Anna’s project.
Cole stifled a sneer and let his gaze wander among the guests. He accepted a cordial from a passing server and strolled along the circumference. Lords acknowledged him with nods or toasts of their drinks. Each echoed recognition of the Shilo City reapers. He knew every one of them—their taste in servers, their preference in control. He offered little in return for their greetings.
“Sir Cole.” Dressen’s baritone voice came from near the terrace doors before Cole had caught sight of him.
“Lord Dressen.” He smiled a complimentary greeting as his gaze flitted to Anna at his side. “A pleasure to see you on this special occasion.”
Anna held to the law maker’s arm, fingers laced at the nook of his elbow. Her ivory satin gown fitted snugly. Smooth elegance flowed from the soft curve of her hips to the floor. As she turned to gaze upon her keeper, Cole noticed the design bared much of her back. Her hair swooped up into a loose herringbone weave, leaving wisps to trail her unveiled shoulders. Diamonds bejeweled her with a web of brilliance and called attention to her favored position at the Lord’s side.
A large hand lighted on Dressen’s shoulder, and Lord Standish leaned to his hearing. “Might I have a quick word?”
Stepping into a turn, Cole took a drink from his glass to allow privacy.
“Without the girl.” The Grand Marshal motioned to Anna and then eyed Cole with a pardoning expression.
Lord Dressen remove Anna’s hand from his arm and kissed her fingers. “Accompany Sir Shilo, Anna. I won’t be long.”
Dressen stepped away, and Cole turned back to his reason for being there. Warmth flushed through his heart.
Anna.
If it could only be that easy: A requested dance, a guide to the far end of the hall, a secluded passage, and a whisk away by Smoke of Night. He’d have her—until Dressen found her missing after he’d entrusted her to Cole. He swallowed and tempered his desire, reminding himself of the plan.
Anna stepped to Cole and sent a questioning gaze along the length of his cape. He smiled and pulled aside his cloak to hold out his arm. She laced her hand around his elbow.
Exhilaration charged from her contact, and he couldn’t help but look into her eyes. How had he not recognized her call for what it was? So much could have been avoided if he had.
She looked at him and hesitated as if studying his gaze. Her fingertips stroked her lips, and Cole’s heart skipped at the thought of her remembering their kiss. It was unlikely, but he picked up on feelings of—cherishment? He brushed his hand along hers to hold.
Gazing at his touch, she slowly reciprocated. Her cheeks flushed. Out of instinct? His soul willed it to be more.
The conversation behind them pulled his attention away as Dressen’s deep voice could only hush to a rumble.
“They can’t hurt us.”
“There are ancient ways,” Standish whispered with a hiss.
Cole widened his perception and picked up on variations of their emotions. Concern. Denial. Fear? Passiveness. Then with no strained attempt at quiet, he heard the overlord’s exhortation.
“Carlton, you read too many tales to your children. Relax. I know what I’m doing.”
Standish huffed, and his anger flew through Cole’s senses. “What you’re dealing with goes beyond mortal understanding, Kyle. We’re not talking about common laws here.”
“Look.” This time, full authority filled Dressen’s voice as he spoke. “Traditionalism has no place in this society and I weary of your constant hindrance. If you and your comrades want to levy another stand, by all means try. Your orthodox positions will not sway the counsel. I hold the majority in my pocket. Whatever your little crusade comes up with will be overruled three to one. Now stop wasting my time. I have other interests to attend to.”
Dressen stepped to Cole’s side as a smile appeared on his face. “Please excuse the intrusion. Differing opinions are prevalent in my line of duty.”
“Indeed.”
He reclaimed Anna’s hand and set it on his arm. “Now, I’ve been anxiously awaiting your arrival, Sir Cole. Not all receive a gift forged by one such as you.”
Cole motioned to the terrace. “This gift is best received in private.” He glanced at Anna. “Of course, your lovely lady may accompany us.”
Dressen eyed him sideways. “Why in private?”
“The elements may bring about an elated emotion.” He smiled. “Exhilaration is not always something we want others to witness.”
