This is the way it’s going to be.
When she’d come downstairs after discovering her father asleep, Venn hadn’t been in the house. With the car still in the drive, she’d assumed he’d taken off in the same way he’d come to her the other day—in the form of wolf or hawk. And she chose to think that meant he believed in her, too. Although it would have been nice if he’d given her a heads-up he was leaving. However, in her confident state, his departure didn’t bother her one bit.
Her father ambled into the room and took the other rocking chair. “Are you staying this time?”
“For now. It’s time we talked. Really communicated.”
“Okay. I’m listening,” he said, his face drawn and hollow.
Emma almost felt like she was taking on the role of the parent. She couldn’t pinpoint how she knew that role reversal came about, but it was definitely in play here. “There are certain things we agree on. One of them is that Grams is eighty-five years old and has lived a good life.”
Her dad nodded. “Yes. She lives the way she chooses.”
Emma felt a calmness wash over while something simmering inside her at the same time. And now it seemed as if the two elements were combating each other, like oil and water. She inhaled deeply and let the breath out slowly. “I remember when she decided to vacation in California a few years after Grandpa passed. You didn’t want her to, did you?”
“No, it’s not that. It was the driving cross-country on her own I didn’t approve of.”
“But she found a friend to tag along, and the two of them had a grand time.” Emma smiled, recalling the pictures of Grams and her friend with a couple of hot men in Las Vegas. She didn’t mention that memory to her dad.
“She was often too wild and outrageous,” he admitted.
“Dad, people have to be who they are deep down inside, not who others want them to be.”
“I know that.”
“Do you? How often have you tried to change Grams, or Mom, or me? You see your way as the only right way.”
His brow pinched. “I know I’m a hard-nosed SOB.”
“You can be. And I’m not happy the way we’ve drifted apart these last few years.”
He looked at her for the very first time since he sat. “Neither am I.”
“But like Grams, I have to live my life my way. And I need to be accepted for who I am.” Suddenly she wondered how the subject segued from her grandmother to her. “You know I’m speaking of my dreams, and—” she glanced down at her palms that even now were turning red “—my talent with metal.”
The movement of his rocking chair halted. “That still going on?”
“Yes. I’m dealing with it better now, understanding it more.” She hesitated, unsure how far she should go with this. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she decided today was a fork in the road for them: either he accepted her or he didn’t. She wasn’t going another moment pining for his love and approval. “You made me feel like a freak, you know. But I am who I am.”
She paused in her rocker, too, and the stillness in the room gave her goose bumps. She awaited his response.
“I know. I’ve fought it, but… I know you can’t change,” her dad said with a miserable catch in his voice.
Out of nowhere, her grandmother’s piano thrummed a single key.
Emma smiled to herself. Grams used to say it was Grandpa’s spirit trying to put his two cents in. But Emma chose to believe it was Grams this time, giving her a nudge. “Dad, you know we need to honor Grams’s wishes regarding her living will. You said you took it to your lawyer. Which means you saw it with your own eyes. She didn’t want to be kept alive by machines.”
He pressed his lips together and shook his head. “I can’t…do that.”
Emma leaned forward in the rocker, setting both feet on the solid ground, resting her elbows on her knees, and intertwining her fingers. Her voice was amazingly steady, considering what she was proposing. “We have to. Right now she’s lingering in between. She’s already gone, but we haven’t set her free.”
Her father stood rapidly, almost losing his balance. “No. There might be a chance for her. It happens.” He moved toward the kitchen.
“You’re only dragging out the inevitable. Believe me,” she said, her voice trembling as her defenses began to deteriorate. She swallowed and breathed through her nose. With the slightest bend of the truth, she added, “With the way you know I am, the things I see, I can emphatically tell you, she’s gone.”
He flipped his hand at her dismissively and continued running away into the kitchen. Emma rested back in her chair and squeezed her eyes shut. This whole debate was so incredibly painful.
After a moment, she got up and followed him. He stood at the sink with his hands braced wide on the counter and stared out the window.
“Think about it, Dad. But with you or without you, I will see Grams’s wishes honored. I’ve arranged to meet at the hospice center at nine o’clock tomorrow. My lawyer has obtained a copy of the living will. I hope you will be there. During trying times such as this, family really should stick together.”
He stared over her shoulder at her with that same tight-lipped expression from earlier, and she exited the side door without another word. She glanced around for Venn or one of his beasts. When she saw nothing, she headed to the garage out back and fired up her equipment. The urge to work, to create, swirled inside her.
The last time she’d worked on this piece, Grams had been doing the wash, fussing around the house. Now she was gone. For a reason Emma couldn’t explain, she felt a tremendous sense of peace. She wondered if this was wholly due to the Divine Tree, or maybe her Grams watched over her with a guiding hand. Or maybe it was her reincarnation that directed her to believe in such phenomenon as guardian angels. Perhaps that’s what was happening now. There were so many things she couldn’t explain in life.
