Ascension Series Boxset: Books 1 - 3

by Laura Hall

  She shrugged. “Maybe. It is not for me to say how one love compares to the other. But I’ve been here two days, and in that time Connor hasn’t left your side. Not for Gabriella, not for the President of the United States.”

  My stomach turned over. “He feels guilty.”

  She sighed, so loudly and dramatically that I cracked a smile. “You see? Neither one of you has any clarity on the relationship. A poor beginning to a compagno bond.” She glanced at the door, then turned back quickly. “I know you want to leave, and frankly, I think some distance between you two is best. There is a way to obscure the bond so Connor can’t find you.” She grinned. “Someone very clever used it on me, many centuries ago, as punishment for a perceived slight. I had to work hard to make it up to him.”

  I sat up further, pulling my knees to my chest. “What do I have to do?”

  “It’s not a do, it’s a wear,” she said and pulled a gold chain from beneath her blouse. Attached to the end was a delicate obsidian arrowhead. At my confused glance, she said, “He was a shaman. I don’t know why this particular stone works, but it does.”

  Dark eyes glistening with feeling, she pulled the long chain over her head and handed it to me. As I began to lift it, she said, “Wait. Put it on when the timing is right. When he won’t know you’re gone until it’s too late.”

  I tucked the necklace securely into a glove. “Thank you,” I said softly. “How can I repay you?”

  She smiled, a trifle sadly. “If you ever decide you don’t need it anymore, return it to me.”

  I nodded. “Is there anything else I need to know?”

  “You’ll be immune to vampire glamour now, including that of Ancients. No vampire save Connor will be able to drink from you. If you continue to partake of his blood, you will notice improvements in reflexes and the five senses. Perhaps even your extrasensory perceptions.”

  “No, thanks,” I muttered.

  She sighed, which was again more of a statement than a reflex. “In addition, the bond goes both ways. If you find yourself in dire need of Connor, remove the necklace and call for him. I don’t doubt he would move mountains to find you.”

  “Let’s hope that won’t be necessary.”

  “Of course,” she said, then hesitated. “Fiona, you must always remember that a vampire binding a Fae is punishable by death. Your bond should be kept secret at all costs. The Fae will indiscriminately punish any and all who concealed the knowledge, including your loved ones.”

  I shuddered, thinking immediately of my dad and Mal. “I won’t tell anyone. But that’s extreme, isn’t it?”

  “Perhaps, but vampires and Fae have a long, bloody history. Connor’s is especially horrible.” I opened my mouth, but she shook her head. “It’s not my place. There’s one more piece of information I want to offer you. In my many years of experience with compagnos, I feel confident in telling you the bond doesn’t create feelings that aren’t there.”

  “I don’t—”

  Janelle cut me off with a swipe of a manicured hand. “What I’ve learned of you is that you are bold and brave. Don’t sully that opinion.”

  My mouth dropped open a little.

  She was right.

  “I’m screwed,” I breathed.

  She gave my knee a brisk pat. “Listen to your heart. Our heads so easily lead us astray.” She straightened and turned on the bed. “Ah, your father and uncle.”

  The bedroom door opened. I forgot any and all weakness as I jumped from the bed and ran to my dad. He caught me in a bone-cracking hug, his scent of pipe smoke and leather surrounding me.

  “Thank God you’re all right,” he said into my hair. He leaned back, dark eyes roaming my face. “You need a bath, pumpkin.”

  I groaned. “Can I eat something first?”

  Mal chuckled. “We had a feeling you’d say that,” he said and waved a food service cart into the room. My mouth watered at the delectable smells of hamburgers and French fries.

  “I’ll leave you to your dinner,” said Janelle, sweeping across the room with elegant strides. She paused at the door, offering me a smile and a wink. “Whatever you now think, I promise your opinion will change. It’s a blessing, Fiona. A rare, wondrous connection.”

  She was gone before I could reply or say thank you. I fingered the tiny lump of the necklace under my glove. Listen to your heart. How the hell did I do that when it wanted me to jump off a cliff with no parachute?

