Waking Eden (The Eden Series Book 3)

by Rhenna Morgan

  Chapter 15

  Ramsay rolled away from the sunlight slanting across his closed eyelids. His morning stubble scratched against the soft pillowcase, and Trinity’s spring and linen scent filled his lungs.

  His eyes snapped open. No Trinity, just a dent on the pillow beside his. He checked the sun’s position with his senses. No more than six or six-thirty. Surely she hadn’t—

  The bite of strong coffee drifted from the kitchen. Oh, no. Not gone. Looked like Trinity was doing the domesticated sex kitten routine. And praise The Great One, was that bacon?

  He threw back the covers and padded to his jeans across the room. God, this woman was amazing. Drop dead gorgeous, innocent heart, wild as fuck in the bedroom, and she cooked bacon. Perfect. Abso-freaking-lutely perfect.

  He gave up finding his T-shirt and ambled through the living room half dressed. Only the kitchen lights were on, leaving the rest of the apartment in the soft glow of morning.

  Trinity shifted from behind the stove and tossed a utensil in the sink.

  Guess he’d found his T-shirt, and damned if she didn’t look good in it, the hem reaching almost to her knees. A wallop of something he’d never felt before pushed his shoulders back and puffed up his chest.

  He crept closer. Not just bacon on the menu. Toast, potatoes, and eggs too. “Not sure which I like better. You making food that won’t leave me hungry in five minutes, or what you wear doing it.”

  Trinity spun around and smiled, a wide, killer one at full wattage. “I hope you don’t mind. I’ve read a ton of stories where the woman wears a guy’s shirt the next morning, and I’ve always wanted to do it.” Her smile turned sheepish and her cheeks pinkened. “It smells like you.”

  So honest. Not a bone of pretense in her body. Was there a better word than perfect? “You like my scent being on you?”

  The blush flared a hotter red and she twisted to the stove.

  So, she did like it.

  He liked it too. A lot.

  The image of his family’s mark on her arm splayed across his mind. Dangerous, but damned inciting too.

  He settled on a barstool. Even if he wanted a baineann, she’d have to be Myren to take his mark, not that Trinity seemed too keen on the idea of being Myren. And why in histus was that, anyway? “You care if I get coffee?”

  “Help yourself. Cups are over the coffee pot. There’s creamer in the fridge and sugar in the small container.” She motioned to the smallest of the blue containers nestled in the corner and flipped the potatoes. The steady sizzle from the pan flared to an angry hiss.

  Maybe she needed a less sexual demonstration of the perks of being a Myren. He opened the cabinet with his mind and pulled out a handcrafted tan ceramic mug.

  Trinity froze, a strip of bacon dangling off the end of her fork and eyes locked on his trick.

  He slid the carafe free, poured a full cup, and slid it back on the burner.

  Trinity pivoted and followed the levitating cup of goodness across the room with wide eyes.

  “Black works fine for me. Though the stuff we brew at home kicks a bigger punch, so I’ll usually go for cream there.”

  The mug clinked atop the concrete countertop.

  “That is so cool.” She might try to fit the unruffled librarian mold, but in that second her face lit up like a seven-year-old at Christmas.

  “Ah, so you like my daylight parlor tricks better than my bedroom performance.” He sipped his coffee and winked. “I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

  Her levity melted away, replaced with a shudder and softening mouth. So adorable. Runway models paid damn good money to get mussed hair and kiss-swollen lips like hers. “I liked that too. Though I don’t really get how you did it.”

  “As simple as a thought. An impression of touch guided by the mind. Not much different from how I moved the coffee pot.” He took another drink. “That was only half of what I could’ve done. If you were Myren, I could have made it much better. As it was, I had to hold myself in check to keep you safe.”

  “Safe?”

  Ramsay sat the mug aside. “If you are Myren and unawakened, too much energy could trigger your awakening. You’re not even willing to consider you might be one of us, let alone be ready to take on your powers.”

