Ascension - Laura Hall (books for 20 year olds TXT) 📗

the entrance to the kitchen. “You, Fiona Sullivan, are an interesting woman. I’m not sure there’s many people who, in your position, would be joking around.”

I winked, aware that the booze had made me flirty but unable to put a cap on it. “I have a high tolerance for crazy.”

Declan grinned, reaching up to touch the hair beside my temple. It was a light touch, but I felt it to my toes.

“Have you ever tried to dye this?”

“Oh, yes, with every dye known to man. It won’t take color. At least it’s small enough I can hide it under the rest of my hair.”

He gave me an odd look. “You can’t hide this.” His large, warm hand stroked across the side of my head. “It’s the width of my palm.”

A peculiar sensation tingled across the back of my neck. “What? No, it’s not.”

I reached up and our hands connected. Declan stilled, his pale eyes taking on a yellow tinge. Abruptly, he pulled away and took a step back, turning toward the door.

“Come on,” he said gruffly. “Let’s get you back.”

I followed him meekly, barely paying attention to my surroundings except to look for a mirror. I saw no reason for Declan to lie, but still struggled to make sense of it. If what he said was true, then sometime during the last forty-eight hours, the inch-thick streak of white in my hair had quadrupled.

By the time we reached the familiar hallway of the Prime’s residence, I hadn’t seen a mirror, but had a pretty good idea of when the change had happened.

When I stepped from the elevator, Declan didn’t follow. “I’ll leave you here,” he said, giving me a jaunty salute. “Good luck.”

Gratitude flooded me, along with a surprisingly potent affection given we’d just met. The feeling, I knew, was more than just a result of the beer in my belly. Our impromptu meal and conversation had been marked with an ease of companionship I hadn’t felt since before Ascension. He’d touched me, too, but unlike the Prime, he was warm, engaging, and relatable.

Before I could rein in the impulse, I asked, “Dinner tomorrow?”

Surprise flared in his eyes, quickly replaced by pleasure. “Absolutely. Have a good night, Fiona.”

I was still staring at the closed elevator doors when, from somewhere behind me, a low voice said, “Before you launch into dangerous territory, I should warn you that Declan is romantically involved with a shifter in his pack.”

My beer buzz vanished in a flash. I turned, meeting the gaze of the Prime. He leaned against the library doorjamb, dressed casually in black lounge pants and a white T-shirt that stretched across his broad shoulders. Muscled arms were crossed over his chest; he looked like he’d been watching me awhile.

I stuffed down my embarrassment. “I asked you to stop reading my mind.”

“I didn’t. There was lift in your core body temperature and the release of pheromones. I smelled the direction of your thoughts.”

I blinked. “That’s disturbing. And invasive.”

“I agree,” he said mildly. “I would prefer not to smell you at all. Your odor is exceedingly distracting.”

Heat bloomed in my cheeks and I stifled the urge to sniff my armpit. I couldn’t remember if I’d used the deodorant Mal had packed.

Gritting my teeth, I said, “It’s not my fault you don’t like the shampoo left in the shower.”

His full lips thinned. “That’s not what I meant.”

This man was going to make me pull my hair out by the roots. “What did you mean, then?” I growled.

His eyes flashed dark. “You smell unlike any human I’ve ever met. I can only speculate it’s due to your Ascension.”

Huh. I hadn’t been expecting that.

I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer, but still asked, “What do I smell like?”

His nostrils flared and his eyes darkened even further. I didn’t realize I’d moved backward until my spine connected with the elevator doors.

“Like a summer thunderstorm,” he murmured, then shook his head sharply. The darkness in his eyes fled, revealing the familiar wry, leafy green depths. “Come into the library, please. There’s someone I would have you meet.”

As he turned, I said, “Wait,” and when he faced me, I pointed at the side of my head. “Were you going to mention this?”

His brows rose. “I assumed the mirror in the bathroom was mention enough.”

“It was fogged up.” I made my feet carry me toward him. “It happened because of the lightning bolt, didn’t it? You probably know that was a first for me.”

He nodded. “That was my conclusion, yes.”