  Enslaved or not, I remembered every second from the cabin. I remembered the look on Connor’s face as he realized that with James’ death, Gabriella was free of the Liberati’s enchantment.

  The love in his voice.

  The gentleness of his touch on her face.

  “Kiddo,” said Mal warningly.

  I snapped out of my thoughts and blinked at my dad and uncle, the former of whom was staring at my gloves with wide eyes. I looked down at the pulsing white magic outlining the fabric.

  “Sorry,” I mumbled.

  My dad, wincing, asked, “Do you need to . . . talk about it?”

  I couldn’t help laughing, and neither could Mal. “Sorry, Dad,” I gasped, “you just—you looked so tortured.”

  “Bugger off,” he grumbled and beelined for the food cart, left near the windows by a soundless staff member. He dragged three chairs around the cart, then flashed us a wide grin. “Let’s eat our feelings instead.”

  Mal and I, still laughing, joined him without complaint, and we polished off our meals in record time. There was only one hiccup to the perfectly relaxing reunion, when my dad asked why I was sleeping in the Prime’s bedroom.

  Mal deflected with a plausible lie. I smiled and nodded.

  They left me as the sky began to darken and I started yawning and listing in my chair. I walked with them through the suite’s elegant antechamber, put up with more comments about my need to bathe, and finally said good night.

  “How about a walk tomorrow morning?” I asked, with a furtive glance down the empty corridor.

  Mal nodded and my dad’s eyes narrowed. “We could go for that walk now, if you need to.”

  I squeezed his hand. “Thanks, Dad. I’m okay right now. See you in the morning?”

  “You got it.”

  They took turns trying to deflate my lungs with hugs, then strolled toward the elevator. I watched them go, enjoying the easy way they interacted, the obvious love they felt for each other in spite of years of competition and ribbing. By the time the elevator doors closed behind them, my eyes were a little misty.

  Behind me, the library door clicked as it opened. I swung around and froze. Connor stood in the doorway, looking tired in wrinkled slacks and an untucked white button-down. His hair was getting long, curling loosely against his neck and ears. Above telling shadows, his eyes were a lighter green than I’d ever seen them. Crystalline.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked softly.

  “Great. Good.” I shuffled backward, then froze again. My cheeks went nuclear with embarrassment as I realized where I was trying to escape to. “I don’t need to stay in your rooms anymore. I can go somewhere else.”

  “The only place you’re going is there”—he pointed over my head—“or there.” His finger swung to the door of the Consort’s Suite.

  It was suddenly hard to breathe. He took a step toward me. I took another step back, warding him off with a raised hand. “Connor—” He took another step, coiled tension apparent in each movement. Like he was going to pounce. I started sweating.

  “We need to talk, Fiona.”

  “I need a bath,” I blurted.

  He blinked, then smiled slowly. “Very well. I’ll run it for you.”

  He blew past me, felt as a windy caress against my cheek. Moments later I heard the sound of water running.

  I stared at the opposite wall. At nothing. My heart pounded in my chest. White magic shivered down my arms. But it wasn’t anger triggering the gloves. It was something distinctly other. A feeling only made worse by his pro
ximity, by the compagno bond between us.

  Almost, it felt like glamour. But it wasn’t; at least, whatever I was feeling, he was feeling too. I could tell—I could sense it. The magnetic draw went both ways. Like we were gravity for each other, and the closer we were, the stronger that gravitational pull asserted itself.

  I was so screwed.

  Twenty-Two

  The odds may have been stacked against me, but I wasn’t completely without wits. As I walked through the antechamber, toward the bedroom and bathroom beyond, I bolstered my Connor Defense System. Beneath it, I was confused and embarrassed. Uncertain and fearful. I’d trusted him and he’d turned me into a mindless slave. And he had the power to do it again. But the biggest, grossest feeling of all was a deep insecurity, born of his rejection and inconsistency.

  I paused in the bathroom doorway. He was on his knees before a marble soaker tub, currently filling with steaming water and lavender scented bubbles. It looked and smelled so heavenly, I considered kicking him out.

  “I’m not leaving until we talk.”

