Restraint (The Revelation Series Book 2)

by Randi Cooley Wilson

  “Who?” Asher asks in a contemplative way.

  “I am afraid I do not know,” Michael replies, looking at me with sadness. “My intel suggests they are gargoyle though and not another supernatural.”

  At his answer, everyone begins to talk over everyone else. Asher shifts his focus to me and rakes me in with his eyes. My hands shake as I assess what the meaning of a traitor within the clans would be.

  “There is more,” the angel continues, commanding our attention. “At first, I did not believe the information to be truth. However, after this morning, I cannot disbelieve. It would seem your traitor has informed the Royal Gargoyle Council of Protectors you have committed a grave crime against their oaths.” His eyes are directly focused on Asher.

  Asher scoffs. “What crime would that be?” The question is thrown out with an arrogant air.

  “Forbidden love. You are a prince of the gargoyle race, a loyal protector, a royal member of the high council, and now a gargoyle who broke his oath to his kin and race,” the archangel answers with flatness to his tone.

  “Shit,” Callan says with force behind it, his blue eyes untamed.

  A low growl rumbles from Asher as he locks eyes with Michael. “I’ll deal with it. Thank you for the information, warrior of Heaven.”

  The archangel stands and bows once to Asher and then me. “Apologies. I am being called back. I will return as soon as I can. To be clear, I will neither confirm, nor deny the accusation of unsuitable associations between the two of you at this time. Not until I know which councils and members are trustworthy. That said, if I were you both,” his eyes move from me to Asher, “I would heed Priestess Arabella’s warning of restraint.”

  Michael dips his head in respect to the rest of the room before he thanks Fiona for her hospitable efforts and then takes his leave. Everyone sits motionless, processing the information we’ve been provided.

  Asher’s voice drops to a deep, even level. “I will only ask this once of my family. Is there anything anyone at this table would like to say to me with regard to the council or Eve?” He’s met with silence. “I accept your peace to be truth and acceptance then. I will not bring either up again. You have my word.” The other family members nod their acknowledgment.

  “Who would betray us to the council?” Abby inquires after a moment in a confused voice.

  “Gage?” Callan suggests with a scowl, laying his hands flat on the table.

  “No. It would be someone who has a lot to gain from Asher being removed as Eve’s protector,” Keegan answers. “Deacon.”

  Asher doesn’t comment one way or the other.

  At the consideration of Keegan’s words, I stand and release Asher’s hand in panic mode. “No. No. No.” Asher pushes to his feet at my sudden outburst, knowing where my mind is heading and grabs the sides of my head, preventing it from moving. My eyes widen at him with understanding. “The council will remove you as my protector and sentence you to stone petrification.”

  “Shh. Eve, stop. It’s okay,” he cajoles in an attempt to soothe me. “We’ve got this.” He doesn’t deny it.

  “My dream,” I shriek in desperation. At this, Asher crushes me to him in a tight embrace.

  Abby walks over to us. “Eve, the council would have been here the moment this was brought to their attention if they had any plans to remove Asher as your protector.” Her words are meant to pacify me, but I’m not calm. Intense fear radiates through me.

  “We will need to pull together a strategy to deal with the other clans. One that will give us opportunities to extricate this traitor.” Keegan tries to get everyone to focus.

  “Agreed. If everyone could give Eve and I a moment before we meet,” Asher requests as the other gargoyles in the room hesitate but then agree, leaving us alone. Fiona slips out with them.

  Asher stands in front of me, taking both my hands in his. He dips his chin and catches my eyes with his. “I need you to listen to me, Eve. No one in my family is the traitor. Understood?” His voice is firm and strong as he speaks to me.

  “Of course. I never thought differently. Someone, though, has tipped off the council, Asher,” I remind him, pushing down the fear that rises in me at what’s happening. “I agree with Keegan that it’s Deacon.”

  He takes in a sharp breath. “I know. Despite the fact that he isn’t working alone, it’s their word against ours. That’s what we have going for us right now. As a member of the council, I can tell you that we’re strict when it comes to oaths and laws, but fair. The council will not punish me if they can’t prove the accusations. I might have a plan, but you’re going to hate it.”

