Fallen Embers (Fallen Guardians #9)

Chapter 14

Chapter

Fourteen

Exhaustion weighing her down, Nia groaned and buried her heated face in her pillow as last night came back to haunt her.

What the hell was I thinking?

This was all her fault. She started it by touching him again.

She’d only meant to thank him for healing her, but his kiss… It had stirred something deeper than just a physical desire within her. A yearning. The connection between them continued to tug at her.

Despite his aloof demeanor, he cared about her—something she’d never had in her family. Mentally, she kicked herself for being so needy, for letting it make her vulnerable to him.

With a muffled groan, she thumped her face into her pillow. She had to find a way to sever this draw to him. It couldn’t go anywhere.

She curled into a ball, not wanting to get up, but delaying wouldn’t change anything. She had to face him, face another change in her life, and say goodbye to the only family she’d had, no matter their differences.

Sighing, Nia rolled out of bed and shuffled to the bathroom as that ever-present energy and heat swamped her, causing her hands to tingle and her core to ache.

Damn. Being this so-called descendant of the Watchers was a pain in the ass.

A cold shower later, dressed in a black pantsuit and heeled boots, Nia pulled her hair into a smooth chignon and fastened it. Thankfully, the heat within had subsided a bit. She grabbed her cell and coat and paused, her belly churning at the thought of seeing Lore again.

With a deep inhale, she made her way downstairs.

Lore stood at the tall windows, staring outside, his deep red hair tied into a ponytail. What surprised her was he actually wore a suit.

He turned. No tie, just an open collar. Black on black did look good on him.

Nia was dead sure he didn’t mean to, but his gaze did a slow up and down of her in the way a man would give a woman he wanted. Her foolish heart leaped.

“Stop it.” She hardened her expression. “I’m just a human you’re guarding, remember?”

His gaze lifted to hers. “Then why can’t I remember that whenever I see you?”

Her jaw slackened, his comment shocking her. “What? Wait, you think this is my fault?”

“No,” he muttered, tone edged with frustration.

That made both of them.

At least he hadn’t thrown it in her face that she’d started all this by kissing him first.

“I don’t know what you want from me, Lore. I don’t want to play this guessing game.” She set her phone on the kitchen counter, pulled on her long coat, and glanced at him. “Look, I have to go to my grandmother’s funeral. You don’t have to come. Saia’s brothers will be there. They’ll keep me safe. Stay here so you don’t have to spend any more time with me than necessary.”

“You are under my care.” There was no give in his flat tone, but a tic worked his jaw.

Christ, she was so damn tired of hearing that.

With shaky hands, she tied her coat belt and grabbed her cell. He opened the patio door and waited.

Wonderful. Travel his way and be close to him again.

With no energy to fight him over this, she headed for the door, feeling his dark stare like a visceral touch as she passed him. As she stepped out into the chilly, overcast day, the door shut. He came up behind her, and that impression of a cool breeze and wide-open spaces—of the infinite—surrounded her, cementing precisely what he was.

As if she needed the reminder.

“Where to?” he asked, his expression back to impassive.

Without a word, she unlocked her cell, Googled, and found the cemetery so he could visualize the place.

He stepped closer and angled his head as he studied the map with the thumbnail picture of the graveyard, then tapped on the image. His warm presence made her yearn to lean into him, seek comfort. But that wasn’t going to happen. Lore didn’t do comfort, didn’t do emotions at all. And being so close to him created an almost unbearable strain, trying to keep her composure.

He held out his hand.

She clenched hers.

“That’s futile when I have to touch you to flash us,” he rasped, and gripped her hand.

With a slight tug, he drew her to him, and a charge like that of electricity grazed her skin at their contact.

The backyard disappeared in a swirl of green trees and terracotta pots as he dematerialized them. They reappeared in a secluded corner behind a tall vault in a cemetery sporting fanciful tombs, headstones, and crypts. Nan had a crypt and would be laid to rest next to Grandpa, who had died long before Nia was born.

