Phoenix Ashes (Maggie Henning & The Realm #4) by Lisa Morgan

Published: July 25th, 2013

Description:

Maggie Henning has fallen.

Sent to Ashe, stuck between life and death, Maggie is living in a dream; remembering nothing of the battle to save the world or of her love for Luc. There is only one way back- she must remember it all. But in leaving the perfection that is Ashe, she’ll lose her mother all over again.

Luc won’t let Maggie go without a fight. Even as he watches her body withering before his eyes, he refuses to give up on their love. Aided by trusted friends, Luc wages war to bring back the Phoenix he loves, even as a threat far bigger than Ossa lets his presence be known.

When you are left with only one chance to get it all back, do you seize it, or do you burn the world to the ground?

EXCERPT:

Maggie Henning, Stephanie was right…you are a lunatic…

Even as I told myself that chasing down the stranger was a bad idea, my feet kept moving forward. I left my eyes forward, following the dark hair and white shirt as he wound his way through the crowded sidewalk. With each step closer I seemed to get, the thicker the throngs of people grew. What were once a few folks with shopping bags, holding hands as they laughed and chatted, now became a packed house that made no sense. It was like the people just arrived from thin air. Like at the club, the people become more and more, their voices louder and their bodies making it more difficult for me to follow him.

I picked up my pace, a speed walk and twisted my body through the crowded sidewalk. He was getting more distance, and I quickened, eagerly pushing myself through the people, their complaints a dull roar in my ears as I hurried to catch up to him.

I thought about calling out to him, to ask him…no, beg him, to stop; to wait for me, but I bit back. What if I yelled out to him and he ran?

I was stopped short by a trio of carolers leaving the food pantry, their song echoing out loud over the other people rushing about. One of the singers smiled at me, his brown eyes appearing sinister in spite of the Merry Christmas wishes he was singing. Ice ran up my arm from where his hand touched me and instinctively, I pulled away from him.

He smiled wider and his voice grew louder, the chorus drowning out the busy shoppers complaints about needed me to move. I shuddered as the brown eyes followed my escape. The trio continued on across the street, still singing, as I watched, frozen by fear as his brown eyes glanced back at me.

I was breathing quicker, my heart racing with fear as those eyes watched me. I was going crazy. Stephanie was right. Maybe I’d hit my head and that’s where the headaches had come from, the nightmares shadowed my thoughts and I remembered the brown eyes looking at me from my mirror.

As the recollection hit, I saw him stop mid-street, turning his entire body toward me. My vision seemed to tunnel, to zoom in on him, and I heard his words in my thoughts.

“I’ve been right here, waiting for you to find your way back…”

I turned away and ran. Back through the crowded sidewalk, pushing people out of my way, singularly focused on only one thing—getting away from those brown eyes. I glanced over my shoulder, needing to make sure he wasn’t following, and my foot caught a crack in the sidewalk. I screeched, falling forward with my hands in front of me, I squeezed my eyes shut.

My feet left the pavement and I felt my body spin. For a moment, I was weightless, tethered to nothing but whatever gripped me around my waist. I felt my feet touch the ground again and I forced my eyes open, breathing heavy and positive that I’d find those dark brown eyes close to mine.

It wasn’t.

It was him, his white shirt fitted perfectly, with the cuffs molded to his arms. I followed his arms with my eyes; saw them tense with his hands holding my hips. I looked up to his face, his green eyes hardly seen under dark, thick lashes.

I was breathing hard and my heart threatened to rip free from my ribs as he tipped his head forward. His long bangs touched my cheek, the feeling so familiar, like the precious feather I refused to share with even my dearest friend.

His voice spoke softly, and it sounded almost like it held a hint of amusement, “Again, you need a hero. Surely this is getting old for you?”

I couldn’t speak as I stared at his face. He looked strong, fierce even. The back of his hand touched my cheek like I was something precious to him; I exhaled heavily even as I leaned into his touch.

“Are you okay?” he asked, bending a little to make us eye level.

I nodded my head, still unable to talk. He steals the very breath from my body…

“You aren’t afraid, are you?”

“Of you?” I finally managed as his hand trailed down to my shoulder. “No.” Never…

He stepped away from me and I could finally get my bearings. I was in an alleyway off of the main street. It was shady, but not unsafe feeling like the alleyway Stephanie and I had driven through that morning. Though in truth, I was almost positive that I felt safe merely because of the man who stood there with me.

“Who are you?” I asked him, stepping closer.

He lifted his hands, giving me pause. “I can’t stay here much longer, Maggie.”