  I brace myself, knowing he’s about to drop something on me that probably is going to make me snap. “What is it?”

  “We need time to see who’s leaking information to Deacon. Once we figure that out, we’ll know who the traitor is and this won’t be hanging over our heads.” He pauses before he continues in a soft tone. “It might be best if we listen to Michael and Arabella for a short time.”

  I can’t hear anything except the pounding of my heart in my ears. “Meaning what, Asher?” I ask, my voice stern.

  “I’m merely suggesting that, in public, we keep our emotions and feelings for one another in check. It’s best not to give whoever is feeding the council information, fuel to hang me,” Asher explains in a pacifying voice. “When we’re behind closed doors, away from prying eyes, we can be open with one another.” He leans into my neck and nips at it. I try to focus on his idea and not the movement of his lips against my skin.

  “It makes sense. Although, I think we should try to show some self-control all the time, including behind closed doors,” I say as he stills and pulls back, watching me. “I’m just saying, I don’t want to take unnecessary chances with your life. Just until we figure out who’s betraying us.”

  “You don’t trust my family?” he questions, misunderstanding my intentions.

  “Asher, I trust them with my life,” I say with sincerity. “They’re my family too, you know,” I retort, keeping my need to punch him in the face at bay.

  He just stares at me. “Of course they are, siren. I’m sorry. I was just taken aback at your suggestion of no touching, at all. Like possibly for months, years, cen-” I cut him off with a soft kiss.

  His hands entwine in my hair, forcing my head to tilt as he leans in and deepens the kiss. A small hum of pleasure escapes me as my hands roam over his broad shoulders, pulling him closer to me. I breathe out, “I love you,” against his mouth. A raw, needy sound releases from him as he pulls back and says, “Forever.”

  I smile, understanding his meaning as he kisses each of my hands before slowly letting go. Standing a foot apart, his face meets mine with a charming grin. “Miss Collins, let’s go show some restraint.”

  21

  Restraint

  Restlessness is crawling through my veins, making me irritated and on edge. I’m like a drug addict in need of a fix. I hate this sensation. I detest every second of this plan. Restraint sucks. It’s been days since Asher has looked at or touched me. I’m starting to wonder if a person can go mentally insane from lack of physical contact. Pull it together, Eve. I scold myself.

  In my anxiety-driven state, I go into the training room to attempt to burn off some nervous energy. I decide kicking the shit out of the punching bag would most likely make me feel better. Two hours later, I’m drenched head-to-toe in sweat. It drips like rain water from my hair.

  I step back to catch my breath as my brain checks-in with my body. The jumpiness is still there. I step forward and start punching the bag again. My rage and frustration explodes with each connection my fists make.

  “You want a spotter?” Asher asks from the doorway. My heart clenches at the sound of his voice. I close my eyes and inhale, pushing my emotions down. I stiffen my posture and focus on the bag.

  “I’m good,” I say as I keep jabbing. My arms and legs are on fire. I don’t trust myself near him.

  In my pe
ripheral vision, I notice he’s dressed in black loose workout pants, his standard leather wristbands and a black t-shirt. The sudden urge to run into his arms becomes overwhelming, so I return my attention to the bag and beat it senseless.

  “Want to talk about why you’re kicking the shit out of the punching bag?” the hot gargoyle asks while coming up next to me. Asher’s eyes darken and glow as he drinks me in like a thirsty man. The muscle in his cheek is twitching like it does when he’s trying to control his emotions.

  “Nope,” I answer as I stop, bend down and pick up my water bottle. He’s watching me while I’m gulping down my water. His gaze follows my neck with each swallow of the liquid.

  Asher’s hand snaps out and curls in the bottom of my black tank top, pulling me toward him inch by inch. “I like this,” he says in a low, seductive voice as my body touches his. He stares at me for the longest time before cockily smiling. I lock my focus onto his lips. As they get closer, our breaths intermingle and my body hums in anticipation of his touch.

