for real coffee with breakfast.

  Such trivial things to worry about.

  Without making a sound, Io walked to stand beside the hospital bed. And Grannys’s peepers popped right open.

  He smiled. “Good evening, Mrs. Grant.”

  “Visiting hours are over,” she said, eyes narrowing on him suspiciously. She turned her head more fully toward him.

  Smart old bird.

  “Those rules are for ordinary men,” he said, and chuckled. And of course they don’t apply to him.

  She blinked and brushed the gray hair from her forehead, then made a pinched face and touched the IV tube in the back of her hand. “Oh, it’s you, Mr. Price,” she said, finally recognizing him. “The dedication. How is it all going? I’m so disappointed I’m going to miss it.”

  “Yes. Emma isn’t happy about that. Least of her worries, though.”

  “What do you mean?” She tried to push up on one elbow.

  “Never mind.”

  Mrs. Grant pursed her lips. “She’s such a talented girl. That statue is going to be gorgeous in the park.”

  “Indeed.”

  “She’s smart, too.” Her eyes lit with pride.

  “Yes, and that is just too bad.”

  Her almost-invisible brows lifted, like two mirrored question marks.

  Io sneered. “I need you to give Emma a message for me.”

  “Oh?”

  Losing patience with all this chitchat, he put on his game face—dark, sinister, evil. He leaned over, moving the call button out of her reach.

  His voice deepened and warped as he began to transform from human form into a larger-than-life owl.

  Granny inhaled sharply, her eyes round as poker chips. Her hand came to her throat as if she was having difficulty breathing.

  Excellent. Scaring her to death. What an extraordinary plan.

  Io extended his wings over her for dramatic affect. Yes, Mrs. Grant’s face muscles twitched as she obviously made the connection between her accident and him. “It was you,” she screeched.

  He threw his voice out into the room, giving it an echo effec
t. “Yes. It was me. Venn and Emma are getting too chummy. So I’ve devised a way to alleviate that. And you are going to help me. Venn will find he’s no match for me.”

  “What? Emma,” she choked out. “Emma…warn—”

  One of her monitors blared, and she glanced at it.

  Fuck. This was taking too long. Io’s feathers changed into a barghest’s slick, black fur, and he let loose a vicious growl.

  She clutched her head with trembling hands. As she did so, the IV tube caught on the bedrail and was torn from her skin, oozing blood across the sheets.

  “Em—” Her body stilled, limbs collapsing, lungs expelling a final breath.

  Another alarm blared, which to him sounded like…satisfaction.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  The morning greeted Emma with a majestic radiance of blue sky and sun-kissed clouds. Perfect. She inhaled a dreamy breath. Absolutely perfect.

  She lay with her head on Venn’s shoulder, his arm wrapped from underneath her, cradling her into his side. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows the world returned to life.

  At the moment she felt secure, giddy, loved. Her hand skimmed over the raised tattoo where it met his shoulder. She'd noticed it last evening but was too involved with their lovemaking to inquire further. "Turn over," she said, giving him a little push. "I want a closer look at the ink on your back."

  "It's not ink. It comes from the Divine Tree." He rolled onto his side, presenting his back to her.

  "Wow." She traced the pads of her fingers over the branches of the tree, understanding what he meant. The tattoo rose from the skin like welts or perhaps a brand, in shades of brownish-black and gray, the color of bark on an oak. "Has it always completely covered your back?"

  "No. Over the years it's grown and spread."

  She leaned in and lightly kissed along a branch-line above his should blade. He moaned, and his tense muscles relaxed beneath her hands.

  Her cell phone chimed a familiar rhythm.

  “Let it go,” he murmured.

  She did and snuggled closer against him, slipping her palm across his ribs on a deep sigh.

  “Mmm,” he groaned.

  A comfortable silence filled the air until the trill went off again. This time she could even hear the thing vibrating on the table. No way could she ignore it.

  She scrambled over the mattress and snatched the disheveled sheet as she went. After a few quick steps, her feet moved from the plush rug beneath the bed to the cold marble floor. She shivered as she grabbed the phone.

  With a swipe of her thumb to unlock the screen, she raised it to listen. “Hello?”

  Silence greeted her. Perhaps they’d hung up.

  In a playful mood, she turned to face the bed and her breath caught at the sight of Venn, lounging gloriously naked. He made a dramatic show of waggling his brows at her and clasping his hands behind head, obviously ready and willing for a bit of morning exercise.

  “Emma.” Her father’s voice on the other end of the phone wiped the silly grin right off her face as if she’d been slapped.

  “Yeah, Dad.” She folded her arms over her breasts and searched for her clothes. Venn immediately lunged for his pants and donned them.

  “Where are you?” her father asked. “You didn’t come home?”

  “What’s up?”

  “The hospital just called. Your grandmother has taken a turn for the worse.”

  Her thoughts slammed into a barricade as her pulse kicked up, stunned. “But…but she was doing so much better yesterday.”

  “I know. I know.”

  “I’ll leave right now.” With a numbness consuming her entire body, beginning in her heart and ending at her fingertips, she hit the “end” button.

  Venn was at her side in no time, taking her by the arm, guiding her sideways, encouraging her to sit down. “What happened?”

  “He didn’t say exactly. Something has gone wrong with Grams.”

  “I’ll drive you to the hospital.”

