Her Defenders: A Rejected Mates Romance (Fall Mountain Shifters Book 2) by G. Bailey

Author:G. Bailey [Bailey, G.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Midnight Publishing Limited
Published: 2021-05-29T16:00:00+00:00

My stomach is turning as the angels finally set us down, judging by the feel of the seating hitting the ground.

“You can open your eyes now,” Valentine softly whispers to me. “You look a little green.”

“I feel it,” I mutter, opening my eyes like he commanded even when I’m terrified. The wind blows locks of my hair in front of my eyes, and I tuck them back, breathing in the scents of the city and the distant sea salt in the air. I’m met with Deimos’s stare when I look forward, from across the seating area, and I give him a tense smile. He is comfy in his seat, his large legs outstretched, his mate’s hand on his knee.

“Flying is not for you, then, no?” he questions. There is no judgment in his words, just pure curiosity. His accent is something I need to get used to, it’s thicker than my accent or the alphas’.

“I’ve never much liked heights,” I explain as the alphas stand at my side, and I take Valentine’s offered hand, standing on my wobbly legs. Deimos offers his consort his hand, and she takes it as she stands with him, and they both walk off the seating onto the balcony. The balcony has white tiles, glass borders, and it is filled with pots of green, vibrant plants. Some of the plants have red and pink flowers growing on them, and their sweet scent fills the air. The angels themselves all have an underlying scent of something bitterly sweet, reminding me of lemons. We pass through white stone archways with white, sheer fabric that blows in the breeze, brushing against my arms. The room is one massive open space, a mosaic floor of tiles in several circular shapes, and dotted around are beautiful handcrafted white statues.

“Welcome to my home, dear friends,” Deimos claims, pausing by the statue of a woman in a cloak, with a veil covering her face. The attention to detail on the statue is so perfect it almost looks real. Deimos places his hand on the statue’s shoulder. “Do you like this statue, Mairin?”

With Deimos, I feel every word, every action of mine is being heavily judged by him and every angel he has hidden in the shadows of this room. I can’t see them, but I know they are there. It’s hard to keep my racing heart under control, to not let my hands shake from nervousness. “Yes. Whoever made it has skills from the gods.”

“It is human made, and it was given the title of The Maidenhood. Don’t you think it is special?”

“They all are. Your collection is very interesting,” Ragnar says, humour lacing his words. “And you haven’t changed a bit. Still the bragging bastard that can’t hold his drink.”

Deimos playfully laughs, a gleam in his eye, the statue and me forgotten, as he walks to Ragnar and pats his shoulder. I want to thank Ragnar, but I know I can’t say anything out loud. “How about you and I have

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