Restoration

by Randi Cooley Wilson

  Aria just continues to watch me with a perplexed look. “You and I were childhood friends, before college. Did you know that?” Her chocolate irises study my expression.

  “Were we?” I ask with skepticism lining my tone. I must have really whacked my head.

  “You’ve known me in the present as Aria, but from ages one to eighteen, I was your friend . . . Courtney,” she explains in a gentle tone.

  I release an odd laugh. “Courtney? My childhood friend, since preschool?”

  “Yes.” Aria shifts on the bench in irritation.

  “Crap. Someone must have slipped me something. Did I drink at a party?”

  Aria ignores me and continues. “The Angelic Council assigned me to protect you at your birth. Elizabeth and Michael felt it was important you have a normal childhood, hence why I took on the façade of Courtney. It made it easier to guard you. Besides, they thought if you grew up experiencing a mundane life, you would have a solid understanding of, and compassion for, mankind. Skills to help you restore the balance when the time came to face the revolution.”

  Elizabeth. Strangely, at the sound of my aunt’s name, a tortured pain builds in my chest.

  My lips part slightly. “Aria, no offense, but nothing you’re saying at the moment makes any sense. I mean, you’re trying to convince me that up until I was eighteen you were someone else. By the way, Courtney attends Stanford now and looks nothing like you.” I hold her unwavering silent stare. “You’re using words like archangels, the Angelic Council, and protection. You sound insane,” I point out. “Restore the balance? Revolution? Do you need my help to get your spirit to Heaven or something?” I ramble.

  Aria spits her gum angrily into her hand before placing the pink wad under the bench.

  “Hey, that’s littering,” I scold.

  She rolls her eyes. “It’s a realm that you’ve created. In. Your. Mind. Eve.”

  “Meaning?” I ask tersely.

  “Meaning it’s not real. It’s in your head. YOU are trapped your head.” Her voice is heated.

  “Dream or not, don’t litter,” I chastise. “It’s bad for the environment.”

  “Realm. Not dream,” she corrects in annoyance. “And for the love, try to focus.”

  “Whatever,” I retort, not wanting to fight with my dead best friend.

  “The Angelic Council granted you divine protection until age eighteen, at which time I was to be removed as your guardian. When your birthday came, Michael and Elizabeth were not ready to tell you about your bloodline because they felt you were unprepared. They’d hoped you would get settled in at college first. Make sense?” she asks, hopeful.

  “Ah, no, Aria. It doesn’t,” I reply.

  “The council didn’t call me back right away. Michael assumed they’d changed their minds. Just to be sure though, he hired,” Aria pauses and searches for the words, “outside protectors. When you started having your nightmares, Michael allowed me to stay on, until the council officially removed me. We sent your childhood friend, me, as Courtney, off to Stanford, and I took on my true form as Aria, so I could attend Kingsley College with you,” Aria says. “As your guardian.”

  She’s lost her mind. I smile awkwardly. “So, you were Courtney, and now you’re Aria. Back from the dead, to bring me home.” I laugh-snort.

  Aria narrows her eyes at me. “Don’t freak, but your sass has asked for this.”

  In an instant, she morphs into my childhood friend, and my jaw falls.

  “Holy shit,” I exhale.

  A few seconds later, she turns back to Aria. “See. Courtney and Aria.”

  I press my fingers into my temples to ward off a migraine that is coming on too fast.

  “What the hell, Aria!” I shout.

  “I’m sorry. I figured I could just explain and you would understand how this works, but for the love, you are so stubborn,” she blathers on.

  “I’m just confused. Ghosts morphing into my old friends isn’t helping,” I bite out.

  She exhales and nervously bounces her legs up and down. “I wish I could tell you everything, Eve. Just show you your memories, but I can’t. It’s against the rules.”

  “What rules?” I ask harshly.

  Aria stands abruptly and darts her hand out for me to take. “Come with me.”

  I frown at the gesture.

  “You can trust me,” she huffs.

  I stare at her for what feels like an eternity.

  “Take my hand, Eve, and let me guide you home.”

  “What if I’m not ready to go home?” I pin her with a glare. “If I’ve created this realm, as you say I have, then there has to be a good reason I’m still here, right?”

