Stone of Ascension

Dedication

The path to publication is never as solitary as the illusion of writing makes it out to be. For me, there were many people who helped along the way.

This includes my awesome and supportive critique partners Sue, Jennifer and Paula. Thank you for your time, feedback and insights into every aspect of this story. You girls are the best.

My beta readers Lori, Valarie and Corey whose thorough reads spotted the story holes with ruthless honesty that only made the book better. I’m still amazed at your willingness to help an unknown who invaded your book club. And to Cindy for being my cheerleader the whole way.

Most of all to my family. From my parents who never doubted my dreams and were there to pick me up every time I tried and failed. To my husband and children who live with a distracted, grumpy writer but still dance around the kitchen with me when I succeed. Never forget, I will be there for you too.

Prologue

He prowled restlessly. Anxious. Agitated. Back and forth. End to end. Over and over. Endlessly repeated after a thousand years of rest.

The flames danced around him. Taunting, biting, stroking. The heat at once pleasant and painful. A kiss and a slap. A caress and a jab.

The bars were weakening. The time was coming. His time was almost here.

Again.

His long, coarse hairs brushed against the icy metal. His scaled, spiked tail slammed against the black bars of entrapment, the whine of the failing metal music to his ears.

Soon.

The humans were finally succumbing to the dark. To the anger. To the charms of the Oppressor.

But there was still one who could guarantee his victory. Or hinder it. One who owned the key to all that would come.

Fire roared from his mouth. The flames soared between the thin spaces of the bars—the only part of him permitted to escape. For now.

Soon. His day was almost here.

The Year of the Dragon had arrived. This time, he would be freed.

Chapter One

Amber Morningstar flinched, an automatic reflex at the sudden pop of yet another firecracker as it echoed through the night. She released her breath and forced her muscles to relax. Not an easy task given the mob of people that clogged the street and sidewalks.

Pushing back the niggling apprehension, she scanned the people again, looking for a familiar face.
Anything
familiar would be nice at that moment. Instead, she saw nothing but the continuing sea of bodies that pushed and shoved at each other in the excitement of the Chinese New Year celebration.

A fresh blast of icy air whipped down the street, gusting harshly and taking biting nips from her exposed skin. Awnings and flags fought back against the might of the elements, flapping and snapping in resistance. Amber stifled the shiver that encased her and shoved her nose into the warmth of her coat collar.

Taking her first trip to New York City in January was not the most logical move. It had sounded exciting when her friend, Kayla, had suggested the trip. The desire to come, to experience something new and different, had outweighed all the practical arguments against it.

Her Aunt Beverly had even gone so far as to expressly forbid her from making the trip.

A twinge of guilt rippled through her at that thought. At twenty-three years old, Amber could walk away from her aunt, live her own life like most grown woman did. But obligation was not easily pushed aside. Aunt Bev was her only family, and she couldn’t abandon her.

So, for the sake of peace, she often found herself bowing to the desires of her aging, overprotective aunt. Desires that had limited Amber’s life experiences to the stifling perimeter of her aunt’s antique shop and the Wampanoag Indian Tribe of Gay Head. Any associations outside that closed circle were harshly discouraged. Growing up had been an exercise in isolation and detachment. She’d even forgone the college experience, taking online courses to earn a business degree.

But there was more to life, and she itched with the desire to experience it. The pull to come on the trip, the longing for an adventure, had been so strong she’d left a note on the counter back in Newport and came to New York City anyway.

Now she was alone, without her phone and with no way to find her friends.

The low chatter of multiple dialects and languages blended together forming an incoherent cadence of sound, making her feel even more isolated and alone. Needing out of the crowd, she let the bodies push her to the relative safety found between a fresh fish stand and a display of knock-off designer perfumes. The two scents clashed with each other in a combination that she registered as uniquely Chinatown.

“You try?” The sharp question was followed by a persistent shove of a bottle of perfume at Amber. The small Asian woman holding the offering looked at her with expectation, her smile full of hope for a sale.

Amber shook her head. “No, thank you.”

The woman turned away, her face immediately flaccid as she hunted up her next customer. Amber shoved her hands into her pockets and tucked her nose farther into her coat collar in an inadequate attempt to dilute the rank fish smell.

Once again, she scanned the people in hopes of finding her friends. Her eyes caught and held on the sharp profile of a man, his tall frame allowing his shoulders and head to tower over the crowd. She blinked, her breath hitched.

It couldn’t be him.

The ambient glow of the street lights and Chinese lanterns cast a valley of shadows over his face before he turned away, preventing her from verifying what she saw.

Pulled by an undefined force, she took a step to follow him before she jerked back and came to her senses. What was she doing? It couldn’t be him, she repeated to herself. She shook away the thought as delusional thinking on her part.

Her pulse returned to normal as she chided herself for her foolishness. Her secret infatuation was getting out of hand. Three years of admiring Damian Aeros from afar was now causing her to wish him up in unlikely places. A childish act on her part.

“Hey, Amber.” A deep voice cut through the dull clamor of the crowd. Amber jerked her head toward the sound and smiled in relief as she spotted a familiar face from their group.

“Nate,” she answered, stepping forward to meet him. “I’m so glad to see you.” Her anxiety eased, and she relaxed for the first time in over an hour. As mutual members of the Wampanoag Indian Tribe, she and Nate had known each other for years.

