Gaia Awakened Read online

  Gaia Awakened

  Cassie Thorne

  Gaia Awakened

  by Cassie Thorne

  Copyright © 2019 Cassie Thorne

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is entirely coincidental.

  This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise, without prior written permission of the author.

  Contents

  Prologue: Gaia

  Chapter One: Paige

  Chapter Two: Aidan

  Chapter Three: Paige

  Chapter Four: Aidan

  Chapter Five: Paige

  Chapter Six: Aidan

  Chapter Seven: Paige

  Chapter Eight: Aidan

  Chapter Nine: Paige

  Chapter Ten: Aidan

  Chapter Eleven: Paige

  Chapter Twelve: Aidan

  Chapter Thirteen: Paige

  Chapter Fourteen: Aidan

  Chapter Fifteen: Paige

  Chapter Sixteen: Aidan

  Chapter Seventeen: Paige

  Chapter Eighteen: Aidan

  Chapter Nineteen: Paige

  Epilogue: Paige

  About the Author

  Prologue

  Gaia

  I wake to the heat of a raging fire in the middle of the night. I don’t know which night it is. I don’t know how long I’ve been asleep this time. Above me, Summer is wrestling with the glass casket that curves over my naked body, his green eyes narrowed in anger. He hates that he can’t move the lid even an inch. He hates that we’re separated like this.

  I press my fingers against the glass from inside.

  I hate it too.

  But this is what we agreed upon a long time ago. As much as it breaks our hearts, the glass casket is the only way to protect me from Winter. Even if his ice army shatters our defenses, no one can open it.

  No one can even touch me.

  That includes Summer, who’s still trying to fight the inevitable. He slams a fist into the glass casket as hard as he can, leaving not even a dent. The only crack is in the determination that lines every aspect of his face.

  But if he’s here, he still loves me with every fiber of his being.

  He hasn’t permanently become a dragon.

  Winter hasn’t won the war.

  Summer impatiently brushes a scorched leaf from his hair. I flatten my palm against the lid, drinking in the sight of him. The thick glass separating us might as well be an infinite expanse of burning stars.

  But if these are our last moments together, I want to see him clearly.

  I want to memorize his face.

  I want to memorize just how much he loves me.

  Summer says something to me, but I can’t hear him through the glass. He pauses and then lowers his head, pressing his lips directly above the center of my palm.

  I tremble with the memory of his kiss. As he intended.

  He pulls away, mouthing a spell to me.

  Portus fractum.

  The meaning of it tears a gasp from my own lips. Summer would only ask me to speak that spell if there was another way to protect me from Winter. But when his eyes meet mine, his expression is marred by sorrow.

  There is another way.

  He’s not happy about it.

  Summer moves behind me and flattens his palms against the lid of the casket, his face upside down from my perspective. I mirror his hands from inside, the glass the only separation between us.

  “Portus fractum,” I whisper.

  Water begins to flood into the casket, submerging my body part by part until it feels as if I’m about to drown. At the same time, Summer uses his lightstorm to create a protective barrier of electricity around the glass.

  He speaks a reincarnation spell.

  Memoria novare. Orbis amare.

  I gaze up at Summer through the lightstorm, instantly understanding the meaning of the spell. I’ll close my eyes and awaken in a world where no one remembers who I am. Not Winter, not Summer, not even myself.

  This is the only way I can be safe from Winter outside the glass casket. This is what I asked for millennia ago.

  But I’ll be dead to Summer.

  And he’ll be dead to me.

  Possibly forever.

  My heart aches at the impending loss of Summer, as if a vise is gradually tightening behind my breast. Our eyes are desperately locked onto each other. He’s crying too. His lips are twisted in distress, trying to tell me something I can’t hear.

  But the water has almost filled the glass casket. We have to remain strong not only for ourselves, but also for the sake of humankind. This is the only way to protect the Earth Realm. This is the only way to protect the realms of Summer, Spring, and Autumn.

  As the last of my air disappears, I speak my spell once more. “Portus fractum.”

  The glass casket shatters around me, exploding into an infinite array of glittering shards. Our hands touch through the barrier of lightstorm, and for a brief moment Summer’s fingers intertwine with mine. Warmth and light blossom in my core, urging me to kiss him before our world disappears.

  Both of us have sacrificed so much to keep the realms safe. Why can’t we be selfish for even a fraction of the millennia I’ve been in here?

  But that’s when the raging fire suddenly dies out, only to be replaced by a swirl of snow and a freezing gust of wind.

  No matter how much I want to lose myself in Summer, I can’t.

  Winter is here.

  I part my lips and gasp out the words one last time: “Portus fractum.”

  And then I close my eyes...

  Chapter One

  Paige

  “Paige?”

  I frown sleepily and bury my head underneath my pillow. If I pretend to be asleep, Willow might leave me alone. Her footsteps are pacing relentlessly in the hallway outside my bedroom, back and forth and back again, like predictable clockwork. My best friend never gives up on anything, but maybe this time will be different. This time, it’s the middle of June.

  She knows how much I hate summer.

  “Paige? Are you awake?” Willow knocks loudly on my door.

  I resist the urge to tell her to go away. If she was anyone else, I could pretend not to be home, but my best friend knows me way too well. It’s not like there’s anywhere else I might be sleeping. I haven’t gone on a date since Summer died, and I have no desire to be in a relationship ever again. It’s especially true at the height of summer, when the world feels empty and devoid of color.

  Everything reminds me of him.