Taking up the barbed wire, she began adding shape to the neck and chin. As time progress, she got lost in the process allowing her passion and awareness to surface and her hands began to get hot. Eventually, she put aside the torch and started to fine-tune the piece with her fingers. The metal glowed white-hot as she bent and shaped and fused the wire into the shape of a wolf.
Venn.
God, when would there be time for them?
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Waiting at the edge of the forest as long as he could stand it, Venn finally deemed his wounds healed enough to join her in the garage. He approached with silent steps, taking in the fluid way Emma shaped her work with her bare hands. He paused in the doorway and watched without interrupting.
Finally, she glanced up. “I wondered where you had gone.”
“I was restless.”
“More than restless, I suspect. You’re all beat up.”
He shrugged. “Comes with the territory.”
He walked deeper into the garage. “You’re making a wolf?”
“Yes.”
She stepped back admiring the piece. “I think it’s like the one you already have.”
He nodded, pleased that she remembered his art collection. Folding his arms, he leaned against a workbench set off to the side. “How did it go with your dad?”
She shrugged. “Better. We didn’t argue, at least. Not really. He still hasn’t given in to the fact that Grams is gone, but I think I made progress.”
“These things take time.”
Her mouth pulled to the side in a sad smile, and she returned to manipulating the wire. He enjoyed keeping her company. Seeing her talent and the way her hands squeezed and formed her work was so sensual. What would she make him feel if she touched him like that? She stopped, wiping her hands on a damp towel.
When their eyes met, it was like sparks from her welder, smoldering heat igniting between them. She moved toward him, and he met her halfway.
With a sense of urgency, he slid his hand into her hair, cupped her head, and drew her into a hungry kiss. She wrapped her arms about his neck, holding
him so close not even air separated them as her mouth explored his, warm, demanding, and devouring. A floodgate of emotion seemed to be released from within her, which given everything she’d been through lately, was understandable. Venn wanted to absorb her pain and give her something, maybe even pleasure, to replace it.
Locked mouth to mouth, they moved and turned, sidling back to the bare stretch of wood-planked wall in the shop, next to the workbench. Her arm caught a stack of pint-sized paint cans and sent them tumbling, but that didn’t stop the powerful whirl of desire they were in. He pressed her up against the wall and kissed her deeper, his tongue tangling with hers.
When he broke the kiss, she started stripping off her clothes in near desperation, peeling her shirt over her head. He strolled to the side and closed the garage door, shutting the world out. As he walked back to her, he followed her lead, shedding his own shirt, flipping it off to the side as he went. When he stopped in front of her, he helped undo her bra.
“I want you to touch me,” she whispered with need. She slid her hands up to hold her breasts to him. “Start here.”
Tense, sensitive, and aware of the raw hunger consuming both of them, Venn dipped his head and nuzzled his face between her breasts. He kissed the warm flesh of her sweet curves and licked her fair areola. He circled his tongue around her nipple until it peaked, then drew it into his mouth.
She moaned and tugged him closer. “More.”
He moved to the other breast, suckling harder. And that was the end of nice and easy. In a fury like wildfire, she pushed him back and unzipped her jeans. The sound had every molecule within him aching for the next move, his erection kicked and his balls grew heavy. While she wiggled out of her pants, he dropped his to his ankles.
He leaned into the hot searing kiss they shared. He slid his fingers between her legs and into her slick wetness, and thrust his tongue deep into her mouth. Her nails clutched his back, drawing him closer as she raised one leg high wrapping it around him, right with him on how this would go. He cradled her bottom and held her while she positioned him and slid down his length. “Oh God. So good.”
But this was not slow, languid sex. No, she wanted a wild, flyaway, take-me-to-another-Realm, make-me-forget-everything experience. Venn sensed it just as he knew his own thudding heartbeat. So he set a hard rhythm, hammering into her, using the wall to hold her to him as he drove deep inside her, expending full glides over her sweet, damp core. She bit down on his shoulder and moaned, long and intense. His breaths came harsh as he inhaled her scent and felt the early spasms of her climax. And then she exploded, her tightness milking him in rapturous pulses and pulls.
“Venn,” she cried, and he exploded so hard inside her that his body shook, every muscle straining and tightening with his release.
* * *
As Emma’s breathing returned to normal, she collapsed against his chest and circled her arms around him, holding on to him and this moment, not wanting to let go and return to reality. Eventually, she brushed her lips along his jaw until she reached his lips and kissed him, a raw outpouring of emotion.
She let her legs relax and he set her on her feet. She threw her head back until it rested against the wall and breathed. “Mmm, that’s just what I needed.”
He looked at her with those hot, smoldering eyes and said in a husky voice, “Anytime.”
She could have melted into him all over again. Instead, she got dressed, as did he. She was terribly disappointed when his shirt slid over his broad shoulders.
Once they were clothed, he straightened the cans they’d knocked over. Resting his hand on the final one, he peered at her. “Emma, we need to talk.”
Now what? “Okay,” she said, hesitantly.
“The reason you came to Tyler was because of the statue and participating in the park ceremony.”
“Yes, and to visit Grams as she arranged the entire thing.”
He shook his head. “No, I don’t think that’s the case. Io set this entire event up. He used your grandmother to get to you.”
