Page 63 of Awakened Ash and Alchemy

“You may ask for anything you require while you are under our protection.” Gellar’s eyes ran over her clothing, jeans and a shirt, with the smooth diplomacy of a man who had navigated worse. “We ask one thing of you, that you refrain from mentioning that you are from the mortal realm.”

Angela looked at Zarek.

He leaned in close to her. “The ancestors voted for an amendment in the Accords that allows you to be here.”

Her eyes narrowed at him. “So, not breaking the rules, but a sanctioned exception.”

The intelligence of this woman was stunning.

“We don’t share Sworn Exarch business with those outside.”

She held his gaze for one measured beat. “Understood.”

He didn’t want to look away, but he did, allowing his attention to drop to her belt. The leather was of good quality. Mortal-made, worn at the buckle, and marked near the center with the unmistakable impression of his own teeth.

He’d done that.

In her bed.

While her hands worked on his wounds. This mortal woman had saved him, stopped him dying in the alley where she’d kneeled beside him in the dark, and held him together without any hesitation.

Her mismatched eyes moved across the room with the calm assessment of a woman looking for exits. With her hair falling loosely over her shoulders, she was simply—unavoidably, inconveniently, devastatingly—herself.

And that was the problem. She had every male watching her.

The Claiming hit like a low and steady tide before he could brace against it. He wanted to growl at them to tell them to back off.

But she squeezed his hand while peering up at him, with an It’s okay.

She could feel him.

He’d heard people connected to each other in some way, but he’d never expected to connect like this.

“She’ll need different clothes,” Martar said.

“Clothes that don’t announce where she’s from the moment anyone looks at her,” Gellar agreed.

Angela rolled her shoulders. “You know, I’m standing right here.”

“We’re aware,” said Martar, and in better circumstances, he may have thrown in that smile the women loved.

“Tamarr,” Zarek called.

A younger woman stepped forward from the servants’ doorway, uncertainty flickered across her face.

“Take Miss Duboise to the housekeeper. Then open the adjoining chamber in my wing, and ensure it is prepared for Miss Duboise.”

“Tell the housekeeper that the remaining officers in the west corridor will need to be relocated,” Gellar ordered calmly. “For operational discretion.”

Zarek nodded. It wasn’t for him, but for the stupidity of this Claiming’s territorial streak, which curled low and unwelcome inside him.

He trusted his brothers. With his life. Sadly, his instinct was not governed by logic when it came to her. Giving Angela’s hand a squeeze, he said, “This is Tamarr. She will assist you with anything you require.”

“My lady,” Tamarr said, bowing.

“Oh, please don’t bow,” Angela blurted, clearly overwhelmed.

“It is our custom,” Tamarr replied, startled.