  “TIMES UP!” McKenna shouts from the doorway, startling both Asher and I as we jump away from one another. Damn stealthy gargoyles.

  “By the grace, Kenna,” Asher scolds her as she looks at him insolently. With a loud and long growl, he snaps up his towel from the floor and heads toward the door. “I’ll work out later.” With that, he leaves the room and I’m feeling empty again.

  McKenna’s head snaps to me. “Are you willing to die for him, or have him die for you? Because I promise you, that’s what will happen if the council figures out you two are shacking up.” Then she lands the final crushing blow. “You’ve seen the vision for yourself, blood of Eden. You’ve seen the council’s punishment for the violation of his oath.”

  She’s right. I have and protecting him is my sole focus. Without a word, I turn and head to my room for a long, cold shower and desperate diversion.

  After fighting hard to get my tunnel vision off Asher, I decide school is the perfect distraction. Spring classes begin shortly so I get organized by going online to download my eTextbooks and syllabuses then sign up with each professor via email. After, I run through each class description so I know what to expect. I haven’t been this prepared for classes since freshman year of high school.

  School proves to be a short-lived diversion. I decide to call my aunt to catch up. After the four hundredth time of her asking when I might be coming home, I’ve had enough and promise to call her later in the week. Sitting on the window bench, I stare out onto the gardens as my eyes drift to the lake. Shivering at the memory of Saraphina, I decide to go see if Callan can show me how to bake. Sad. But true.

  I pull open my door and notice across the hallway Asher’s door is slightly ajar. The light is on and I hear movement. I stop, close my eyes and inhale. My heart races at the knowledge he’s in there. When I have myself under control, I open my eyes only to be met with the sight of Asher’s shirtless back.

  Drowning in desperation and his attractiveness, I absorb every muscle and each line of the tattoo. He reaches for the waistband of his gym pants and begins to pull them down. I force my eyes away and run down to the kitchen, blushing.

  Callan is leaning against the counter when I run in like a bat out of hell. His eyes widen at the sight of me before I smooth myself out and ask if he wants to make some cookies. Standing there with his coffee in his hands, he smiles knowingly over the mug.

  “Let’s get geared up,” he says, walking to the pantry door and throwing an apron at me. That’s what I love about Callan. He never asks questions, just jumps in when you need him. Over the next few hours, we make about two dozen different batches cookies. This gargoyle proved to be an amazing distraction and I fully understand his need to bake as a pastime.

  The two of us are laughing hard while cleaning up the last remnants of the mess caused from our flour fight, so we don’t notice Asher until he clears his throat. We both look up and smile at him. Asher, on the other hand, looks angry, standing in the doorway with his hands in the front pockets of his jeans.

  “What’s going on?” His voice is tight as he eyes us.

  “Eves needed to bake,” Callan says, biting back another laughing fit.

  Asher pulls his brows together. “Bake?” The word rolls around his mouth like a bad taste.

  “Bake,” I repeat and wave my hand around the kitchen at the dozens of plates of cookies.

  “You should have some. They’re really good,” Callan says and kisses my cheek. “She must get her mad cooking skills from my side of the family.” He winks as I beam at the compliment.

  At his statement, that little tug which warms my heart whenever one of them includes me in their family knots tighter. “I see,” Asher says with a cool, detached tone.

  Callan studies Asher for a moment. “I’m going to go find Abby real quick. If I leave you two alone, remember the rules. No jumping the brooding gargoyle, cutie.” Callan bear hugs me, causing me to squeal.

  I swear I hear a growl come from Asher. Callan puts me back on my feet slowly and walks around Asher, guarded as he backs out the doorway. He must have heard the warning sound too.

  Asher walks into the room and plucks one of the cookies from the cooling rack. “So you and Callan…baked?” His voice is off as he chomps on the dark chocolate oatmeal cookie.

  Confused with his demeanor, I go to the fridge and grab the milk before pouring him a glass. “What, you don’t think I can handle a few cookies?” I ask, handing him the cup and our fingers brush. The slight touch causes the heat to rise through my body, making it warm and tingle with energy.