The Lord chuckled, and Cole felt the man’s anticipation heighten. “The terrace it is.”
They stepped into the crisp night air, and Cole closed the doors behind him. The rumble of conversation and music hushed.
A soft breeze blew across the landing, rustling the ferns that bordered the cobblestoned patio. Bobbles beneath the foliage dimmed and brightened with the disturbance.
He stepped to the center of the terrace and withdrew the small copper box from his pocket. The trinket glowed, and the crystal at its center pulsed as Dressen neared.
“This box holds a gift only you can control,” said Cole. “I will present you with a small portion of its possibilities. I do this to reassure you if you have any hesitance in acquiring it.”
Eager acceptance echoed from Dressen, and his eyes gleamed.
Cole slowly tilted the lid back. The lavender cloud inside flowed with the disturbance. He pinched at the substance, and it lifted with his touch, a sleek trail following his motion. “With your permission, I present you with memories of your first birthday.”
Humor puffed with Dressen’s breath. “Who remembers their first birthday?”
“You.” Cole nodded to urge the sire to open his hand. With a graceful wave, he led the essence to settle into the outstretched palm.
The mist swirled. Violet overtook lilac as it solidified into a lustrous pearl. Folding the lord’s hand into a fist, Cole gently placed his fingertips on the sire’s eye lids to close them. He muttered his command. “Merota.”
Lord Dressen’s brows rose. A quiet sound passed his lips, and he shook his head. “Amazing. It’s our birthday. Some of our old photographs were taken inside, but this was on the terrace and the blue lights are dimmed. I don’t remember my parents mentioning blue lights...but...this is definitely me. I can feel it.” Unmistakable astonishment rode his sigh. “There was a magician. He made things dance—sand? My, he was good. Where’s Kendra?” He seemed to search with his closed eyes. “She had to have loved this.”
Cole watched as Dressen’s attention deepened on the memory.
“Mother probably hid her from that reporter they say got past security. Every newscaster in the area wanted the story. It was quite the event.” The birthday boy shook his head. “What is that scent? Coconut? No. Almond. The treats taste so sweet.” He raked his teeth over his bottom lip with a chuckled. “I think my father ate too much of them. I can smell it all over him. Anise?”
His lids lifted with his enthusiasm, and then his heavy brows dipped. “Where did it go? It’s gone.”
“It’s easiest to focus with closed eyes. Within this moment you just recalled, every detail was exact in its presentation to your mind and senses. Now, with this experience, you see the possibilities this gift can offer. I have enhanced these memories for your delight. You may remember any period of time in your life. Whether it’s a forgotten occurrence during a court meeting or simply a past pleasure, it may be called upon at your leisure by holding the pearl and pinpointing the occurrence in your mind.”
Cole lowered the box, careful not to close the lid. “With this gift, I’m compelled to issue a warning.”
“A warning. What could possibly cause need of a warning with a gift like this?”
“Some experiences, as you well know, arouse deeper pleasures. With the enhancement I placed on the gift, you may find it difficult to call yourself out of the memory. Reliving passions can become intoxicating in the intensified state. It’s up to you to call an end to it.�
�
Dressen’s crooked smile confirmed Cole’s expectations. Very pleased with the gift.
“So, I can call up any memory, any moment, and relive it in detail as it happened—in a heightened state.”
“That’s right.”
The lord laughed and shook his head. “I never expected such an extraordinary gift, Sir Cole. In all my life, I would have never imagined.” He lifted the little pearl between his forefinger and thumb. “If you don’t mind, I think I’d like to test the extent of this little gem.”
Clutching the lavender enchantment with his fist, he eased into a lounge chair.
Cole cocked a grin. “I thought you might.”
As Dressen relaxed into a dream-like state, Cole turned his attention to Anna. She watched the lord with serene patience. He lifted the box and whispered to her mind. “Anna.”
As she looked his way, he fanned his fingers. Light ginger clouded her eyes. “Visola comp.”
She blinked with a start, shook her head, and then recognition flashed on her face. With the spell of vague recollection set in her mind, Cole shot an urgent thought to her. “Curfew, run!”