  She smoothed his T-shirt at her stomach and cleared her throat. “I was thinking I’d stop by my mom’s house and pick up some stuff the adoption service gave her.”

  Ah, the none-too-subtle change of topic approach. He’d go with it for now. “Is that where you found the necklace?”

  Trinity ducked back to work and flipped off the burners. “I think that’s where it came from. Dad gave it to me when I was little.” She pulled two plates from the cabinet overhead and plated the food. “I get off work at five. I can pick it up on the way home and meet you back here.”

  “Why not meet there? I can help.”

  Trinity hesitated mid-spoonful of fried potatoes. “Mom’s a little difficult.”

  The plates were done and her coffee full, but she still wouldn’t turn around. “Difficult how?”

  She shook her head and pivoted with a plate in each hand, her face blanked with a kind of impassivity that seemed like a mortal crime on someone as bright as her. “It’s a long story. Not worth telling.”

  “Not worth telling, or don’t want to tell?”

  “Don’t want to.” She dug into her food and waggled her fork at him between bites. “Don’t you have…I don’t know…more important prince stuff to do?”

  She didn’t want to talk about it, fine. He’d play along. But it was damned weird seeing her lock up. “Actually I could use today to catch up on how we’re doing with the Rebellion.”

  “The what?”

  Oh, that’s right. He’d missed that detail the night before, somewhere between getting her to admit she might be Myren and her fuck-buddy proposition. “The Rebellion. They’re a bunch of fanatics who think The Great One made us superior to humans so they could be our slaves.”

  Trinity semi-coughed/choked on a mouthful of eggs.

  “Shit. Sorry.” Ramsay stood and smacked her on the back.

  She waved him off and covered her mouth, trying to suck in a steady breath. “Warn a girl before you scare the crap out of her, would you?” She poked her fork at his plate. “Eat. I’d like to make sure you’ve got enough energy to keep your local bad guys from ruining the rest of my life.”

  Ramsay shrugged and got to work on his food. “Yeah, well,” he said around a mouthful. “It doesn’t help they’ve got rogue Spiritu helping them.”

  Trinity’s fork clattered to the countertop. “Rogue Spiritu?”

  Ramsay grinned. He couldn’t have stopped it if he’d wanted to. The look on her face was priceless. Big eyes, loose jaw, kinda like he’d just told her he could sprout two more heads and a tail. “Guess I kinda fell short on explanations last night, huh?”

  She picked up her fork, studied the plate and pushed around what was left of her food.

  Weird. She’d taken everything else no BFD, but this seemed to suck the life right out of her.

  “You don’t sound like you like these Spiritu too much,” she said.

  “Dislike probably isn’t the right word. Histus, I barely know them. It’s what they do that bugs me. Inspiration is what they call it, but the idea of someone pushing ideas that aren’t mine in my mind?” He shook his head and scooped up the last bit of potatoes. “It rubs me the wrong way. Too close to brainwashing, if you ask me.”

  Trinity scraped her plate clean over the trashcan and loaded it up in the dishwasher. Everything about her seemed empty. Void of the usual life that energized her movements. Unplugged.

  To hell with that. He wanted his sunshine back. To see her smile and put some of that innocent swagger back into her hips. He left behind his own plate and slid behind her, hands at her waist. “Did I mention breakfast at Trinity’s house is now my favorite pastime?”

  Her knuckles went white gripping the sink ledge, but she
tilted her neck to give his lips better access. “I’m not sure I have time for a lesson before work.”

  “This isn’t a lesson. This is enjoyment.”

  “Doesn’t this…” She eyed him over her shoulder. “I don’t know, muddy the waters?”

  He splayed his hand across her abdomen, so soft. And damned if a quick dip with his fingers didn’t confirm she didn’t have a stitch on underneath. “Not to me. Touch, sexuality, intimacy, it’s the norm in Eden. Natural. Even PDAs are no big deal. I’d say they’re practically expected between two people in a relation—”

  His mouth locked up the second the word registered.