  Asher’s breath picks up at the same time. He gives me a look that suggests the cookie isn’t the only thing he wants to devour at the moment. With his eyes never leaving mine, he roughly sets down the glass and grabs my neck, pulling me toward his mouth. He stops just before his lips meet mine. His other hand clutches my lower back, but he doesn’t move closer.

  Instead, he lifts me onto the counter as my legs circle around his waist. In the position he desires, Asher’s hand moves across my throat sensually. My head falls back against the cabinet as I let out a soft whimper from his touch.

  Then, in a fast motion, he removes his hand and steps back. We’re both breathing hard. He just stares at me, panting as we both come to our senses. Without words, I slide off the counter and walk past him. We suck at self-control.

  Over the next few weeks, we manage to avoid one another. Asher spends most of his time in strategy meetings with the visiting clans, in business meetings with Callan and Keegan, or in the training room. I stay busy by training or focusing on school. Thank goodness classes have started and keep me pretty occupied. On rare occasions, we end up in the hallway or kitchen together and one of us has enough sense to leave. It’s been hard, to say the least.

  It doesn’t help that the other clans are around us more often in the house. We have to be careful about our interactions even more with prying eyes watching us with engrossed fascination. Each time I have to force a smile or interest in a clan member, it’s always in the back of my head that they might be the one working with Deacon.

  Marcus and Morgana are here a lot lately. It’s apparent that the Manhattan clan is a close ally of the London clan. Their relationships seem so easy with one another. Morgana’s presence brings a whole different emotional roller coaster that I need to control each time I walk into the room and she’s there. Though I have to admit, I’ve become really fond of Marcus. He’s entertaining and carefree. Being around him brings a sense of normalcy back to my life.

  Feeling lighter than I have in a while, I take the last step into the kitchen only to stop in my tracks at the sight of Morgana waiting for the coffee to brew, wearing one of Asher’s t-shirts. What the hell?

  Sensing my presence, she turns and offers me a phony smile. “Hi, Eve. Fiona is off today so I’m making coffee. I know how bad-tempered Asher is in the morning without his first cup.” I try to calm myself before I lunge at her and yank he
r extensions out.

  “I see,” I say, my voice cracking. The change of pitch doesn’t go unnoticed by her. Morgana’s bogus nice-girl-act grin grows wider, knowing she got to me. “I wasn’t expecting anyone from another clan to be here this early,” I mention in an even tone.

  “Our strategy meeting ran late. Deacon is one hard motherfucker to figure out,” she enlightens. “Anyway, Asher and I have history so it’s not uncommon for me to spend the night.” She turns back to the coffee maker.

  The bile in my throat rises along with my temper. I take a step toward her but stop when I hear Asher’s deep voice. “Eve?” I turn and lock furious eyes with him before I brush past him at a crazy fast pace. My blood is boiling.

  I hear him following, but I can’t stop. I rush up the stairs and slam into my room. My breathing is completely out of control. He walks in at a slow pace and closes the door before turning to me and knitting his brows. “What’s wrong?” Is he for real?

  The question shatters the last of my sanity and I attack him with my fists. He grabs each wrist and spins me so my back is against the door. Asher lifts my arms over my head, pinning me from another attempt at hitting him. He pushes his knee in between my legs to stop me from kneeing him.

  “Whatever conclusion you’ve come to, it’s wrong. Morgana, along with all the other clan members, stayed here last night after a late night strategy meeting. Normally, when we’re in London, they stay in the guest apartment. We don’t have that here, so she stayed with Marcus in the one of the spare rooms. That’s it, siren.” He holds me in place while I process the explanation.

  My heart finally stops pounding in my ears. I inhale and blow out a long breath and let go of the insane amount of irrational anger running through me. “What the hell is wrong with me? One minute I’m fine and the next I’m ready to rip someone’s face off? I can’t control my temper or emotions anymore,” I say in between shallow breaths.