“The project is overseen by a committee,” she reasoned.
“Which is head up by Jacob Price.”
“Grams was so excited by this project. I…I have to honor my commitment.”
“I promised your grandmother I’d keep you safe.” He clenched his fist, feeling helpless to convince her. “I think there’s something dangerous there. Jacob isn’t who he seems.”
He hesitated, a darkness entering his eyes. She didn’t understand what force was holding him, but sensed something was. “Who is he then? You keep saying that, but you’ve given me no explanation.”
“He’s…someone dangerous. The ultimate con artist. And he’s deadly. He’s killed before.”
She gasped. “Killed? Who?”
Venn evaded her gaze and shoved his hands into his pockets. He couldn’t lie to her, but he still couldn’t tell her the whole truth. “That doesn’t matter right now. But you need to trust me. Jacob is out to destroy the Divine Tree, or me, and hurt you in the process. That much I’m certain. And you can stop him by not participating in his plan.”
A sense of disbelief nipped at her. What he said seemed too farfetched. And yet, wasn’t a shape-shifting Guardian just as implausible? She placed her hand on her stomach to stop from gagging. The indecision and uncertainty was stressing her out even more. “I’ll think about it. But first I need to get through what we need to do for Grams.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Venn walked along side Emma as the automatic doors that led into the hospice center opened. In the lobby, they paused and she leaned her forehead against his, and let her frustrations seep out of her and into him. He was ready to absorb her tension. He’d gladly take all of her pain away if he could. Last night she’d slept fitfully, tossing and turning, and whenever she’d let him, he cradled he up against him and attempted to sooth her doubts.
“I’m so sorry you have to go through this,” he said, pressing his lips to her forehead.
She gave him a small, forced smile. “I know. Thanks.”
She blew out a nervous breath and straightened as they turned and walked through the entrance. The center was a gorgeous, state-of-the-art facility, nothing like what it represented. Rough-hewn stone covered the outer walls and seamlessly along the interior, carrying the natural theme into the halls. In the lobby, a fountain gurgled a rhythmic tune. To Emma, it was just extraneous noise she couldn’t grab hold of past the erratic beating of her heart.
A few minutes later, they entered a spacious, private room that had a sofa with seating area and small dining table. French doors opened onto a small patio filled with greenery.
Emma hugged her arms to her chest as she peered across the room at her unresponsive grandmother. The ventilator whooshed, and with it, she noticed the abnormally steady rise and fall of Grams’s chest.
“I’m glad there’s a view,” Emma said. “Grams would have liked that.”
She moved to the bedside and tried to control her own breathing. It was so sad to see her lively, vivacious grandmother like this. She smoothed back the auburn hair along Grams’s temple. Today was Friday, her usual weekly salon day when she would get her hair fixed for the weekend.
Emma picked up her grandmother’s hand and smoothed the back of it with her own. “She was in great shape for eighty-five.”
Venn moved closer to stand behind Emma. “Yes, she was.”
“Active in the community, too.” Emma swallowed. “I have to see the statue placed in the park. She was so excited about that project.”
Venn’s hands tightened on her shoulders. “Do you think your father will show up?”
“I don’t know. I told him nine o’clock and that your lawyer had obtained a copy of the living will. And that we were going to honor it and disconnect the life support whether he wanted it or not.”
* * *
Venn didn’t need to check the clock to know the time. That sort of thing was intrinsic to his nature. It was quarter
to nine. The clap of shoes on tile grew louder as they came down the corridor toward him. But he could tell by the sound and tempo of the steps that it wasn’t Emma’s father. No, it was Kianso, delivering their copy of the paperwork.
Venn left Emma and met his friend near the door. “Thanks, man,” he said, taking the packet the lawyer passed to him.
“Is there anything else I can do?” Kianso asked.
“I don’t think so,” Venn said, then faced the bed. “Emma, would you like me to deliver these to the staff?”
She padded over to him and held her hand out for the folder. When he gave it to her, she pulled out the copy of the living will. “I know what she wanted. But I just need to see the directive with my own eyes.”
Venn nodded. “Understandable.”
Emma perused the paper, then glanced between the two men. “This is indeed my grandmother’s signature. Will you give it to the staff and make the arrangements to honor this?”
“Of course,” Venn answered. “As your lawyer, Kianso will speak to them now.” He looked to his friend. “If you don’t mind?”
Kianso shook his head. “Not at all.”
“Thank you,” she replied, and returned to her grandmother’s side.
Venn and Kianso stepped out of the room, took care of the business with the staff, and then Kianso left after again offering his condolences. When Venn reentered the hospice room, Emma was speaking in soft tones to her grandmother, saying her good-byes.
Look at that. My gray hair is already showing. Claire Grant’s spirit hovered off to the right.
Venn smiled at the woman. Hello, Claire, he voiced through his mind.
I’m going to miss that girl, the old woman said.
Can I tell her you’re here?
Awakening Fire: The Divine Tree Guardians (The Divine Tree Guardians Series Book 1) Page 21