  Trinity slumped and she frowned, though she clearly tried to couch it as a smile. “That’s what I meant.” She turned and urged him back. “I respect your boundaries, Ramsay, but you have to respect mine too. Don’t pull me into something you’re not ready for.”

  Son. Of. A. Bitch. How had he not seen that coming? And even more importantly, why did he want to tug her right back against him and tell her to hell with boundaries?

  “I’ve got to get to work.” Trinity snatched the dishtowel off the counter, wiped her hands, and headed to the living room. “Do you need me to drop you somewhere?”

  Praise The Great One, where was his head? He’d forgotten he didn’t have a car.

  Still stuck on figuring out if the cost for the candy you’re craving is worth it.

  His conscience was a lippy pain in the ass. “No, I’ll port over.”

  Trinity drew up short and looked back. “Port over?”

  “To Eden.” As far as parlor tricks went, portals were one of the best. Second only to flying. And The Great One knew she needed some serious pepping up after his flubs this morning. “You wanna watch?”

  She glanced at the kitchen clock. “I still need to get dressed and get to work. Do we have time?”

  “Plenty.” He eyeballed her in his shirt and grinned. “But one way or another I’ve got to get you out of my clothes first.”

  * * *

  Serena touched down a few feet outside Uther’s front door, Underland’s noonday sun blasting down on her bare shoulders. Knowing her luck, she’d end up with noticeable tan lines and blow her one big covert task on a wardrobe misfire.

  Praise The Great One, she hated this place. As close to a human desert as you could get. Scorching in the daytime, and bitter cold at night, but without any hope for an oasis. How Uther’s family had survived here so long, she’d never understand.

  She knocked on the weathered front door, and the crumbling whitewashed finish scraped her knuckles.

  The door opened.

  Uther stood with one arm propped on the door’s edge and the other on his hip, his chocolate linen pants and loose ivory shirt more indicative of a laborer than the Rebellion strategos he’d once been. He scowled and looked her up and down. “Took you long enough.”

  She pushed past him and headed for the kitchen. The tiny place barely held its own against her family’s gardener shack, but compared to the brutal outside it was paradise. “What do you mean, ‘Took you long enough’? I’m on house arrest. By the way, thanks for all the support.”

  She ran water over the shallow cuts the door’s dried paint left behind.

  Uther tossed a mostly clean hand towel in her direction. “I knew where you were.”

  “Then why didn’t you come help me?”

  “Couldn’t be sure you wouldn’t throw me out as bait to get yourself off the hook.”

  Well, he was right on that score. Any longer cooped up at the warrior’s training facility and she’d have thrown her own mother out as bait. “You could’ve come after.”

  “Nope.” He strolled to the navy blue couch across from the well-used but unlit fireplace, settled in, and kicked up his feet on the scarred walnut coffee table. “Needed to be sure I had something to keep you in line first. Any woman who’ll knife her own fireann can’t be trusted.”

  Serena tossed the towel aside and crept closer. Goose bumps raced up her arms and across her shoulders. “Keep me in line how?”

  “Put a little more skin in the game for you.” He stared at the empty hearth, unbothered to even meet her gaze. “Make sure you had enough incentive to help me out.”

  She lurched into his field of vision. “So you forced me to break my house arrest? Is that it? Do you have any clue how many guards are on me at any given time? Praise The Great One, they’re even saying someone’s bringing humans to Eden and claiming it was me.”

  At her last shrieked word, his gaze snapped to hers. “I know exactly what’s going on because I’m the one bringing them here.”

  Serena’s thoughts tumbled. “You set me up?”

  “Keeps the malran busy while I take care of my own business,” he said, not the least bit concerned with the fact her lungs wouldn’t work right.

  “They’ll strip my powers if they prove it was me bringing humans here. Histus, I doubt Eryx will even be held to proof. Supposition will be more than enough.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Seems you’ve got quite the following lately.” He smirked. “Unrequited love suits you.”

  “Stop it!” She stomped to within an arm’s reach. Even standing on her feet she barely towered over his seated height. “This isn’t a joke.”