  “You’re hiding. I’m sorry, but you have to see this through,” she replies in a stern tone.

  We stare at one another for a moment in a standoff before I reluctantly give in.

  Aria snaps her hand toward me again. “I promise, your journey is almost over.”

  After a minute of silence, my shoulders sag. “Fine,” I murmur, placing my hand in hers.

  She wiggles her eyebrows at me. “Close your eyes until I tell you to open them.”

  “Aria.” I sigh.

  “Just trust me, Eve. I’ve got you, I promise.”

  I swallow at her familiar words and do as I’m told, sliding my eyelids closed. Warm gushes of air hit me, and instantly, I feel myself dissolve, evaporating into thin air. I shiver at the thought.

  Aria whispers in my ear a few seconds later. “Go ahead, open your eyes.”

  I blink my lids open and take in the thriving gardens. Gone is Kingsley College. In its place is a backdrop of natural beauty in the form of exquisitely colorful flowers and flourishing vegetation, with paths guarded by tall, white birch trees and a crystal blue lake. The sun’s golden rays illuminate the floral oasis, bathing us in warmth and pure light.

  Twirling in a circle, I take everything in. My gaze lands on a marble bench, sitting under a blooming cherry tree. A few of the pink blossoms have fallen elegantly onto the white stone and dirt ground. A ping of recognition hits me, but then it quickly vanishes.

  “How in the . . .” I trail off.

  Aria shrugs. “It’s a perk of being a guardian angel.”

  “Where are we?” I question in awe.

  “Wiltshire, England.” Aria’s voice is barely a whisper. “You’re home, Eve.”

  “Home?” The word falls out of me like it’s a foreign sound.

  “Siren?” a deep, masculine voice full of anguish says from behind us.

  I turn and come face-to-face with the most beautiful set of full, kissable lips I’ve ever seen. I lift my gaze and meet the tortured expression of the very attractive owner of said mouth, which is pulling into a sexy smile and literally melting me from the inside out.

  Twinkling indigo eyes are outlined in long, thick, dark lashes, fanning perfect cheeks. Feeling my own cheeks heat under his gaze, I pull my eyes from his and instead take him in.

  The top of his hair is long and dark brown, styled in sexy, messy pieces. My fingers twitch, itching to run through the soft strands. Wait, how do I know they’re soft? He dips his chin at me, and a small frown line appears between his distinguished brows.

  The sudden urge to smooth out the worry line and comfort him overwhelms me. Instead, I stiffen my stance, trying to control the urge to curl myself into his muscular arms.

  The intimidating man clenches his five-o’clock-shadowed, chiseled jawline in response to my silence. Watching me, he anxiously runs his hand over a striking Celtic cross tattoo on the inside of his right forearm. I study the movement and swallow my increasing desire when I notice two black leather bands, one on each of his wrists, adorned with onyx.

  I try to compose myself as my gaze roams over the body covered in a white t-shirt, worn jeans, and black motorcycle boots. Holy shit. I know who this guy is. I inhale and pull air into my lungs before I pass out and embarrass myself.

  At the sharp intake of air, I catch
his scent of smoky wood and leather.

  “See something you like, siren?” he asks, half-amused, half-confused.

  We hold one another’s gaze for what feels like an eternity. I get the impression his question is a game that he and I play. For whatever reason, I don’t know the rules this time.

  I drop my eyes and turn to Aria. “Why is the hot guy from my architecture class here?”

  After an awkward silence beats between the three of us, the good-looking guy speaks.

  “The guy from her architecture class?” his smooth voice repeats, pronouncing every word.

  I snap my gaze back to his, curious as to why his brows are knitted and he looks like he’s ready to light the world on fire at the sight of me. At his expression, I’m hit with déjà vu.

  “Aria?” The striking man looks to her for confirmation.

  “She doesn’t remember, Asher,” Aria offers as a form of explanation.

  Asher’s deep, intense stare lands on me again. Pain. Guilt. Sadness. They all cross his beautiful face before he nods once to her in understanding. “Then I’ll help her to.”

  I narrow my eyes at him. “I don’t need your help. I don’t even know you, pretty boy.”