  “Why didn’t they call me? They have my cell number,” she said, trying to hold it together.

  “He’s her son. The next of kin.”

  She shook her head. Grams had made every concert. Emma had always been closer to Grams than her father had. “The hospital didn’t call him when she fell in the well.”

  “But he’s here now.”

  “Oh… Yeah. You’re probably right. I’m just not thinking straight.”

  “Well, naturally you’re upset.” He stood before her holding her clothes. She’d totally missed him collecting them. “Here are your things. Take a moment to shower and get yourself together. It may be a long day.”

  She found her legs shaky, and he helped her to the bathroom. He kissed her brow. “Everything will be fine.”

  Drawing on his strength, she nodded. “I hope you’re right.”

  * * *

  When they arrived on the ICU floor, Emma encountered Dr. Myer at the nurse’s station.

  “I’m so sorry, but your grandmother’s status has changed. Let’s go in here and I’ll explain.” With a hand on her shoulder, he guided her into a nearby waiting room.

  A turn for the worse.

  She took a seat and clasped her hands together so hard her knuckles turned white. Venn sat next to her.

  “Your grandmother has had a massive stroke. It happens on rare occasions with head injuries. Although, I must say, I’m surprised in this case. I had thought we were nearly in the clear.”

  Emma shook her head as her stomach and chest tightened. If she heard the diagnosis, then it would be real.

  He spoke of the type of stroke Grams had suffered, of being brain dead and saying it was time to take a look at her living will. Emma nodded and swallowed hard, although there wasn’t a drop of moisture in her throat. She heard his clinical words, then more words of apology, yet she felt like a kid in a carnival fun house, trying to figure out where the sound was coming from and which direction she needed to move in order to escape.

  At some point, she became aware of Venn slipping his firm hand into hers as they stood. She thought she led the way but wasn’t sure. Out in the hall, it seemed like a long way to Grams’s room. Venn draped his arm around her shoulder and tugged her close to his side as they walked.

  At her grandmother’s doorway, Emma paused to dip her head in. She was not at all ready for this.

  Her dad sat on the hospital bed holding Grams’s unmoving hand. Emma couldn’t go in just yet. She just couldn’t.

  The unfamiliar mood that emanated from her father shocked her. He seemed vulnerable, with a softness to him she rarely, if ever, saw. She clutched a fistful of Venn’s shirt at his back while her father spoke.

  “I should have told you yesterday,” he said, still unaware of their presence.

  Emma realized what was happening. Unfinished business and regrets. She inhaled slowly as a shudder of anguish ran through her.

  Her father heard it and turned his head, the private moment broken. She entered with hesitant steps.

  “Dr. Myer filled me in. There is no hope of her recovering.” Her mouth trembled, and she sank her teeth in her lower lip, fighting for control.

  “It’s okay to let go,” Venn said, giving her a squeeze.

  A shaky breath escaped her lips.

  Her father stood. “No…no. We just have to give her time.”

  “What?” Emma couldn’t believe her ears. If ever there was a time she wanted her father to be right, this was it. But one look at Grams and she knew her favorite person in the entire world had left them. She felt the emptiness in her heart. And Mr. Tell It Like It Is was smoothing over the truth. She glanced at Venn, who slowly shook his head. Their eyes met and no words were need for them to communicate. He knew, as she did, that her grandmother was gone.

  “Dad, as much I’d love for her to get better, time isn’t going to help anymore. Her brain isn’t working.” She paused, struggling with the next words she had to push out. “Grams has a living will. We have
to honor it.”

  “No. No. There are ways to contest that. All I need is a few days.” He stared down at his mother, sadness creating deep lines on his face.

  “That’s not what she would have wanted and you know it. She wouldn’t want to be trapped in a body, not really living.”

  He snatched his jacket from the back of the chair and then brushed past her toward the doorway, saying, “I best get to it. Dr. Myer already confirmed that we will have to move her to a hospice facility.”

  Emma followed him, grabbing his arm as he gripped the door handle. “No. Not this time. You won’t have your way this time. You have a problem accepting things. But this time Mom isn’t going yield to your demands, and I’m not going to run away in order to hide my special abilities, and Grams is not going to come back to life.”

  His jaw clenched, and he defiantly raised his chin, then fled into the hall.

  She caved inward as if she’d been punched in the chest, all the tears and agony that had been building inside her letting go in a landslide of sorrow. With a wretched cry, she turned to Venn, and he gently encircled her within his big arms. She mashed her face into his chest and sobbed.

  * * *

  “Losing someone you love is never easy,” Venn said, rubbing his palm up and down Emma’s back. He’d nearly lost his mind when he’d had to go on living without her.

  He held her while she came to terms with this new change in her life. He wished he could do more, wipe away her sorrow. Her shoulders shook, her rib cage hitched, her tears soaked his shirt. And like everything else Emma did, she threw her whole self into her grief.

  His vision skipped around the room as she clung to him, taking in the picture on the wall of a blue-green ocean and palm trees, watching the rise and fall of Mrs. Grant’s chest in sync with the whooshing sound of the respirator, and eyeing the elderly women’s belongings lined up on the hospital tray. Things she would no longer need. And there, next to a pair of glasses, sat a feather.

  He leaned in to get a closer look, even though the sickening bite in his stomach already told him what he needed to know.