Tristan's Escape by Dianna Love

Author:Dianna Love
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: witches, alphas, atlanta, gargoyles, warriors, magic, shifters, beladors, novella, paranormal romance
Publisher: Silver Hawk Press LLC
Published: 2015-12-14T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 7

Mac had never suffered vertigo, but the world was spinning in a kaleidoscope of colors. She clutched Tristan and he groaned. Had she hurt him?

The spinning stopped and she took several breaths. “I was dizzy, but I’m good to go. You ready?” She lifted her head.

He looked down at her. “We’re here.”

“Where here?”

“A place I stay when I come to town.”

She looked around at a room that reminded her of elegance from another era. The sleek furniture would now be called retro, with clean lines and linen upholstery. Lights glowed in the night outside, filtering through the sheers. She gawked at the room that she should not be standing in at this moment.

A bar stocked with fine liquor. Blonde hardwood floors ran across the space. She turned the other way. A six-foot-wide, flat-screen television sat in one corner.

“Mac?”

She pulled out of Tristan’s embrace and walked to the window, pushing aside the sheer. The lights shining outside were from the Fox Theater marquee. Everything along the street had been decorated for the holidays. “Where are we?”

“Georgian Hotel in downtown Atlanta.”

That’s what she’d guessed, but hadn’t wanted to believe. She turned back to Tristan. “How did we get here?”

“Teleported.”

“Your eyes glow. You throw invisible power around and you teleport.”

He nodded and crossed his arms. Waiting.

Did he expect her to keep calling him a lunatic? Of course he did, because earlier she’d thought if she kept saying it, she might make it true.

“What are you, Tristan?”

She grimaced at how she’d spoken to him. He hadn’t flinched, but her question had sounded disdainful to her own ears. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that to sound–”

“As if I’m some monster?” he finished. “I am. So is Sethos. So are a lot of people in this world you aren’t supposed to know about.”

She waited now, rather than say anything else insulting. Yesterday she would have backpedaled like crazy from this whole conversation, but she’d just traveled a great distance in a matter of seconds. And she’d watched Seth ... no, Sethos ... throw fireballs and Tristan shove kinetic energy around.

What would scientists who had studied kinetic energy for years give to have seen all that?

If Mac had learned one thing from facing difficult facts while growing up as a Mackenzie, it was that, ready or not, if truth stepped in front of you and stood there, you looked it in the eye and took it for what—or who—it was. Then you found a way to deal with it. You didn’t try to make it go away, pretty it up, or dumb it down.

That had gotten her through accepting the truth when she’d learned about sharing DNA with the senator.

Tristan said, “I’m what’s called an Alterant. There are ancient warriors who live among humans and protect them from people like Sethos. The majority of those warriors are called Beladors. You might say I’m ... associated with them.”

“And what is Sethos?”

“He’s a sorcerer.”

“Seriously? Did you, I don’t know, grab that from my thoughts?” A sorcerer. Her brain was going into overload.

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