  I sighed, all my defenses wilting under his steady stare. “It’s not your fault. None of this is. You never made me any promises. The opposite, in fact. And honestly, I haven’t made you any promises either.” I gestured between us. “I don’t know what this is. Desperation? Circumstance? Biological urgings of predator for prey and vice versa? Now the compagno bond has made everything even more complicated.”

  He looked down at the water. I watched his fingers playing with the currents, swirling silky bubbles. At length he asked, “Has it occurred to you it might not be complicated, but simple?”

  “I’m not following.”

  He sighed and turned off the faucets, then stood gracefully. I tensed, expecting him to approach, but he only leaned against the wall beside the bathtub and crossed his arms over his chest. “Of course you aren’t,” he said softly, his gaze trailing over my face. I kept my expression neutral, but it was useless. He knew everything.

  He knew.

  “You can’t do this to me,” I said in a voice I didn’t recognize. Aching and raw. “I can’t go through this again.”

  He moved toward me, but I was locked in a rictus of emotional pain and couldn’t get away. Couldn’t escape. To my surprise, he didn’t touch me, saying only, “Enjoy your bath.”

  And damn my mouth, but it opened and said, “Wait.”

  He went preternaturally still, his eyes glittering emerald. We were framed by the doorway, his body angled to move past mine into the bedroom. Close. Too close.

  “Yes?” he breathed.

  I stared at his jaw, at a tiny scar that was only a shade paler than the rest of his skin. “What about Gabriella?”

  I felt his struggle, not knowing its origins but sensing its depth. He wanted to retreat. But he didn’t.

  “At least get in the bath,” he said dryly. “One of us should be comfortable.”

  “Is my smell getting to you?” I asked sweetly.

  He showed me his extended fangs. “Does this answer your question?”

  Oh.

  I cleared my throat and moved toward the bathtub. “Turn around.”

  He did as he was told. I quickly stripped out of my clothes, both disgusted that I’d been in them for two days and relieved no one had tried redressing me. Lastly, I carefully removed my gloves, making sure to keep Janelle’s necklace concealed.

  I didn’t waste any time, sliding into the water with an involuntary groan of bliss. I dunked my head and wiggled around, then came up with a sigh. “The water’s perfect, thank you.”

  “May I turn around now?”

  I hauled a towel off the ledge and straight into the water. “Yep.”

  He turned, expression caught between humor and disbelief. “You soaked a perfectly good towel for modesty’s sake?”

  I adjusted the towel over my front, patting the blanket of bubbles on top. “Yes.”

  Smiling slightly, he lifted himself onto the counter opposite the tub, settling between two sinks. He looked entirely at ease and perfectly natural, like keeping me company while bathing was a routine pastime.

  Damn compagno bond.

  “Does that always happen in the bath?” he asked.

  Tiny white sparks danced between my skin, the water, and the bubbles. I nodded. “I’m like a toaster in the bathtub. Single occupant only.”

  Connor laughed shortly, and his eyes kept smiling even as his mouth softened. “I’d risk it.”

  I closed my eyes. It was time to pull off the Band-Aid. “About Gabriella.”

  He responded immediately, “She’s safe, recovering below ground with the nest.”

  My charge spiked and electricity flared around me. He sounded so normal. Almost dismissive.

  It was maddening.

  “Okay,” I snapped. “And what happens when she’s well again? How does she feel about me sleeping in your bed? Staying in her suite?”

  Tension and expectation filled the void of sudden silence. Or maybe it was the ionization of particles in the room as I grew more agitated. I opened my eyes to see Connor sitting very still, an oddly vulnerable expression on his face.

  “I haven’t been completely honest with you,” he said, so softly I strained to hear him.

  I sat up straighter, the roots of my hair tingling. “Meaning?”

  In a nervous gesture I’d never seen him make, he began tapping his fingers against the counter. He stared at the floor as he said, “Years prior to Gabriella’s abduction, my feelings for her changed. She knew and accepted it, and we remained . . . close. It was an amicable parting. At the time of her disappearance, we had yet to publicly announce our separation, but she had already moved on to a new lover.”