“Why?” I begged, not even curious how he knew my name. I’d somehow expected him to know it.

“I just…can’t. If I could remain here, with you, I’d give anything.”

“Then stay,” I begged again. It made no sense, I knew. Why am I standing here, in an alley, pleading with a man I didn’t know not to leave me?

But that isn’t true, is it? I do know him…

“Who are you? In the club, you asked me to remember you, but I can’t. I feel like I know you, like I should know you—”

“I would have imagined by now,” he whispered as he moved, each step languid, circling me as if I was his prey, his words sliding over me like a cool blanket on a summer’s day as he came to a stop behind me.

“Imagined what?” I asked breathlessly, and his nearness was enough to steal the air from my lungs again. Maybe I should fear this handsome stranger the way I did the brown eyed man from my nightmare, but as I searched inside myself for that alarm, I

found only peace.

His hands touched my wrists softly. Velvety smooth, those knowing hands moved lazily up my arms, past my elbows. The left stayed to my collarbone while his right crept to my neck and his fingers splayed against me.

“Imagined that there is no escaping me,” his whispered declaration made my eyes close and chills run over my skin. Not out of fear, but out of want. “You are mine, Maggie Henning, forever and always. We are bound together by more than just emotion. Our very souls are connected, joined as one.”

He leaned over my shoulder as his hand crossed my chest and fell to my heart, his hair skirting my cheek until he turned his face close, letting his whispered words caress me. “Here…in your heart, as in mine. They share a rhythm. It matters not where you are or how far apart we might be, our hearts won’t free us. Even if we would fight it, we would lose.”

My heart raced under his touch. I watched the rising and falling of my chest from under eyelids that had grown heavy with his proximity. This stranger shouldn’t have such an effect on me, reason screamed, but even my soul realized how true his words were.

“How?” I managed, my words cracking and a sense of loss welling inside me. “You asked me to remember you, but how can I remember someone I’ve only just met?”

His pulled back just enough to let his lips dance over the nape of my neck for too brief a moment. “Does that feel like a stranger’s touch?” he asked. Still behind, he moved his hands and lightly urged me to turn and face him. Helpless against the spell he cast, I moved as he commanded. His green eyes were piercing as they looked into mine. With a hand holding my chin, his other freed my curls from the plastic clip I’d spun it in before I’d left home. His fingers a comb, he threaded through my locks while his eyes studied his moves before focusing back on mine. “And does that feel like a stranger’s touch?”

I couldn’t speak, the fast pace in my chest and the lack of oxygen in my lungs made me physically incapable of rendering coherent words. I could only shake my head and managed to mumble, “No.”

He smiled easily, his fingertip touching my chest again, the digit rising and falling with the increased tempo of the organ inside. “If I am not a stranger, then I am in there…somewhere. You have to find me, Maggie. Only after you find me can we be

together again.”

He began to step away from me, and with each reluctant step into the shadows he took, the more alone and empty I began to feel. Before he could get further, I reached out and grabbed his wrist.

“Please? I don’t want you to go. I feel safe when you’re near. I can’t explain it, and maybe I’m crazy, but I feel like—”

The man moved close again and asked in a whisper, “You feel like what?”

“I feel… I feel like half of me is… missing,” I admitted what I felt. It was a strange sort of honesty I shared with him. I should feel frightened, leery of this handsome stranger who touched me so tenderly, privately, but I didn’t. He wasn’t the stranger from my nightmares. This one, standing here, made me complete.

He held my face cradled in his hands and leaned closer. I closed my eyes, waiting to feel his kiss on my lips.

It didn’t come.

He pressed his lips to my forehead and held them there. Helpless to stop myself, I wrapped my arms around his waist and fought against a threat of tears.

“Half of me is missing, too. You must remember me soon,” he urged against my skin, then pulled from me in spite of what I felt we both wanted. When he spoke again, he almost begged.

“Please, Maggie, return to me.”

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About the author:

Lisa Morgan lives in rural Upstate NY with her husband Brian, three children, a degu and precocious Siberian Husky. A lover of books and words, it has always been her desire to tell stories that the people near her could listen read, escaping the world around them by way of the page. Always having a new story idea popping into her head, sometimes at the least appropriate times, Lisa can almost always be found with a notebook and writing utensil somewhere within reach, just as her 8th

grade teacher made her promise to do.

When she isn't writing or taxiing kids, Lisa enjoys reading, football, cooking, singing & dancing badly; tattoos, and spending time with family and friends.

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