She gasped and then darted from the terrace toward town. Cole turned and with a wave, flew open the ballroom doors. Music from the celebration spilled into the air. He marched inside, scanning the throng. Finding James and Vincent on the dance floor, he called to their minds. “It is complete.”
Vincent halted his dance with Elaina and took her hand. She nodded, and together they turned toward the exit. James bowed to his partner, and as he joined Vincent, Cole set a long stride across the hall to the door. Their cloaks reefed with simultaneous motion as their heels hammered across the marble floor in cadence.
Conversations quieted, and the guests quickly shuffled aside. Astonishment and wonder resounded around the ballroom and flooded Cole’s senses. He led the way to the foyer and tossed a mental command at the doors. The large double entry flew wide.
Vincent raised his hand, and Elaina’s shawl zipped into his grasp from the coatroom. Crossing the threshold, he took her waist and pulled her tightly to him.
Cole barely noticed his brothers’ cloaks furl as he whipped his own high and took on the Smoke of Night.
Anna ran, a single thought ebbing, resurfacing, distorting. Curfew breakers are never heard from again.
Abstract symbols flashed before her mind’s eye, a multitude of color.
Panic.
The dim lights of the silent city jeered at her with each flicker as she hastened through its empty streets. A tall palisade.
Familiar.
Gone.
She halted and looked down the fortification. Recollection. Hope was beyond. She darted, searching for a break in the barrier. Not until she came to a crossroads, did she pause.
A gateway, hulking in size. She gazed, mollified at the mortared arch on the corner of—Simpson Drive? Arbital Street? The large stone griffin glared down at her with granite eyes. A guardian? An obstructer?
She blinked and shook her head at the scenes in her mind.
The gates were closed. She threw her gaze to them.
Open.
Misted pavement. She looked down the street. The memory was gone.
Crossing the threshold, a dark wonderland of incense filled the air—roses, lilacs, lilies.
Follow the path. Faint recollection guided her feet.
A bridge. Cross the bridge.
Mist undulated as she stepped beyond the pass-over and immediately confusion haunted her mind. She cried a desperate weep and gazed wildly around the dense shadows that engulfed the grounds.
She pounded her head with her fists and then broke into a run. Racing through the low fog, she flailed her arms, trying to ward off the provoking cover. It slowly reverted, mocking her hasty opposition.
The trail ended, and she halted again, panting with uncertainty.
A small one-lane road. Row houses hosted narrow frontages. Care-worn automobiles hugged the curb like a crutch, standing wearily, partially on the pavement.
She scanned the compacted neighborhood. Flashes of laughter, hospitality, and common ground lighted her mind and cast the feeling of placement.
Left? No right. She walked.
Half way down the hole-pocked street, a sunken doorway caught her attention. Meager bushes graced each side, and a wind chime tinkled in the small breeze. Her heart grasped the word home.
She dashed to the entrance and tugged at the rusty latch.
Locked.
Fright gripped her. “Let me in!”
Scrambling behind a bush to peer into the paned window, she pressed her cheek against the barrier and looked around. A kitchen, a bar, yellow wallpaper, and a closet.
“This is my house.” She dug her fingernails into the wooden frame. Weathered sealant pierced the tender skin under her nails, and chunks fell to the sill, adding to the peeled brown paint. “My home!”
Panels lurched against the loose molds as she drummed on the panes. Focusing solely on the interior’s promise of reprieve, she pounded harder. Glass shattered, and fretted wood splintered, leaving jagged spears protruding from the casing.
She grasped the framework and pulled herself onto the ledge. Anything she could grab served as support and leverage as she scrambled through the opening.
Ivory satin ripped. Her bare arms raked against the broken wood. Heaving herself over the frame, she dragged her body across the shard glass. Piercing pain dug deep into her hips and thighs, and she gasped as she tumbled into the kitchen. Blood flowed down the yellow wall below the window. Her hands slipped on the linoleum as she threw her arms out to catch herself.
Clambering for the bar, she braced her stand. Pain gripped her lower body but confusion overruled any thought of reason.