  There was a soft, bell-like tone in my ears. Shock, probably. I stared at him, my mouth hanging open, as he continued matter-of-factly, “The Consort’s Suite is yours, Fiona. Your colors, your furniture. Everything from the floorboards to the fixtures was new when you arrived.” His voice broke. “It’s always been yours.”

  Always?

  My eyes burned. My stomach churned. My heart hurt.

  “That’s crazy,” I said hoarsely. “We just met. You barely know me.” I shook my head helplessly. “Whatever feelings you have for me are because of my blood and power.”

  His aura flared, starlit wings extending and dimming the overhead lights. His eyes were almost black, his voice a rasp as he said, “Understand this about me. I hate the Fae. Loathe them. The first time I saw you, dancing in that disgusting club in San Francisco, I wanted nothing to do with you. Less than nothing. Your mother’s attempts to bait me failed. I couldn’t have cared less about the future potential of some halfbreed Fae-child.”

  Strangely, the words were a relief.

  Connor took a deep, slow breath, his aura retracting to a shadowy pulse around his shoulders. “Compliments of my glamour, you don’t have the memory of us meeting for the first time that night. I was leaving out the back door and you were returning from the restroom. You were drunk and tripped into me. I set you on your feet and you . . . You looked up at me and grinned. You called me a gentleman and said I was pretty.” He smiled crookedly. “Pretty, like a doll or a child.”

  I slapped a hand over my mouth to hold in a giggle. Through my fingers, I said, “But you are pretty.”

  He shook his head chidingly, still smiling. “You did nothing but be yourself, and you turned my world upside down. You cannot tell me what I feel or don’t feel, Fiona. I know exactly what I feel for you, because I’ve felt it for over twenty years. I know every expression your face makes. I know every smile. I know you squint when you’re annoyed and tug your hair when you’re nervous. And when you’re happy, your eyes lighten from storm clouds to a winter sky. You clench your fingers when you feel helpless. You sleep like you’ve never shared a bed before, spread out like a starfish.”

  “Connor,” I breathed past my expanding, pounding heart. “Stop.”

  He didn’t.

/>   “Even as a newborn vampire, I didn’t have to fight as hard against my impulses as I have with you sleeping a paltry twenty feet from me. I haven’t withheld my affections because of Gabriella. I’ve withheld them because I realized how dangerous I am to you. I wanted to hurt you so you would run from me.” He shook his head roughly. “I tried.”

  “I know you did,” I said softly.

  “You must believe me, I didn’t want to bind you. I never would have done it if your life hadn’t been hanging in the balance. I will never forgive myself for what my call did to you.”

  The pain in his voice was sobering and alarming. It also put into perspective my own feelings on the topic, which weren’t nearly as potent as his. “It was only a few minutes. Nothing bad happened.”

  His eyes closed. “It might as well have been a lifetime.”

  I straightened in the water. “Will you tell me what happened to you?”

  When he opened his eyes, they were black. “The Fae happened to me. Vampires can bind Fae, and the opposite also holds true. I was once a slave for a hundred years. A lifetime.”

  The information filtered through me and questions leapt into my throat. I swallowed them down and focused on what mattered right here, right now.

  “I forgive you.”

  His tortured gaze met mine. “You still don’t understand. The Fae can release a slave, but a compagno bond can never be broken. You are dragon’s treasure and I am a dragon. We do not let our treasure go, even if our love destroys it.”

  Everything inside me felt liquid and bright. And completely, one hundred percent aligned. “You can’t destroy me,” I told him, summoning my charge and letting sparks writhe along the water’s surface. Most of the bubbles were gone, and the towel had floated away, but I wasn’t afraid. “What does mo spréach mean again?”

  “My spark,” he murmured.

  “Come here, Connor. And bring the soap.”

  After a pregnant pause, the tension and uncertainty melted from his features. Slowly, he began unbuttoning his shirt, until the long line of skin from his neck to belt was exposed. His eyes bled to emerald, then to peridot, and never left mine as he stood and unbuckled his belt. By the time the shirt came off and his pants fell, I was panting like a marathon runner.