Libra Ascending: An Epic Urban Fantasy Romance (Zodiac Guardians Book 1) by Tamar Sloan (adult books to read .TXT) 📗

“Spell?” Does Marie actually think Brielle’s a witch?

Marie leans forward, her lip quivering. “You did something to me yesterday, when you told me to tell Sister Agatha about the wine. Ever since then, I can’t think about anything else. I couldn’t sleep at all last night. I keep reliving that night, and all I can see when I close my eyes are the things Sister Agatha will do when she finds out. She would ground me, make it so I can never leave. She might even black ball me from getting adopted, like she did you.”

Brielle puts her hands up in a calming gesture. “Marie, it’s really not that big of a deal. I mean, yeah, you shouldn’t have snuck your boyfriend into the church, but Sister Agatha wouldn’t interfere with your adoption chances as punishment. I bet she’ll even go easier on you if you just tell her how bad you feel about it.”

The vulnerability Marie had briefly displayed vanishes, and she stomps her foot and clenches her fists. “I didn’t feel this way until you used your magic on me. You’re making me obsess about it until it drives me insane!” Her eyes mist over and she looks like she’s on the brink of crying.

“You can’t honestly think—”

Marie points her index finger at Brielle’s face. “Don’t! Just make it stop, or I swear I’ll find a way to prove you’re doing this and make sure you can never do it to anyone else!” She spins around and storms out.

Brielle stands motionless, staring down at the table she hasn’t finished setting. Marie is crazy, right? How can she accuse Brielle of putting some kind of hex on her? It’s not her fault that Marie’s obsessing about something she did that she clearly regrets doing. And now Marie is threatening to interfere with Brielle’s plans.

Just keep your head down, Brielle. Tread lightly. Stay out of everyone’s business and you’ll get through this.

But even as Brielle shakes her head and continues placing forks and knives on napkins, she can’t help but feel guilty.

It seems guilt is a tricky business, even when you know you’re innocent.

9

Tristan

“Show yourself, you bastards,” growls Tristan, taking a few steps further into the center of the parking lot.

Skins stay invisible till the last moment, knowing if someone is seen fighting off non-existent opponents it would raise too much attention.

But that doesn’t mean they don’t make the most of their advantage.

Tristan holds still, slowing his breathing. He simultaneously loosens his joints and locks his muscles. They’ll get close before they reveal themselves.

But there’s a reason he’s meeting them out here in the open. The parking lot is layered with gravel. They won’t be able to approach him silently.

There’s a scrape to his left. A crunch behind. Two always come from the front. That’s at least four.

Adrenaline floods Tristan as he spreads his legs, finding his center of gravity.

The blow he was expecting still slams through him like a hammer. His head snaps to the side, the punch landing him squarely in the jaw. Tristan absorbs the pain and the punch, gritting his teeth. A trickle of blood oozes from his lip.

Now he knows where the first one is.

His arm whips out, dealing a punch of his own. There’s an oomph and a man materializes before him, two more taking shape. There will be another behind him.

A leg flies out and Tristan ducks, his own foot shooting out to sweep the Skin he just punched. As the man crashes to the ground, Tristan leaps up, throwing all his strength into the uppercut that smashes into the next Skin’s jaw. The man launches into the air, arcing backward before slamming into the ground.

“That’s two down,” Tristan growls.

The Skin on his right roars, his eyes black with fury. He leaps at Tristan, his fists at the ready.

As he’s about to connect with Tristan’s chest, Tristan grasps his meaty fist and jerks. The man’s launched forward and Tristan kicks his back so he spears into the hard ground.

“That’s three,” Tristan pants, wiping the blood from the edge of his mouth.

He expects the man when he grabs him from behind, letting him yank his arms back. The Skin’s hands are like hot steel, the power of Chardis flowing through him. Tristan’s tendons scream as they’re stretched, but he waits.

The Skin will never see the flip coming. A twist and leap, using the man like a fulcrum, and Tristan will have the upper hand again.

Except Tristan doesn’t register the blow to his solar plexus coming. He goes to double over except the Skin behind him holds him up. It leaves Tristan open and vulnerable when then next one slams into him, wrenching out a groan. And the next.

And the next.

Pitch. There’s a fifth guy. And he’s figured he could stay invisible while his four friends were making a ruckus.

The final Skin appears, his broad face twisted with a grin. “Surprise,” he sneers.

The next punch slams into Tristan’s face, and it feels like it hammers his brain. For a brief moment, pinpoints of pain dance before him. He lets himself sag, wincing when the Skin holding him jerks him upright.

The Skin who pummeled Tristan steps forward and grips his chin. Leaning in, he shoves his face close. “How many are there?”

“Technically thirteen seeing as there are two Geminis,” Tristan drawls out, every word tasting like blood.

The crack across his face doesn’t surprise Tristan, but it still stings. He grins, knowing the blow was driven by frustration.

“How many Zodiacs are here?” the Skin shouts.

Tristan allows himself two panting breaths. Two shallow gulps of oxygen, hoping it’s enough for his battered body to do what needs to be done next.

“Just me.” Tristan winks. “Unless you have some royal blood no one knows about.”

The Skin steps back, glancing over Tristan’s shoulder. “Once we’re finished with him we’ll bring his sorry ass in. Chardis will know how to get the answers we need.”

The gap is all Tristan needs.

He pushes up