The dank, chilly afternoon did little to cool the constant heat within her. With a shaky breath, she stepped out from behind the vault and made her way toward the family crypt.

Nan’s friends didn’t bother concealing their cold stares as she passed, but their eyes widened at seeing Lore at her side as if they hadn’t expected someone like him with her.

In no state of mind to deal with their disdain, Nia kept her focus on the people gathering farther down.

“Why those looks, and I don’t mean the ones aimed at me?” Lore asked softly from her side.

“Don’t you know? I’m the worst of humanity. A freak. I see demons…” The lump in her throat swelled, her sarcasm dying.

“You’re not.” His tone grew stern, his stare flinty as he watched an old crone and her friend pass.

“My dearest Nia, I’m so sorry, ma chère .” At the thick Cajun accent, her stomach heaved, but she turned, her expression polite.

Leo Boucher hauled her into his bulky body. “Don’t fret, chère. You will always have me.”

The odor of moldy cheese and sweat blasted her square in the face. Nia nearly gagged. She pushed at his chest, but he wouldn’t let go, his fingers digging into her back.

“Do not touch her.” A column of warmth came up behind her, but Lore’s voice could have refrozen melted snow.

Leo hastily let her go. “I’m a friend of the family,” he huffed.

As if that gave him the right to manhandle her. He shuffled off, then glanced back, shooting her another of his oily looks.

Mouth tight, she made her way to the crowd that had gathered for the service. She stopped near the closed casket where the priest stood. People paid their last respects and streamed past her. Within the polite murmurs of condolences, she caught the critical and often disparaging eye flickers dispensed her way.

Nia tried to ignore them, keeping her attention on the colossal display of red roses draped over the lid. She never liked these stuck-up fat cats with their noses in the air.

The only people who mattered?—

“Nia!” Saia hurried over to her, looking lovely in a long black coat, dress, and boots. Her mate, Riley, remained a protective shield at her side. Saia’s parents followed them. After all, they were acquaintances of Nan’s and moved in the same circle.

Saia hugged her, her eyes dark with concern. “Are you okay?”

“As well as I can be,” she murmured.

“Nia.” Zayn came over and slid his arm around her, causing Lore to step back, giving her much-needed breathing space. “We got you.”

Her eyes swam with tears. Yes, they were the only ones who mattered.

Saia’s parents, Jemima and Edward Sen-Grayson, nodded at her. They were a tall, striking couple: Jemima, with her brown skin and a stylish bob, and Edward, lean and built, with fair hair. Unlike Nan’s other friends, they were always nice to her.

“Our deepest condolences, Nia dear,” Jemima said, touching her arm. Edward gave her a quick hug, eyes gentle with compassion. “If you need anything, just call.”

She nodded.

The priest finally carried out the last rites. “We gather here today in grief and love to remember the life of Cora Lucille Savoie Deveraux, who was a pillar of strength and support for our community and her beloved granddaughter, Rania…”

Beloved? What did he know? Nia shut him out.

Nan had merely tolerated her. She didn’t love her, not that she’d said so, but Nia saw the dislike in her often disapproving stare.

Nia slipped her chilled hands into her coat pockets, her attention fixed on the flattened weeds trodden over many times…and still, they survived.

She would, too…

Soon, it was over, and the guests began to depart. Nia remained as the pallbearers arrived.

“She gets all Cora’s wealth now,” a snide remark drifted to her.

Her stomach cramped, a chill seeping through her. Was that what they thought she wanted?

Zayn lowered his head to whisper, “Ignore those dour-faced grim reapers. They know nothing.”

Nia didn’t respond, too frozen to even attempt a smile.

“So.” Zayn nudged her shoulder with his, a smirk on his handsome face. “Should I be scared and run for the hills that an angel looks like he wants me drawn and quartered?”