  The Adonis prowls toward me and lowers his voice to a sensual tone. “You know me.”

  My heart slams against my rib cage at his intensity. “I don’t,” I whisper.

  “No?” he asks, looming over me.

  “No,” I barely manage to choke out.

  Asher cups my face with his hands. They’re warm, strong, and at the same time, demanding.

  “Ilem jur pri tú-tim, ew tú-tim pri pos-tim ali ide in-zen, mání, vas-wís, ew ter-ort. Esta-de ai esta Ilem de, Ilem pos-tim in-saengkt pri, tú-tim,” he says, staring deeply into my eyes.

  “Asher St. Michael, do not push her,” Aria warns.

  Asher ignores her and steps even closer to me. His nerve-racking presence, and something else I can’t quite place, causes me to shudder as goose bumps appear all over my skin.

  “Cold?” his deep, cocky voice taunts me in a familiar way.

  “Stop,” I mutter the plea. My head begins to fog and a dull throb forms behind my eyes.

  Aria tries to step to my side, but Asher holds up a hand, stopping her from moving.

  “Do I make you anxious, Eve?” he continues, allowing a thumb to trace my bottom lip.

  With every word he emits, a heaviness fills my chest. My vision blurs and I sway slightly. Gentle yet strong arms wrap around my waist, holding me steady.

  “I’ve got you, siren,” he whispers.

  Asher’s minty breath blows over my lips, causing them to part and breathe him in.

  “I . . . I don’t know you,” I speak softly. Do I?

  “Tas ámotas.” Asher’s voice is a sad plea. His gentle hands clasp either side of my neck while his thumbs tilt my chin upward so he can brush his mouth over mine in a tease.

  I release a small whimper at the light caress.

  “I will protect you, always,” he promises across my lips.

  I squeeze my eyes shut as they begin to fill with water. The visions and his words are too much. I shake my head in terror when a searing pain makes itself known on my lower back.

  “Please stop,” I beg.

  “No. I gave you my word. I would pull you from the darkness and always bring you home.” He ignores my request, not backing down. “You’re home. Now come back to me.”

  “I don’t . . .” I stutter a bit, not sure what’s happening.

  “It’s okay, Eve. It’s just your memories coming back,” Aria explains gently.

  I step away from Asher. My body is trembling, and it feels like my heart and soul are splitting inside me. “Stop!” I say firmly. “It’s too much. I don’t know you!”

  His expression falls. After a moment, he nods and takes a step back, giving me space.

  “Eve.” Aria comes into my sightline. “It’s okay. You’re safe. Asher will protect you.”

  “I don’t remember him, Aria,” I bark automatically, not really meaning it. There is something familiar and safe about him. I do feel protected. I just can’t work through the haze and lack of memories in my head. Crap. I rub my lower back. Why the hell is it pulsing?

  “You do. And it’s time that you do,” Aria says, squeezing my hand. “Hey, hot stuff.” She looks over her shoulder. “Show her the gargoyle protector tattoo, would you?”

  My eyes shift between Aria and Asher. “Gargoyle. Protector. Tattoo,” I repeat.

  Unsure, Asher studies my dead friend for a brief moment before locking eyes with me and grabbing the hem of his t-shirt. With one tug, it’s off, and I’m left breathless at his raw beauty. I swear, his perfect chest and stomach just made me lose IQ points by staring at it.

  “Look at his heart, Eve,” Aria prompts.

  My gaze shifts to his chest and my breath escapes through parted lips. Tattooed over Asher’s heart is the black, circular, barbed-wire dragon I’ve been sketching. Silently, I walk around Aria toward him. He stiffens, watching every one of my moves as I approach.

  I lift my hand to the tattoo, and with my index finger, trace the design. Asher’s eyes slide closed, blissfully. As soon as I make skin-to-skin contact, my lower back begins to throb like a heartbeat, syncing with his.

  Images flash through my head in rapid succession. Vows of protection. Promises of forever. Murmurs of adoration. Declarations of love. Asher devouring me, kissing me like I’m the air he breathes. A tattoo on my lower back that matches his perfectly. A mate mark.

