Free Stone of Ascension by Lynda Aicher Page A

picked out the design and had the tattoo put on at a tattoo parlor. I’m not this Marked One.” Amber willed back the blush that would give her away.
    “No. I’m not wrong.” His gaze held hers. “You are the Marked One. The energy tells me so. It screams of power, of vitality, of ancient ways that will be called to use with your arrival.”
    So much for lying. Amber struggled for another answer. “Then there must be a mistake. Wrong place, wrong time, wrong girl. That kind of thing happens all the time.”
    He shook his head, denying her doubt. “We have waited thousands of years for your appearance. There is no mistake. No accident. No wrong girl. You, Amber, you are the one.”
    Before she could fire off another denial, the door to the house swung open, eerily silent. Absent was the squeaky hinges or click of the door latch that usually accompanied the action.
    Damian stepped between her and the man who had appeared in the doorway. Damian’s entire body became a mass of tightly held muscle. His hands were out of his pockets and clenched at his sides. He pulled his shoulders back, straightening his spine until every last inch of his imposing height was displayed.
    He was primed and ready for something.
    She snuck a quick peek from behind Damian to look at the new arrival. He was slightly taller than Damian, dressed entirely in black that matched the midnight black hair that brushed his cheekbones and the onyx depths of his eyes. The bulk of his finely toned muscles was clearly outlined under the thin cotton of the short sleeve shirt and impressed upon Amber that he could kick some serious ass.
    Like Damian, the man exuded authority as if he was born with it. He owned it. Demanded it. And currently challenged Damian with it. Thankfully, Damian didn’t appear to be intimidated by him or the look he was giving them.
    “Damian.” The man’s deep voice rumbled across the short distance between them. His face remained impassive. The man might be considered handsome if his chiseled features didn’t look like they were cut out of stone.
    “Xander.” Damian’s voice held zero emotion.
    The man crossed his arms over his broad chest. “What do you want?”
    Damian’s back straightened even more, if that was possible. For some unexplainable reason, Amber reached out and rested her hand on his back. The heat, the vitality that sailed up her arm made her breath hitch. His muscles contracted at her touch.
    Did he feel it too? That odd power that sizzled between them whenever they touched?
    The stone burned against her chest, sending its own waves of energy spiraling through her. A strange sense of urgency had her reaching under the coat with her free hand to slip the stone under her shirt.
    No one else needed to see it. Needed to know she had it.
    The overwhelming claim to ownership came barreling back to her. Damian had proven himself a non-threat to the stone, so her defenses had gone down. But this new guy, he screamed threat.
    “I’ve brought the Marked One.” Damian’s voice matched the elements, icy and cold. His words sounded hollow. But there was no doubt he fully intended to turn her over to this man. Still, she couldn’t muster the desire to pull her hand away from his back.
    Like the stone, he belonged to her.
    Hissing as if she’d been burned, Amber jerked her hand at the strange thought. She quickly stepped away, retreating from him. Her movements brought her into full view of the imposing man in the door. He assessed her with expressionless eyes before turning his attention back to Damian.
    “I need proof.”
    “You’ll get it when I see the council.”
    “This is all a big mistake,” Amber jumped in, unwilling to go along with whatever plans they were making. “If I could use a phone, I can make a call and be on my way.” As impressed as she was with her ability to keep her voice normal, her small speck of self-importance was smacked back down when both men looked at her, then dismissed