  “I’ll bet Maxis didn’t think his plans were a joke either, but you took him out quick enough didn’t you?”

  Fuck this. She straightened and schooled her features to that of a fearful, innocent woman. “I was afraid.” She nudged a wave of sympathy toward Uther, a barely detectable cloud of emotion to skew his natural response. “He was about to give us all away to Reese. I couldn’t risk him sacrificing all we’d done. If anything, I protected you. And now you put my powers in jeopardy? They’ll cast me out.”

  “Then you’d be wise to work with me. I can plant something more substantial next time.” No concern or capitulation at all. Just a steady, cold glare. “I sure as hell won’t use your perfume again, though. Took three showers to get it off me.”

  Blast it, why wasn’t he responding? No one but Eryx— “Wait, the people you brought over, how do they not remember you?”

  His grin grew to a full smirk.

  The memory of Uther’s blocking demonstration in this same cabin only a month before blazed vivid in her mind. “You blocked it. The same gift you use to block attacks, you blocked their memory of you.”

  He dipped his chin, more of a salute to her deduction than agreement.

  “Any other handy tricks I should know about?”

  “There’s very little you need to know about me. What you do, I’ll share when I’m ready.” He stood and strolled toward the cluttered desk situated against the far wall.

  Damn, but she was fed up with men giving her their backs. Dismissing her with less care than a muddy pair of shoes. “Then tell me what’s so important you deemed it necessary to blackmail an innocent.”

  “An innocent?” He looked up from rummaging through the papers on the desktop and flat out laughed. “You are many things, Serena. Innocent isn’t one of them.”

  “What is it you need?”

  He flipped through a beat-up tablet, a modernized legal type from Evad. Not altogether surprising considering how much less they cost compared to those made in Eden. He tossed the notepad aside and scowled across the room. “I want access to old records. You have it. I don’t.”

  “Then by all means, visit Cush and bury yourself in books at the leabrash.”

  “Don’t patronize me, Serena. If it was something that simple, I’d have gone there by now.”

  “By all that’s sacred, get on with it and tell me exactly what you need!” Her pulse pounded at her temples and her throat scratched from the outburst. Even worse, her pride stung at the loss of control.

  Uther eased back, rested against the desk, and crossed his arms and ankles. “I need a specialized text. One from ancient times like Maxis had in his library.”

  Her instincts prickled, al
l the frustration and anger she’d mustered since Eryx’s visit sharpening on the man in front of her. “Why?”

  “I told you. When I want you to know, I’ll share.”

  “Bullshit. If you want me to risk my neck any further, then I want to know there’s something in it for me.”

  “You won’t lose your powers and you won’t get tossed to Evad. I’d think that was enough.”

  “Enough for bare bones, maybe.” She meandered closer and pushed an emotional urge to cooperate his direction. “Give me an incentive.” She swayed her hips with each step. “Something to make me want the risk.”

  The closer she got, the more his eyes narrowed.

  Give me what I want. Forget your caution and loosen that tongue of yours. She wove the thought around him, light so as not to raise suspicion with too great a stir of energy. She laid a hand on his chest. His heart thudded steady and strong beneath it. “Just a hint.”

  “I have leads on the prophecy.” His biceps flexed and his eyebrows pinched in the center. “That should be sufficient impetus for you, particularly if it means upsetting the throne.”

  She smiled, the first lighthearted flush she’d felt in over a month, making the drab room feel positively radiant.

  Aside from one tiny detail.

  “I can’t get to Maxis’ possessions anymore.” She paced toward the soot-covered hearth, excitement pushing her blood along at a heady pace. “They confiscated the lands. All of it.”

  “A minor problem considering your connections.” He pushed away from his desk and headed to the front door. “Surely you have contacts with access to the sacred halls. You get me the texts I need, and we’ll see where we go from there.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He opened the door and the blast of sunshine nearly blinded her. Heat wafted behind it. “It means you’ve got four days to get your hands on the translation texts for our mother tongue.”