The closer I moved to him, the more imposing he became. Taller than Declan, though more slender, everything about his lithe build screamed predator. Somehow, too, he was even scarier in casual garb than in a suit. I no longer wanted to see him in a gladiator costume—I’d probably faint.

The memory of his bare chest flashed in my mind and I forcefully countered the thought with one from the Colosseum: black eyes and fangs intent on biting me.

I stopped several feet from him and gazed into his eyes. A dangerous risk, but necessary. My dad had taught me that when you met someone who scared you, sometimes the only defense was a bluff. The Prime needed to know I wasn’t afraid of him. Or at the least, that my fear of him couldn’t control me.

His eyes remained neutral green, his expression aloof. I frowned at him. “Why am I immune to Samantha’s power but not yours?”

When Connor Thorne smiled fully, I wouldn’t be surprised to find out the world tilted a little on its axis. A dimple appeared in his left cheek and small, charming creases fanned from the corners of his eyes. I’ll admit, I was a little dumbstruck. And though I might wish to blame it on his vamp glamour, the truth was more primal. He was, quite simply, the most attractive man I’d ever seen.

“I’m somewhat unique,” he replied blithely.

I pulled together my scattered wits. “Is that why I can’t sense your aura?” The sucking void of his power, that I’d felt in my dad’s office in L.A., had been absent in our interactions since.

His smile softened. “No. You can’t sense it because I choose for you not to. Your sensitivity to auras and your ability to see magic are highly unusual qualities. Whether they’re linked to your Ascension or predate it remains to be seen. Regardless, your lack of sufficient defenses makes these abilities problematic in my presence.”

“I didn’t sense auras before Ascension,” I countered, then frowned. “Wait, are you saying your power is so great you’d fry my brain?”

All traces of humor vanished from his face and eyes. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.” He gestured to the doorway. “Come inside. We’ve kept our guest waiting long enough.”

I bit my tongue and walked past him, straight into a book lover’s dream. Every wall except the one boasting high, paned windows was covered in dark shelving. A combination of recessed and modern pendant lighting illumined hundreds of tightly packed books, richly woven rugs, distressed leather couches, and an eclectic assortment of cushioned chairs.

From a chair near the windows rose a slim, gray-haired woman. She was eighty if she was a day, and garbed in familiar white robes. Her face was heavily lined, but with the kind of wrinkles that bespoke a life well lived rather than too much time in the sun.

“The fifth Opal,” I said, mostly to myself.

Lively dark eyes scanned my face. “Fiona Sullivan,” she said in a clear voice. “You look just like your mother. I’m curious, were your eyes blue like hers before Ascension, or have they always been gray?”

The breath in my lungs stilled. My heartbeat drummed a staccato rhythm in my ears.

“What did you say?” I whispered.

The Prime touched my arm, I think maybe to comfort me, but I jerked away, hissing, “Don’t touch me.”

The Opal glanced curiously between us. Whatever she saw on the Prime’s face seemed to amuse her. The slight smile fell, however, when she looked at me again.

“I can see I’ve shocked you, which was not my intention. Will you sit and allow me to explain why I’m here?”

My muscles remained locked. “If it has anything to do with my mother, I’m not interested.”

She nodded. “I will not speak of Delilah.”

Delilah.

Gah, I hated that name.

The Opal settled back into her seat. I took the one opposite hers, while across the room, the Prime dropped onto one of the couches. He swung his legs onto the adjacent cushions and folded his arms behind his head, settling back to watch us with an avid gaze.

I returned the mage’s scrutiny with a glare, as mention of my mother turned me into a raging antagonist.

“You know me, but I don’t know you.”

My companion merely smiled. “My name is Alisande Salvator. Yes, I’m an Opal Mage, though I was one long before Ascension changed the world. Back then, I was called a witch.” She glanced briefly at the Prime. “I’d like to perceive your magic, if you’ll allow it.”

I shifted, the words pinging discordantly. “I don’t have any magic.”

“Ah,” she said, like it was a revelation. My scalp tingled unpleasantly. I blamed the pale corona of power crackling around her. “Perhaps magic isn’t the most accurate term. Your sensitivity to auras and magical resonance, then.”

Instinctively, I looked at the Prime. He was watching me, one eyebrow lifted, lightly mocking and blatantly