Bound Guardian Angel (64 page)

She took Gavin’s hand and stood. “Come over
here with the rest of us, okay?”

He reluctantly stood and shuffled his feet
as he followed her to the group congregated near the door. The
children looked exhausted. Faith could barely keep her eyes open
and was nestled against Trace’s side. He had his arm around
her.

“Brenna, why don’t you take the kids inside
and set them up in the spare bedrooms? I’ll be in in a minute to
help you get them cleaned up.” Everyone was covered with ash and
soot and needed baths.

“Sure.” Brenna stood and held out her arm in
round-up fashion. “Come on, kids. Let’s go inside.”

After everyone got some sleep, they would
pack up what they could and move into her mansion in the city for a
few days until the rubble could be cleaned up. Or at least until
the kids didn’t feel so traumatized about what had happened.

As soon as the door closed, leaving her
alone with Trace, she sat down next to him and nudged his arm.
“You’re special, too, you know.”

“Aw, you do care.” He nudged her arm,
flashing a crooked smile. “I heard what you said to Gavin. Thank
you.”

She frowned. “Why are you thanking me?”

“Because that’s exactly what he needed to
hear. Remember, I’ve been in his shoes. I know.”

She wrapped her forearm around his and
scooted closer. “Yes, you do, don’t you?”

He placed his hand over her arm, and then
they watched the water arc from the hose on the latest pumper truck
to arrive on the scene, splashing over the smoldering embers of
what was left of the dorm. Luckily, the fire department arrived and
got to work on the fire before it spread to the barn and the main
house, but the scent of smoke hung in the air and probably would
for days.

“I knew something wasn’t right about
Steffie,” he said after a few seconds had passed.

“Yeah, well something’s definitely going to
be wrong with her when I find her.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t taken off after
her already.”

She squeezed his arm. “A few days ago, I
probably would have, but now . . .?” She pressed
against him. “Some things are more important than retribution.”

He reached around with his free hand and
pressed his palm against her forehead. “Are you sure you’re feeling
okay?”

She pushed his hand away with a huff. “Don’t
get me wrong, I’m mad as fuck. But right now I can think of
someone”—she glanced over her shoulder at the door her kids had
disappeared through—“well, a lot of someones who need me more than
I need to punish her.” She eyed the dried blood on his face. “How’s
your nose?”

“I’ll live.” He wrapped his hand around
hers. “What about you? You’ve been putting on a strong front, but I
can feel your exhaustion. Are you okay?”

She gave him a tired smile and allowed her
shoulders to relax. “It’s been a long couple of days, but”—she
winked at him—“I’ll live.”

He grinned at the way she tossed his words
back at him.

The trucks finally pulled out a few minutes
after sunrise, leaving nothing but the sound of early morning
birdsong as nature greeted another day, oblivious to the tragedy
that had unfolded over the last several hours.

Nature had a short memory when it came to
disaster. Within months after a forest fire, new trees began to
grow. After forty years, no one even knew a fire had taken place.
All they saw along their hiking trail was lush vegetation.

Fire was a natural part of life. It was a
symbol of regeneration. Didn’t the mythical phoenix rise reborn
from its own deathly ashes?

She rested her head on Trace’s shoulder,
bone weary and so tired even her teeth hurt, but she didn’t want to
move. She just wanted to sit there, listening to the birds, more
alive than she’d ever been. How perfect that she could feel the
beautiful ache of exhaustion. The sting of the burn on her
hand.

Trace had given her that. Feeling.
Sensation.

Life.

Because the pains of life proved a person
was, in fact, alive, while granting a greater appreciation for more
pleasant sensations, such as the wash of cool morning air over her
skin, the kiss of the sun’s warmth as it broke the horizon.

The soft caress of lips on her forehead as
Trace kissed her.

For eight centuries, she’d been dead.
Unfeeling and existing, but not living. Now she’d been reborn, and
Trace was the spark that had burned her old self away to give rise
to the new.

He was her hero. He’d faced his greatest
fear and charged into the fire to get to her and the
kids . . . to save them. He’d walked through fire
and came out a changed male.

