Burning Skies, May 2011
Guardians of Ascension #2
by Caris Roane
St. Martin's Press
Featuring: Marcus Amargi; Havily Morgan
448 pages ISBN: 0312533721 EAN: 9780312533724 Mass Market Paperback
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"A guilty pleasure for vampire and sci-fi lovers!"
Reviewed by Elizabeth Crowley
Posted May 29, 2011
Romance Paranormal
Before Marcus Amargi was the owner of a multibillion dollar
empire, he was a member of the Warriors of the Blood. The
warriors are a powerful group of winged vampires who reside
in a second dimension of earth. Marcus has long since
broken with his days as a warrior, but his true mate's
erotic nightly visits and Second Earth's High
Administrator's less than subtle messages keep reminding
Marcus of the unfinished business he left behind. Second
Earth is actually a second dimension of earth. It occupies
the same place as mortal earth, but only ascended mortals
can become reach earth's second dimension. Mortals destined
for Second Earth are drawn to a borderland and demonstrate
some type of extrasensory gift. Marcus knows he left behind a huge part of his life on
Second Earth. Having lived for over 4,000 years, the former
warrior has many happy memories, but loss and pain also
haunt him. It is only when Marcus discovers that his true
mate, Havily Morgan, has been targeted by a dangerous
legion of vampires known as death vampires that Marcus
takes up his sword again and returns to Second Earth. Second Earth's Supreme High Administrator, Endelle, cannot
imagine why the death vampires would show an interest in
someone as insignificant as Havily. During her time on
Second Earth, Havily has yet to show any extraordinary
gifts to contribute to the ongoing war with Commander
Greaves and his entourage of death vampires. But when
Havily begins to display gifts which rival Endelle's,
Marcus realizes his true mate is in mortal danger. BURNING SKIES is a vampire and sci-fi lovers delight! Not
only is Second Earth populated by winged vampires, but they
also communicate by telepathy and travel by folding
(dematerializing). Although there isn't much blood drinking
in the novel, readers will hardly notice due to the well
developed plot and entertaining characters. Second Earth's
Supreme High Administrator, also known as Her Supremeness,
is undoubtedly the most hilarious character I've
encountered in a book so far! Endelle swears like a sailor
and tells it like it is without giving a second thought to
diplomacy. This is a highly entertaining read!
SUMMARY
THE HUNGER WITHIN A vampire warrior in exile, Marcus Amargi resists the call
to return to the ranks of the Guardians who fight the death
vamp armies. Here on Mortal Earth, Marcus has another battle
on his hands—the seductive lure of Havily Morgan. The woman
meant for him. Whose blood he craves. The one who comes to
him in dreams—and demands his surrender… THE FIRE UNLEASHED A beautiful immortal with extraordinary powers, Havily lives
in the realm of Second Earth but, in her fantasies, yearns
for her winged lover Marcus. Soon, their bond will be put to
the ultimate test. When their bloodthirsty enemies set the
night on fire with sky-blazing weapons, Marcus and Havily
must unite body and soul, to unleash the full power of their
passion—and fight fire with fire…
Excerpt
The undead.
A state of being.
Not of vampires
But of the lost and lonely.
Oh, heart that cries,
Live and
Be satisfied.
– Collected Poems, Beatrice of
Fourth Chapter One Got a death-wish, handsome?
Marcus heard the woman’s voice in his head but the sound
was like gears grinding. He refused to respond.
He hit the gas harder on his Harley, leaned, took the
curve in the road with ease, felt the vibration up both
arms and smiled.
He wore sunglasses on a sunless Pacific Northwest day.
Even in June, the weather could pile up overhead. It did
today so he took the mist and occasional rain in his face
and still he smiled.
The retro Harley had arrived a week ago, and he’d
finally left his boardrooms long enough to take the hog
over to the Olympic Peninsula. He cruised the coastal
route preferring views of the wild ocean waters to the
depths of forest, at least today. Sometimes he liked
disappearing into the narrow inland roads where the
conifers towered overhead and an entire world lived in
shadow.
Hey, slow down gorgeous. You aren’t that
immortal.
Go home, he sent, his mind to her mind.
The answer is the same…no.
Endelle, the Supreme High Administrator of Second Earth,
was in his head again as she had been off and on for weeks
now. He was tired of the same old, same old—‘come back to
Second Earth, return to the Warriors of the Blood, to take
up your sword, serve my sorry ass’.
She might not have said, ‘serve my sorry ass’. Those
were his words and like hell he was going to do that.
He’d cut off his left nut first.
Aw, warrior, don’t be like that.