  “What the hell?” I whisper, and quickly remove my hand, as if his skin shocked me.

  All the images dissolve immediately at the abrupt end of my contact with him.

  I step back and feel Aria’s palms on my shoulders. “Asher is your protector, Eve.”

  “My protector?” I repeat, confused.

  “Yours,” Asher states in a firm and resolved manner.

  “Wait.” I spin to face Aria and scan her face. “I thought you were my guardian?”

  “I am, but you are his. And he is yours,” she responds in riddle.

  “Won’t you be with me now?” I ask.

  Sadness glides across her face. “I was called back. It’s why I saved you from Deacon that day. My assignment had ended. Plus, I thought it would be cool to go out with a bang.” She winks. “Isn’t that right, Ash?”

  “Yes,” Asher answers her with softness in his voice.

  Panic floats through me. “So you’re leaving me? Again? And who is Deacon?”

  “My assignment is over,” she attempts to soothe me. “I can’t stay.”

  “And him?” I motion toward Asher.

  “Asher is your protector.” Her tone is gentle but firm.

  “Wait,” I shout. “I can’t do this without you, Aria.” My eyes sting with tears.

  Aria tilts her head at my emotional state. “You’re very special, Eve,” she speaks softly. “I know it feels like the weight of the world is on your shoulders, but I believe in you. If anyone can bring us all restoration, it’s you.”

  “Restoration from what?” I ask in a small voice. “And why him?”

  “You are our savior, and he is yours,” she retorts.

  I watch her, watching me. “I think you’ve said that to me before, right?”

  A small smile pulls at her pink lips. “I have. I meant it then and I mean it now.”

  I swallow the painful lump in my throat. “Aria—”

  She interjects and snatches me in a tight embrace, stroking my hair to calm me. “Listen, let’s not do mushy-gushy friendship stuff.”

  I half-sob, half-laugh, in response to her favorite line.

  “Promise me that I’ll see you again?” I implore.

  “When the time is right, I promise,” she assures and smacks my ass, startling me like she used to. “We’re done, hot stuff. My girl is all yours again.” Aria nods behind me to Asher.

  Asher steps forward, looking lost. His ha
nds are shoved in the front pockets of his jeans.

  “Thanks for reaching her when I couldn’t,” he says to Aria.

  “You keep her in one piece, or I will end your existence myself, gargoyle,” she warns with a pointed look before her expression softens. “Tell Leo I send my love to him.”

  “I will. On both accounts,” he answers sincerely before pulling her into a quick hug.

  She turns to me. “Have fun saving the world with your badass gargoyles, Eve.”

  I pinch my features. “I don’t want to say goodbye to you again.”

  My guardian takes my face in her palms and wipes away the tears staining my cheeks.

  “I’m part of your story, always,” she declares in a soft voice.

  I sob and squeeze my eyes shut. When I reopen them, she’s gone. My heart twists painfully at losing her all over again.

  Asher steps in front of me, looking shy and devastated. It’s almost as if he’s taken on my pain and sadness as his own. I watch him work his throat as he attempts to swallow. One of his hands lifts, and with the back of his knuckles, he brushes away my tears.

  After allowing me a few moments to grieve, Asher silently leads me to the bench and we sit. He takes my hand in his and turns it over before placing one of the pink flowers from the tree into my palm. A memory of him doing this before hits me. We were sitting on this same bench and he was sharing a story of his mother. I inhale sharply at the vision.

  “The darkness can be overwhelming,” he speaks quietly.

  My lids flutter at his words. They’re the same ones from my memory.

  “You are my place of peace.” His voice is low.

  Asher closes my hand around the blossom and my heart becomes heavy in my chest.

  “You are the light to my soul,” he continues.

  My body begins to hum and fill with warmth as his leans closer.

  “You are my purpose.”

  Strong hands cup my cheeks and my eyes slide shut.

  “Open your eyes, siren,” he demands.

  My lids blink open and meet Asher’s intense gaze.

  “You are my everything.”

  Asher moves his mouth toward mine and my breath hitches.

  “You. Are. My. Forever,” he whispers across my lips.

  And I breathe him in.

  “Come back to me,” he insists, placing his hand over my heart.