She smiled. “You’re like the phoenix,” she
said softly.

He tilted his head against hers. “Hmm?
What’s that you said?”

She lifted her head from his shoulder. “You
know. The phoenix. The mythical bird that dies in a shower of
flames, only to rise reborn from the ashes to live again.”

A slow smile spread over his face as he
turned toward the blackened remains of the dorm. “I feel reborn.”
He squeezed her hand.

“So do I, thanks to you.” An amused huff
broke past her lips. “A few weeks ago, I thought I hated you. I
wanted
to hate you. Hating you was easy, because it meant I
didn’t have to face the fears I’d carried around like a security
blanket for centuries. Facing my fears was hard. It was painful. It
was work. But”—she pressed against him and tightened her hold on
his arm as he wrapped his hand around the inside of her thigh and
pulled her closer, watching her intently—“anything worth having in
life is worth working for.”

Love and understanding seeped into the lines
of his face, along with a hint of amusement. “Are you saying I’m
worth working for?”

She sighed and tipped her forehead against
his cheek. “Don’t make this a thing, baby. I’m not used to being
all girly and sentimental like this. Don’t get used to it.”

“Ah, so this is a rare moment I should mark
on my calendar.”

She rocked her head side to side. “You’re
going to make this a thing. You are, aren’t you?”

He turned and kissed the top of her head. “I
wouldn’t dream of it, baby. You’re tough enough to kick my ass if I
do. And then I’d have to kick your ass. And then shit would just
get ugly.” Playful bravado laced his words.

She liked knowing the banter that had
defined their relationship since its inception still held a place
between them. Only now it was playful and endearing, not hurtful
and degrading.

“Damn straight I’d kick your ass.”

He chuckled. “Well, you know that shit turns
me on, so kick away, princess.”

“Don’t call me princess.”

He bit back a smile. “Oh, that’s right.
Beast master. I forgot.”

She shook her head. “Even after you walk
into a fire and get blown out a window, you still never turn off,
do you?”

“Nope.”

She let out an exasperated exhale. “Well, do
you think you can turn off long enough to go upstairs with me and
get a few hours of sleep before we have to pack up and head to my
place in the city?”

Humility and something else—something
mysteriously private—passed over his face as he glanced toward the
yard. His gaze seemed to stretch farther away than her property
extended, to some faraway place she couldn’t see.

“Trace?” She touched his arm.

He smiled at her. “Yeah, I’ll join you in a
minute. You go on up.”

She didn’t know what he saw, but she nodded.
“Okay, I’ll meet you inside.”

She got up, frowned curiously toward the
yard, and then left him alone.

Whatever he saw, he wanted to face it
alone.

And she was okay with that.

* * *

Trace pushed to his feet and grabbed the crutches
Cordray had given him. Tucking them under his arms, he hobbled down
the steps and across the yard to the enclosed fire pit.

Behind the wall of shrubs, his mother,
ghostly yet beautiful, waited for him.

“Mother?” Peacefulness washed over him.

“Trace . . .”

He stared at her, unable to speak.

“You’re free now,” she said.

Part of him wanted to be angry that she was
only just now showing herself, after all this time, but he simply
couldn’t find the emotion. All he felt was love.

She shimmered and touched his face. “Now you
understand.”

And he did. The answers flashed inside his
head like lightbulbs turning on. About his childhood. His power.
Her magic. Her death.

She’d died because that was how it had to
be. In death, she was more powerful than she ever could have been
in life. All this time, she’d been watching over him, guiding him,
protecting him. And she’d protected Brak and his father, too. But
she’d never let her presence be known, because he needed to find
his way without her. What he thought had been a lack of affection
turned out to be a lesson he’d had to learn to survive.

The years of guilt, the struggle to control
his power, the search for a mate and a place where he fit in. All
of it had been about learning how to rein in the magic she’d given
him so he could forge his own way into the future.