Yeah, the bitch was back, somehow watching him, somehow
reading his mind, somehow talking straight into his head
and making another run at his sanity. She was one powerful
vampire.
She was also a piece of work. Endelle had served Second
Earth as Supreme High Administrator for most of her nine
thousand years and she’d lost her subtlety her first day on
the job. He loved her and hated her. Right now, she was a
gnat in his head and he didn’t have the means to swat her
away. He sighed. There was no way he’d be getting rid of
her until she’d had her say.
Whatever.
He went faster, twisting the accelerator, pushing the
bike to its limit, to that place where the wheels almost
broke loose and threw him into a deadly spin. Almost.
He used his preternatural senses to gauge the trajectory
of each dip and turn in the wet road. He extended his
hearing, so he could determine what cars or trucks were
headed in his direction and just how soon they’d pose a
threat. See, he was being safe. Sort of.
Endelle had one thing right; he wasn’t that
immortal. No vampire was completely immune to death.
If he slammed hard enough into a wall of rock, or got his
head cut off in a sword fight, yeah he’d be dead.
So just how much of a death-wish was this?
He wore black leather, the only time he did. Leather
kept the cold out, the moisture out. As he pushed along
the coast, he was on a high. He felt good, a
sensation that escaped him most days…and nights. For a man
with billions, God his life sucked.
“I’ll ask you again,” Endelle said, only this time her
breath was in his ear. “You got a death-wish or what,
warrior?”
“Endelle, what the fuck?” he shouted into the wind.
Her body was now plastered against him from behind. “What
are you doing here?” One slip of his control and the bike
would slide away from him, do a few flips, send him
barreling into oblivion.
“You must be going eighty, ninety miles an hour. What
gives?”
He gritted his teeth. Words punched out of his
mouth. “Get off my bike.”
“Mm.” She wiggled her hips. “This feels good.
And those vibrations…straight up my ass. I might just
have to get me one of these.”
“What the hell do you want?” he cried.
“You know why I’m here.” She cuddled closer, her arms
around his waist.
“I’m not going back,” he cried.
She fingered his hair. Who do you think you’re
kidding,” she responded, sending the words straight
into his head. You’ve been letting your hair grow and
we both know what that means. A few more months and you’ll
have warrior hair.
The hell I will and get out of my head. He
didn’t ease back on the speed.
He felt her sigh as she hugged him hard. “I need a
man,” she shouted.
“Not gonna be me,” he shouted back, dipping the bike as
the road curved to the left.
“Wasn’t asking, asshole.”
The arms disappeared. The warm press of body as well.
Thank God.
The next second, however, she materialized on his
handlebars, her knees in his face. He had to lean a little
to see the stretch of road in front of him. It was
somewhat straight for at least a few hundred yards.
Shit.
“Dammit, Endelle! Get off my fucking bike!”
She was dressed in black leather from head to foot
except for the small red feathers that trimmed the V of her
vest. Come back to us, she sent. We need
you, warrior.
She leaned close and now he really couldn’t see the
road, just the depth of her cleavage above a really low-cut
leather vest, trimmed with red feathers. Her bare arms
were wet from the rain and mist.
Fuck.
He had one of two choices—cliff leading to the ocean or
mountain wall.
Yeah, fuck.
He swung to the right and went over the cliff. “You are
such a bitch,” he shouted, hitting airspace.
With preternatural speed and a bit of levitation, he
folded off his black leather jacket and black t-
shirt and at almost the same time, mounted his wings
midair. He turned into the wind, and headed….down. He had
power and he was fast, goddamn fast, but not faster than
the gravity which took his bike down a slope of seaside
cliff. His Harley bounced off a couple of trees, slid over
stone outcroppings then landed in a huge-ass fucking pile
of driftwood about thirty yards from the surf.
He let the obscenities fly.
The gasoline in the tank did a nice pop-and-flare that
turned to a pitiful stream of black smoke under the
drenching mist and rain.
He trained his wings into the off-shore breeze so that
he didn’t roll. He hovered above the wreck, his mouth
still a tumble of profanity.
“Aw. Too bad.” Endelle now stood on the largest water-
stripped log, looking down at the wreck, her arms folded
over her leather-feather chest. She didn’t smile as she
lifted her gaze to him. She just stared. Damn, her eyes
looked ancient. He always forgot that about her. Vampire
life gave longevity in muscle, skin and bone, youth
returned and savored, but the eyes never lied.
She smiled. “You ready to stop playing spoiled-little-
rich-boy? You ready to do some man’s work again?”
