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

After she scrawled it across his arm.

With a shining smile, Cassandra sashays past. “Looking forward to it.”

Tristan pulls his hand down his face, wanting to groan aloud. Surely that didn’t just happen. Maybe he should’ve said no, talked to Zarius or Tess. Maybe he’s wrong.

Except the slip of paper is still on the floor. Tristan picks it up, and the burnt edge crumbles between his fingers.

He’ll explain this to Brielle. Once she truly grasps what hinges on finding the Zodiac Heirs, she’ll understand. He crushes the paper in his fist, striding down the empty hall.

Any other outcome isn’t even worth considering.

That evening, Cassandra’s already waiting at the restaurant, Chez Monet, insisting on meeting Tristan there. He’d joked that she doesn’t want her parents knowing who she’s going out with and Cassandra had giggled…but not denied it.

Tristan had shrugged it off, though. He’s not out to impress her parents, or anyone else. He has more important things to do.

Like find out whether Cassandra’s a Zodiac Heir.

As Tristan approaches, he’s glad he went to the effort of a collared shirt and brushing his hair, because Cassandra has knocked it out of the park. She slinks toward him in a dark blue number that almost has Tristan’s jaw dropping. How the hell is that thing staying up?

Cassandra smiles. “Hey.”

Tristan’s suddenly uncomfortable. Cassandra’s gone to a lot of effort to look the way she does, when he’s not interested in anything like that.

Unless she’s your soulmate…

Tristan has to hide his startle. If Cassandra’s a Zodiac Heir, there’s a chance she could be.

Something in him screams a denial as Brielle’s face flashes through his mind. But the Universe chose his soulmate, just like it chose each one of the Heirs. He doesn’t get a say…

“Are you okay, Tristan?” Cassandra’s brow crinkles in concern.

Get it together, man! He grins. “Sorry, my brain just flatlined for a second. You look amazing.”

Cassandra’s smile is dazzling. “Training six days a week means I get to wear dresses like this.” She twirls and the layers of blue skirt fan out.

“Well, that’s not fair. I train seven days a week and I don’t get to wear anything as cool as that.”

Cassandra laughs, the sound bright and bubbly and Tristan’s grin grows. If he can keep things platonic, this date might actually be fun.

He holds the door open for her. “Shall we?”

Inside, the restaurant is quiet and elegant—kinda what Tristan expected when Cassandra suggested the place. It’s obvious she comes from money. The waiter takes them to a back corner and pulls out a chair for Cassandra.

She sits down before Tristan can think of a reason to object. Having his back to a roomful of people always makes him uncomfortable—you never know who could be approaching you. When the waiter sees Tristan standing there, he comes around to pull out his chair, too. Tristan quickly slides in before he has a chance—he’s never had anyone hold a chair for him, and he’s not about to start.

“Nice place,” comments Tristan as they both check out the menu.

“One of the few that my father doesn’t own,” replies Cassandra. She places her menu down. “I’m going to go with the Greek salad. No feta.”

Tristan glances at her, thinking he’ll have the steak. “For entrée or as a side?”

She folds the menu and pushes it to the side. “For mains, silly. My coach has me on a strict diet during training season.”

Zarius tried that, except he likes Tess’s baking too much.

“Isn’t track season almost finished?”

Cassandra rolls her eyes. “Tell that to my dad.”

Tristan makes a mental note. Cassandra chose to come to a restaurant her father wouldn’t know about, and yet he’s dictating what she eats. Obviously a rebel on a tight leash.

The waiter reappears and delivers their drinks—a soda for Tristan and sparkling water for Cassandra. He takes their orders and retreats with a stiff bow.

Tristan leans forward, focusing on the pretty girl across from him. “So, Cassandra. You’re obviously popular. Quite the all-rounder, so a high achiever. Gorgeous. Confident. And a calorie counter thanks to a whip-cracking father.” He smiles, angling his head. “What else should I know?”

Her eyes twinkle, impressed with his assessment. “That when I like something, I go for it,” she purrs.

Tristan arches a brow. “And you like getting under Brielle’s skin.”

It’s obviously why she took such a strong interest in Tristan.

Cassandra laughs again. “Maybe in the beginning. But I like you, Tristan.” She shrugs a bare shoulder. “I get the sense we’re going to click.”

Tristan draws back, a little disarmed by her honesty. She’s right. Talking to Cassandra is easy. She’s fun, she’s bold. Would this be what it’s like with his soulmate?

Unbidden, Brielle’s face comes to mind again. She’s reticent, but she has layers Tristan is itching to peel back. And he’s thinking about her as he sits across from Cassandra.

She props her chin in her hands as she leans forward. “So, what are you into, Tristan Ayers?”

Aliens. Finding the good ones. Learning martial arts so I can fight the bad ones.

Tristan knows this is his opportunity to put some feelers out. Usually he jokes that he’s a film buff, particularly alien movies like Men in Black, War of the Worlds…E.T. Then he asks the person if they think aliens could be real.

But as his gaze flicks to Cassandra’s hand wrapped around her glass of water, Tristan wonders whether he should ask what superpower she’d love to have. It’s not so much her answer he’ll be watching, but her body language. A widening of the eyes. Withdrawing her hand. Her blue gaze sliding away.

She’s looking at him expectantly but then she focuses past his shoulder. Her eyes definitely widen and her hand withdraws as she sits back.

But then an unexpected smile trips up her lips, and her hand slides across the table as she leans forward. Uneasiness slithers up Tristan’s spine. There’s something about that smile…

Cassandra’s hand doesn’t stop until it’s resting on his, her