“Anna.”
Her lids shot wide. Who spoke her name? She whipped around so fast nausea rushed her. The little kitchen blurred as her gaze flitted to each surface. With a quick swipe, she wiped the sweat from her face and looked beyond the bar to the small living area. The haze lifted.
A phone sat on the sofa table.
She scampered around the narrow divider and dove for the receiver. Her fingers groped it tight as she cried into the mouthpiece. “Please, help me, somebody please help me!”
A dark mist appeared in her periphery, and she caught her breath, inching her gaze toward the front entrance. It filtered through the crack beneath the door and then billowed into the form of two men.
She froze.
Something deep inside told her there should be three. The thought disappeared.
As the tall slender one’s gaze swept up her body, her heart skipped. She knew him. Somewhere in her mind, she knew him and couldn’t tear her gaze away from his midnight irises.
“Oh, Gods, Anna.”
The slight tone in his whisper sent goose bumps up her arms, and as he slipped the receiver from her loosened grip, all she wanted was to take the fright from his voice.
The trance turned to shock as he grabbed the shredded portions of her gown and ripped the fabric aside. A sick growl sounded in his throat.
His large companion quickly waved his hand and tiny spars of glass flew from her wounds. A shriek squelched in her gasp as nettles jetted across her body.
Dropping to his knee, the man before her gently covered a large gash in her hip with his palm. Heat pooled around the cut. When he removed his hand, the wound was gone. He passed the healing power over the intrusions in her thighs.
Pain subsided, and Anna closed her eyes, savoring the comfort.
Heaving a sigh, the tall man brushed his fingers over the smaller tracks up her arms and along her side. She looked down at his long black hair as his feather touch traveled the back of her legs.
Weariness swam alongside wonderment in her mind. Placing her hands on the crown of his head, she pulled him close to her torso.
He paused and buried his face in her skin. His hands gently skimmed up her hips and then held her wais
t. Hot breath bathed her abdomen and sent chills through her core. She licked her dry lips and closed her eyes.
Cole savored the scent of Anna’s body, holding her close as his heavy breath bathed her skin. Sweet musk from her wakening senses filled him with a longing from ages past. He brushed his lips down her abdomen and drank in the intoxicating aroma.
She wavered, and her hands became heavy on his head. A thought raced to the forefront of his mind. Too much blood loss, no one could survive.
James’ voice called him from his reverie. “Cole.”
He lifted his gaze to her pale face and then shot to a stand. Her limp body fell into his embrace. As he gathered her into his arms, fear shot through him. “She’s lost too much blood.”
“Get her back to the manor, I’ll clean up here.”
Foregoing the pomp of a flourishing cape, he relinquished their forms and darted out the window into the night. Through the cold midnight travel, his panicked thoughts sent prayers to the gods of Cornerstone Deep.
“Arylin, Goddess of Love, grant me this my prayer. Take not again my love from me. Gryffin, Protector of Conformance, forgive my ignorance. Preserve the guiltless in mine arms. Taravaughn, Giver of Beauty and Life, restore that which was taken through despair.”
He’d never prayed to the gods who’d created this realm, and his hope was weak as to their acknowledging his plea. But his heart cried to every possibility. Her actions tore at his conscience, and he pushed harder to quicken their arrival.
His dark mass threw open the cherry-wood manor door. He ignored Elaina’s gasp and flew up the marble-capped stairs. Vincent dashed after him, and she quickly followed.
Entering a guestroom, Cole took form and gently lowered Anna onto the bed. Brushing the disheveled hair from her face, he sat at her side. The dim light from the hall bathed them in solemn silence. Gods, what have I done?
He heaved a deep breath and looked away. An apricot tree brushed against the window as if the blossoms tried to decide the fate of his love. The large wardrobe loomed in the shadow, quietly rebuking the sight. The mirror atop the wide dresser reflected their subdued forms against the glow from the entrance. Seeing his distraught face sickened him, deepening his anxiety.
The Transformation of Anna (Cornerstone Deep Book 1) Page 12