He flipped her off as he drew in his wings, supporting
himself in the air with old-fashioned levitation. As soon
as the last of the feathers and connecting mesh support
disappeared into his back, he folded to his house
on Bainbridge Island, straight to the master bedroom. He
thumped his way to the bathroom, shoulders hunched, fists
so tight that both arms hurt. He stripped, got seven
showerheads to steaming then stepped into his shower.
“Damn, Marcus, how much you been working out? You have
the ass of a god.”
He turned to face her and naturally her gaze fell to his
jewels. She shook her head and sighed. “You Warriors are
so fucking hung and I really do need a man.”
“Get the hell out of my bathroom. Get the hell out of
my house and get the hell out of my life.” He turned to
face the water, grabbed soap and lathered.
“You don’t have a choice on this one.”
“The hell I don’t. You had one favor. You called it
in. I served. We’re done.”
“That was four months ago. I’ve decided I get another
one. You do a lot of squat thrusts? Hey, what’s with the
mist? And do you really think I can’t see through that
shit?” She snorted. “But if you’re feeling modest,
mist away.”
Mist. He should have known better than to try. Mist
was designed to confuse the mind and a powerful mist could
confuse the mind of mortals and ascenders alike—just not
the leader of Second Earth. Endelle was too damn
powerful. Still, it was his bathroom and privacy would
have been nice.
He stopped talking. There was no point. Endelle was as
stubborn as the rotation of the earth. But then, so was
he. She ought to know that. He wasn’t four millennia for
nothing.
“Morgan’s not sleeping very well,” she said.
At that, he stopped moving the soap around his chest.
Endelle rarely called Havily by her first name.
Havily Morgan.
Oh. God. Havily. The woman meant for him. The one he
craved. The one he fantasized about making love to every
goddamn night.
So the fuck what? he sent, the soap moving
again.
“She told me about the fennel, vampire.”
“What fennel?”
“She smells you, warrior. You know what that means.”
“Don’t call me warrior. I’m a businessman and
I’m not going back. Not for you. Not for Havily. Not for
anyone. I belong here. I’m happy here.” Sort of.
Besides, he’d made one helluva life for himself on Mortal
Earth and after seeing the war up close and personal again,
he wasn’t having it, not any part of it.
“Morgan drags into work every morning now. You know
anything about that?”
He rinsed off, left the shower, pushed past her and
grabbed a towel. He dried his hair first then worked his
way down his body. Yeah, he knew something about why
Havily might not be sleeping very well. It was his dirty
little secret and the hell if he was going to share it with
Endelle. What was going on between them was private, a
word Endelle respected about as much as she respected his
mental shields.
“That’s what I thought,” she murmured. “You’ve been
getting into her pants with noone the wiser. You
enthralling her or what?”
At that he rose up and glared, straight into her brown
eyes. “You think so little of me that you believe I would
enthrall her?”
“No. I don’t. I just can’t figure out what’s going on
because that little twat of yours has shields I have one
helluva time bypassing.”
He glared a little more then his gaze dropped to the red
feathers. They were small, crimson, beautiful. “What are
they and where are you getting them?” One of his
corporations operated in the fashion industry. Yeah, he
was a businessman first.
“A little import shop on Central Two. They come from
Mortal Earth. Someone’s raising cardinals in Tucson.
Don’t worry. It’s organic. The feathers are collected
after the birds are slaughtered.”
“You’re a walking PETA nightmare.”
“You gone vegan on me, or what?”
“No. I still eat steak.”
She looked him up and down. “I know what you mean.
Still prefer meat myself.”
He rolled his eyes, swung the towel around his hips, and
strolled into his bedroom. Apparently he wasn’t getting
rid of the bitch until… Labor Day…maybe. And here it was
only June.
“Spill it, Endelle. I have meetings this evening until
ten.”
He heard her sigh as he worked his way through his sock
drawer. He glanced at her and frowned a little. Sighing
wasn’t high on Endelle’s list. He straightened up. “You
worried about hurting my feelings?”
“No. It’s just one more fucking thing I can’t control.
So, here it is. I’ve been getting this feeling
lately that something’s going on with Morgan,
something big. And…I’m worried. I know you’ve been seeing
her, somehow, though I haven’t got the how of it
figured out yet, but just be careful, would you? And if
something out of the ordinary happens, be prepared.”
“You never liked her.”
She jerked her arms at him, her fingers spread cat-like,
then shouted, “What the fuck does that have to do with
anything? The truth is, I never gave a shit about Havily
Morgan one way or the other except that she’s been just one
big fucking disappointment from the day she ascended. You
wouldn’t know about that because you’ve been here tickling
your balls for the last two centuries, but her rite of
ascension was a BFD with no payoff. The future streams
were all lit up about her, that she needed
protection, lots of it, that she would make this huge
contribution to the war.