“What?” That shook her out of her numbness. She tried not to look at Lore behind her, but with Zayn’s teasing comment, she glanced back, and her gaze clashed with his.

Hastily, she faced Zayn, her chest compressing. “No, that’s just how he is.”

“Mmm…” Zayn murmured noncommittally, putting an arm around her shoulders again. “So, what now?”

“I have to return to the mansion. The will’s being read this afternoon, and there’s the wake.”

“Okay. Let’s get out of here, then.” They made their way to the front, bypassing somber gravestones. “So, you’ll come by Satire later?”

“I don’t know.” She smoothed back her hair only to realize she’d put it in a bun. “Kas is still out here.”

“And we’ll be with you. And your angel.”

He isn’t mine.

“He won’t have the chance to get near her.” Lore moved from behind to walk alongside her, causing every nerve ending to flare.

Saia, in front of her, glanced back. “He wouldn’t dare, not with Riley and the rest of my brothers around.”

Riley’s gaze settled briefly on Lore. He inclined his head.

Lore gave a stiff chin dip.

Guess angels and demons would always be at loggerheads.

“Great then.” Zayn hugged her. “I’ll see you at Satire.” He kissed her cheek and strolled off.

“Let’s go,” Lore said, tone flat. He stood there like a stone statue.

Unable to deal with whatever crawled up his craw, she said, “My grandmother lived at?—”

“I know.” He led the way back to the taller vault that gave them privacy from the departing guests.

Right. Why ask her? He seemed to go to Google for everything.

A few minutes later, they reformed beneath the shadows of an enormous oak tree in the sprawling garden of Nan’s mansion in the Garden District.

Inhaling deeply, Nia instantly regretted it when his familiar scent of the great outdoors with a hint of citrus filled her lungs.

She stepped away, refusing to look into his hypnotic, otherworldly eyes that made her painfully aware of the vast divide between them. And yet, she couldn’t be angry with him. As long as he didn’t touch her or look at her in that way, she would be okay and could move past her attraction to him.

She studied the Romanesque Revival mansion with its exquisite blue sandstone exterior and many arches running along the terraced yard. It felt more like a historical museum than a home.

Memories she rarely allowed free flooded her…of the haunting nightmares after her parents’ death and being sent back to bed without so much as a hug or soothing word. She’d curled up into a ball in the corner of her massive room, petrified of the darkness, of red eyes watching her…

Her ability to see demons and the car crash always merged into one big nightmare.

Shutting out the past, she crossed the trimmed lawn, Lore a quiet presence at her side.

Her boot heels clicked on the tiled steps as Nia made her way to the enormous arched front door. She pressed the doorbell and, out of habit, straightened her spine as the heavy wooden panel opened, then reminded herself that Nan was gone.

Bennett, the butler, stood there, tall, lean, and as pale as newly fallen snow.

“Ms. Nia.” He dipped his head, his blue eyes somber, the only sign of sadness for his mistress.

In his own way, he’d been kind to a grieving child, bringing her milk and cookies at night when she first moved into the mansion.

“Hello, Bennett.” Nia entered the marbled foyer, which was adorned with the same flowers that were on Nan’s coffin, and removed her coat. The cloying sweetness in the air caused her stomach to churn as she handed her outerwear over. “This is Lore.” She introduced the silent angel.

Bennett nodded and shut the door, handing the coat to a maid who popped out of the woodwork. “Mr. Landry is in the study. I’ll show you?—”

“Thank you, Bennett, but there’s no need. I’m sure you have a lot to see to with the reception.” She straightened her jacket over her pants.

“Yes, Ms. Nia. I will see you later, then.” He inclined his head and departed on silent feet.

God, she really wished she didn’t have to be there for the reading. Whatever Nan had done, she wanted no part of it. The pressure inside her skull grew as she traversed the endless corridor with its vaulted ceilings, black-veined, gray marble floors, antique furniture, and flowers everywhere. She rubbed her aching temples.

“Are you okay?” Lore asked softly.