“You see?” she said. “You were always the
stronger one. Your power was always stronger than Brak’s. It’s why
your father and I were so hard on you. It’s why we treated you the
way we did. Because we loved you enough to put our selfish needs
aside. Every time you fell, we wanted to pick you up, hold you, and
take away your pain. But we knew if we did that, we’d be destroying
you. We had to be harder on you than we wanted to be so you grew up
strong enough to control your power.” She touched his hand. The
sensation felt like ice but calmed him anyway. “You’re strong
enough now.”

He’d thought his parents hadn’t loved him as
much as they’d loved Brak, but that wasn’t the case at all. They’d
loved him tremendously. Enough to put aside their own desire to
protect him. To ensure he grew up with the abilities to cope with
the power she’d gifted him inside her womb.

“I think I finally understand.” Tears
balanced on the rims of his eyes as he nodded. “I love you,
Mom.”

“I love you, Trace. Tell your father and
your brother I love them, too. That I’m always with
them . . . and you.”

He inhaled deeply, drawing in the scent of
jasmine he’d always associated with her. “I will.”

She took a step back as if preparing to
leave.

“Wait. Will I see you again?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“But—”

Her fading image smiled. “You’ll be fine.
You’ll all be fine, and I’ll always be nearby. Now, forge your
path, Trace. Forge it with your mate . . . with your
family . . . and be happy. That’s everything I ever
wanted for you.”

He watched her disappear, knowing that even
though he would never see her again, she would always be with him
in his heart. In his mind, she would be there. But no longer would
he see her as she’d been burning on the pyre outside their home
when he was a child. Instead, he remembered her for the amazingly
strong woman she’d been. Strong and fearless, facing death like a
warrior.

He grinned, recognizing in himself all the
qualities he now saw in his mother.

Just as Cordray had said, he was the phoenix
risen from the ashes of his troubled youth. No more was he the
terrified, victimized child burdened with guilt. He was a mature
male. A male who’d found his purpose, his path, and his mate. He
owned his power, not the other way around.

Glancing toward the fire pit, he pulled the
box of matches from his back pocket and tossed them into the grey,
powdery coals that had once been logs of wood. As he did, a weight
lifted off his soul. He’d faced his past, his fears, and his
demons. He no longer needed the matches to remind him of where he’d
come from and the dangers his power presented.

Feeling lighter than he ever had, he turned
and hobbled back to the house.

Cordray met him at the door. “Everything
okay?” Her inquisitive gaze explored his face.

He wrapped his arm around her waist and
guided her inside, where he pressed her against the wall and kissed
her. When he broke away, he stared deep into her sapphire eyes,
drinking in her soul. “Everything’s perfect. Just perfect.”

Chapter 42

Trace lay propped on his elbow, watching Cordray
sleep. It had been two days since the fire. Two days since he’d
said good-bye to his mother. It seemed like a lifetime.

Then again, every minute spent with Cordray
felt like a lifetime, but in the most glorious way.

Micah and Sam had agreed to take the kids
for the day, allowing him and Cordray much-needed alone time with
one another, especially since it felt like his calling was on the
verge of blowing wide open any moment. They hadn’t had ten minutes
to themselves since moving the kids, Mya, and Brenna into Cordray’s
North Shore mansion, and Trace had been nearly volcanic in his need
to claim her before Mya and Brenna had left with the kids this
morning.

They’d spent all day in bed. First they’d
fucked. Then made love. Then fucked some more. Until finally they’d
fallen into an exhausted, sated sleep.

Now Trace was awake, needing her again, but
wanting to watch her sleep even more. She was so beautiful as she
slept. Peaceful. Angelic. Her black and blue hair tousled and
strewn like silky tendrils over the pillow.

She lay on her back, angled toward him, with
her forearm over her stomach.

He leaned in and kissed the expanse of skin
along her collarbones, leaving a soft, tender trail from right to
left. Then pulled back and waited, smiling as she inhaled
deeply.

Her eyes fluttered open a couple of seconds
later, and she smiled when her gaze met his.

“Do you mind?” She stretched out beside him
like a giant cat, lithe and sleek, rolling to face him. “How many
times are you going to do that while I’m sleeping?”