“So, of course I gave her Luken as her Guardian of
Ascension. I’m rubbing my hands together thinking now
we’ve got something, now we’ll see some real shit. Then
she ascends and all she’s got are some super powerful
mental shields that make it hard to get into her head.
That’s it. Shields. What the fuck good are
shields to the war effort?”
He couldn’t help but smile. She probably wasn’t even
aware that she was now standing on the arms of the leather
club chair near the window.
She looked down at her stilettos. “Shit. I just
punched holes in your chair. Ooooh. I feel sooo bad.”
He wagged his head back and forth then moved to the side
of his bed. With a pair of socks in one hand and the towel
snug around his waist, he sat down. “You’re too
impatient,” he said. “You always were. Some powers emerge
over time. Look at Kerrick. He can fold now,
right? He had all that power but until he completed the
breh-hedden with Alison, he couldn’t fold,
now he can. I couldn’t fucking levitate for the first
thousand years. Havily’s only a hundred years on Second
Earth. Give her time.”
Thoughts of the breh-hedden stopped his mind
for a moment. He still couldn’t believe that the breh-
hedden had actually touched his life. For centuries,
this extreme form of ritual mate-bonding between Warriors
of the Blood and powerful women was believed to be nothing
more than a myth. Then it had hit Warrior Kerrick when his
breh, Alison Wells, began her rite of ascension
four months ago. Shortly after, Marcus had been struck
down as well.
“Listen up, asshole,” Endelle cried, “because you may
have just made both my points. First, I don’t think she’s
got time because I have this sinking pit of a feeling in my
chest about her. Do you hear me?”
He stared at her, the hair on the nape of his neck
rising, but he said, “You’re screeching like a bad actress
off-Broadway. Why the drama?’
She narrowed her eyes. “And my second point, asshole,
is that I think Havily needs you to get her where she needs
to go. She’s holding back. Big time. I think she’s more
powerful than she knows but she can’t let go. You could
help with that. You’ve got a lot of vampire years under
your belt.” She smiled. “By the way, that float-and-mount
you did, watching your wings come while you just hung
midair, that was some powerful shit.”
Whatever, he sent. He tossed the pair of socks
into the air then caught them. He did this again and
again.
“Not coming back,” he stated. Maybe if he said it often
enough, she’d take the hint. “But…I will watch out for
Havily.” He couldn’t help that. It was in his nature and,
yeah, the breh-hedden had struck hard four months
ago when he’d been back on Second Earth to help out for a
few days. It had started with catching the scent of
honeysuckle and ended with a kiss that almost turned into
full-on sex—in less than a minute. Jesus, when he thought
of what he’d almost done to Havily that last night and what
she’d almost let him do… Christ.
None of it mattered, though. Havily lived on Second
Earth. He lived on Mortal Earth.
Except at night. She came to him in his dreams—that
weren’t dreams—every night.
Endelle sighed. Again. “Whatever, asshole. But if
something happens to her because you can’t be bothered,
then that shit’s on your head.” She lifted her hand and
she was gone. Finally.
He sat with the towel around his hips, his socks once
more in his hand, his feet flat on the floor.
Endelle was right. Something was going on with Havily
because from the first night that he’d folded back
to Mortal Earth, she’d been coming to him while he slept.
And as much as he wanted to believe it was just a dream or
some kind of weird-ass ascended fantasy, she was real. She
was also really naked.
He would wake up with her either balanced on his hips or
in the act of impaling herself on his rigid cock. She just
wasn’t aware of what she was doing, at least not initially,
because she appeared to be caught in a dream.
The trouble was—and his conscience beat the shit out of
him for this—he couldn’t seem to bring himself to stop this
nightly ritual or whatever the hell it was. Partly because
he couldn’t quite make sense of what was happening between
them or even where they were…exactly. His bed remained the
same, but the room faded to a line of very dark shadows all
around the edge as though he was someplace other than his
house on Bainbridge.
When it had first happened, he really had believed he’d
been caught up in some kind of freak-shit preternatural
dreamscape so he’d helped himself to the experience,
savoring her body. Unfortunately, his enthusiasm as he
grabbed her, forced her to awaken, and she fled,
dematerializing from his arms. So it had been real, but
not real, a dream, but not a dream. All he knew was that
his skin carried her honeysuckle scent until he showered
the next morning. The experience was real, even
though he couldn’t explain how it was real.
So help him God, he hadn’t turned her away once, but he
should have.
God help him, he should have.
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