“What happened to you?” Nate inquired as he dropped his arm around her shoulders and propelled her down the street with the flow of the people. “Kayla’s frantic looking for you. She has us all out hunting you down.”

“I got distracted by a dragon dance.” She shot him an apologetic expression and hoped Kayla wasn’t too worried. “It was stupid of me to get so caught up in the performance.”

But the stunning colors, the macabre face of the dragon, the intoxicating lure of the drum beats had almost hypnotized her into forgetting everything but the dance. The dragon had been so intriguing, both beautiful and frightening. Each side had pulled at her until she’d felt lost in the complexity of emotions the mythical creature had stirred within her. Even now, the distant, rhythmic beat of drums pulled at her.

Called to her.

Another chill raked her, and Nate pulled her snug to his solid frame. “Are you okay?” His breath was warm and his voice vibrated against her ear, sending small tingles down her spine as he leaned in to be heard over the noise.

“Yes.” She ducked her head to hide the burning flush that raced over her cheeks. Having him this close was suddenly more disturbing than being alone in the crowd. Like most other things in her life, her experience with the opposite sex was embarrassingly limited.

She cleared her throat and tried to ease away from his side. “We should give Kayla a call. Do you have your phone? I left mine at the hotel.”

“Sure,” Nate agreed as he steered her to the side and ducked into a small alley. He backed her against the wall and briskly rubbed his hands over her arms. “There. It’s a little quieter and warmer here.”
 

Nate wedged his body close, forcing her to look up to see his face. A smile curved over his firm lips, but seemed to stop before it reached the cool depths of his brown eyes. The hard angles of his cheeks and square chin stood out under his dark skin, clearly identifying his Native American heritage.

“Better?”

She nodded, unable to answer over the lump of nerves forming in her throat. Nate brushed the errant strands of his black hair out of his eyes. He dropped his hand and rubbed the callused tips of his exposed fingers over her icy cheek. He continued the motion, pushing her hair back to tuck it behind her ear.

Amber inhaled, startled by the light touch and intimate gesture. Nate was attractive, but like most members of the tribe, he’d basically avoided her before this. She thrust her fists deeper into the pockets of her coat and tried to process his actions. What game was he playing?

She wet her dry lips and straightened her back. “So were you going to call Kayla?”

“I can take care of you. There’s nothing to be worried about,” Nate’s deep voice soothed as he slid to the side, blocking her view of the alley entrance.

The sound of Irish bagpipes started in the distance and seemed strangely out of place amidst the Chinese lanterns, paper dragons and lingering scent of raw fish. As out of place as Nate’s interest in her. Self-doubt riddled through her, encouraged by years of loneliness.

“Maybe we should just head to the hotel,” Amber said as she made an attempt to slide past the solid wall of Nate and into the relative safety of the crowd.

“Why? The night’s still young,” Nate insisted, blocking her way. “It’s the Year of the Dragon. Time to get wild and have some fun. Time to try something new.” His voice lowered in time with his subtle forward movements that once again brought her back against the bricks.

She swallowed thickly when he braced his hands on the wall and leaned toward her. Her muscles tensed in a mix of anticipation and trepidation. She had a sudden interest in the worn, cracked details of his leather jacket, her gaze darting everywhere but to his.

“Look at me, Amber.” His warm breath brushed across her cheek, his husky voice an accelerant to her racing heart.

Closing her eyes, Amber gathered her courage. Why did he make her so nervous?

“Do you know how beautiful you are?”

Nate’s words made her lips curl up in a sarcastic smile, the dreaded heat flushing her cheeks again. Beautiful was not a description usually applied to her. Shy. Quiet. Reserved. Those were the adjectives strangers placed with her name. Bastard, whore’s daughter, and slut’s reject were the ones she’d grown up with.

The slight pressure of his finger on the underside of her chin had her lifting her head to meet his gaze. His eyes were hooded, heated and should have seared the chill straight out of her bones.

“You have the most amazing eyes…pools of deep gold, like your name,” Nate murmured, scanning her face. “There’s a sense of innocence about you that clashes against the haunting pull of your heritage.” He moved his hand up to cup her cheek. “You remind me of a treasured Indian princess. One who holds herself aloof, but secretly longs to play.”

Her heart thumped wildly as his lips moved toward her own dry ones. Each vertebra was pressed to the hard bricks and her fists stretched the fabric of her pockets, her fingernails gouging into the tender flesh of her palms.

“Do you want to play, Amber?” The words were smooth as silk, yet husky. Not really a question at all. Her gut clenched in expectation edged with snippets of angst.

She watched his eyelids close right before the warm flesh of his lips met hers. She followed his lead and closed her eyes, making a cautious decision to let the moment happen. His touch was hard, almost demanding as his lips brushed hers. His tongue ran a line over her bottom lip before it thrust between her lips and into her mouth.

Startled, she flinched, gasped and he plunged his tongue in farther. His mouth was hot, his tongue everywhere, his lips hard and bruising. She pulled back in surprised resistance. His hand snaked behind her head to stop her retreat and slam her against his solid length. Off balance, she jerked her hands out of her pockets to push at the cold leather of his coat.