She lowered her hand, smoothed her cold fingers down her fitted jacket, and nodded.

Not like she could ever tell him the truth about her dysfunctional family. Heck, maybe he already knew everything—about that foolish little girl, starved for affection and holding out hope through the years, until finally, she moved out of the mansion at eighteen. Alone and unloved.

She turned left at the back of the mansion and stopped at a dark wooden door. She cast Lore a quick look and lowered her gaze to the undone top button of his shirt. “I don’t think he’ll allow you in for the reading.”

“You’re not going in there alone. Leave him to me.”

Her gaze rushed back up to his. With his features set in nonnegotiable lines, arguing was pointless. His eyes softened a fraction, and her heart thumped painfully.

She pivoted for the study door. “Then, I better get in there and find out why he wanted me here.”

Nia opened the door and entered the study.

Steve Landry looked up from some documents, his open briefcase set on the mahogany desk. He was a stick of a man, a suit on a coat hanger.

“Ms. Deveraux.” He nodded in greeting, setting the papers down. His attention slipped behind her, and he frowned at Lore.

“This is Mr. Landry, my grandmother’s attorney,” she told Lore.

Landry opened his mouth, then blinked, shook his head as if he couldn’t remember what he wanted to say, and indicated for her to take a seat.

It was the last thing she wanted, but she did, keeping her expression cool.

Lore moved to the window, probably to get a better view of the proceedings, and folded his arms over his chest, his attention nailed on the attorney.

“This won’t take long.” Landry shuffled through some papers in a file, but Nia didn’t pay him any notice, her gaze settling on the series of photos on Nan’s desk. A few were of her women’s group, and there was one of her parents. Her handsome blond father and her dark-haired, Creole mother, whom Nia had taken after. But none of Nia herself.

She wasn’t surprised. This was Nan’s private space, so why pretend that the granddaughter she barely tolerated was important to her?

“I’ll keep this brief,” Landry said. “Your grandmother, Cora Deveraux, left you?—”

“I don’t want anything.”

Landry blinked, the only break in his usually calm demeanor. He continued, “She left you a letter.”

Nia narrowed her eyes. “What?”

“A letter. Once you read it, we can proceed.”

“Why?”

“You will find out once you read it.” He slid the long envelope toward her.

Nia eyed it, a sense of dread taking hold. Heck, she wouldn’t be surprised if it contained a spell that would turn her to stone or something. She picked up the envelope and slit it open with the letter opener Landry handed over, then removed the single sheet of paper.

Since you’re reading this, I’m six feet under or contained in a cement vault,” the letter stated. “Well then, let us not waste time. As per my son’s, your father’s request, I became your legal guardian when they both died while you were still a child. My estate is vast, and I will not leave it to an obstinate girl who cannot manage her own life.

Nia inhaled sharply as she continued.

To keep my estate from being squandered, I have arranged a marriage between you and Leonard Boucher ? —

“No!” the word exploded from her as she leaped to her feet. “I will not!” She flung the letter onto the desk, her heart crashing against her ribs.

“You have a week to decide,” Landry said. “And yes, I was told to say that should you refuse.”

“My answer will still be the same!” Marry that lecherous old dingbat? Never!

“Nia?” Lore was at her side, his otherworldly eyes searching hers. “What is it?”

Anger roared like wildfire, and she glowered at him. “To inherit all this…” She waved a hand over the room. “And her estate, my grandmother arranged a marriage between me and that-that smarmy ass, Leo?—”

“The male who wouldn’t let go of you at the cemetery?”

She nodded, mouth tight, her fury incinerating her, causing the heat to soar and the prickling sensation in her palms to reignite.

“She will not.” Lore’s icy words startled her out of her anger.

“Yes, she has indicated this is her wish,” Landry murmured. “Very well, we shall proceed.”

Too furious with Nan and her conniving ways, even from the grave, Nia glared at the man.

He opened his file, removed another letter, and slid it to her.