  Why is Willow even here, anyway? She knows she’s only supposed to use her spare key for emergencies, like if something’s on fire or someone’s having a heart attack downstairs. My apartment sits above the Dragon’s Tale, the indie bookstore we opened a few years ago. Willow prefers to live downtown, where there’s more of a nightlife to distract her, but I’ve always felt safer surrounded by books.

  If she’s abusing her spare-key privileges like this, something might actually be wrong.

  I burrow deeper into my bed.

  “Paige!”

  Willow turns the knob and opens the door, but she’s too polite to barge into my bedroom. It sounds like she’s out of breath, which means she just ran all the way upstairs. So it’s a matter of life or death, then.

  I keep my eyes closed and my own breathing even, as if I’m practically comatose.

  Let me rest in peace.

  Just
this once, Willow.

  “Paige?” Her voice is filled with excitement. “I’m sorry for waking you, but I swear this is relevant to your interests. A man came in looking for a rare book a few minutes ago. He was extremely insistent about not wanting my help.” She pauses meaningfully. “In fact, he asked for you by name.”

  I sit up instantly, almost knocking a stack of hardcover books off the edge of my bed. A Game of Thrones. The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. Pride and Prejudice. D’Aulaires’ Book of Greek Myths. All birthday gifts from Summer, one for each year we were together.

  I misted the pages with his cologne after the funeral.

  They still smell like him.

  At least Willow isn’t offended that I’ve been ignoring her. She’s been completely there for me ever since Summer’s death, even when I’ve been less than nice to her, even when the night has felt darker than it’s ever been.

  I would have killed myself without her. Literally.

  “What does he look like?” I ask, trying not to sound too interested.

  “Hot but sort of intense,” Willow answers immediately. “Blond hair and green eyes, muscles everywhere, insanely tall. He said his name is Aidan. Did you start dating someone and forget to tell me? If so, I completely approve and insist that you tell me everything—”

  “I’ve never even met him!” But my heart is racing inside my chest, because I recognize her description and hot might be understating it.

  The man who’s apparently named Aidan has been loitering outside the bookstore for the past week, glancing into the storefront window every once in a while. Sometimes he walks across the street to the coffee shop and returns with a cup and a flaky chocolate croissant. Other times he just stares up into the sky, as if waiting for it to rain.

  A few days ago we made eye contact for the first time. But he turned away almost immediately, as if it was only an accident. I didn’t have time to see what color his eyes were, and I hated myself for even wondering.

  But something about him sparks this curiosity inside me, like I’m hearing the faint sound of voices filled with more joy than I could ever imagine.

  I want to know what he’s thinking.

  I want to know what’s in that coffee cup.

  I want to know what he’s looking for way up in the sky.

  For the past few days, I’ve been going back and forth with myself, trying to decide whether to go outside and ask him if he needs any help.

  But now he’s actually in my bookstore?

  And he’s asking for me by name?

  Maybe our eye contact wasn’t an accident after all.

  “Oh,” says Willow, sounding disappointed. “Well, unless you’re going to stay in bed all day, can you please go take care of the guy? He looked like he was about to raise hell when I said I didn’t know if you’d be coming in today.”

  “Sure,” I say nonchalantly. “I’ll be right down.”

  Trying not to seem too excited, I push Summer’s books aside and climb out of bed. A twinge of guilt flashes through me as I inhale a trace of his familiar cologne, but I ignore it. All I’m doing is meeting some guy about a rare book. Aidan probably only asked for me because someone told him it’s my specialty. I doubt he’s interested in me for any other reason.

  I’m certainly not interested in him. Just achingly curious.

  That’s all.

  I pull on a blouse and skirt and run a brush through my long hair. I’m not sure what to expect from the man waiting downstairs. Strangers usually only show interest in me after seeing the color of my eyes. The right one is forest green, but the left one is ocean blue. They’re different colors because of a genetic mutation, but I just say I’m wearing colored contact lenses unless I trust the person asking.

  I don’t know what I’ll say when Aidan asks me.

  I lace up my boots and make my way downstairs to the Dragon’s Tale, which is a small but cozy bookstore. I spent months setting it up after Summer died, pouring my heart and soul into the one thing that still gave me any comfort.

  When I step over the threshold now, it feels like I’m entering another world. Green vines of artificial ivy curl around high ceiling slats and cling to textured walls. Fairy lights strung in between indoor balconies provide dreamy lighting. The aisles are filled with the most amazing books: old and new, thick and thin, hard and soft. Each bookshelf resembles a castle wall and nestles in between vintage rugs and plush armchairs. Cushioned reading nooks are tucked here and there, providing sitting areas for customers to sink into books.

  It’s my favorite place of all time.

  Behind the register at the back of the bookstore, Willow is covertly watching someone in one of the aisles. When I wave at her, she nods at the Fantasy section, indicating where Aidan is waiting for me.

  I walk over and peer into the aisle, barely daring to breathe.

  It’s him.

  The man I’ve been watching for the past week is standing inside my bookstore, thumbing through a hardcover book. Somehow he’s even more attractive than when I saw him through the window. He’s wearing a leather jacket over a fitted T-shirt that shows the outline of his abs, and his hair isn’t exactly blond but slightly darker, a color that reminds me of pure gold.

  I start to smile when I realize the hardcover book is A Game of Thrones. But there’s a deep frown on his face, as if the subject matter is offensive to him.

  My eyes widen as he reaches a particularly bad page and grips a corner between his thumb and index finger.

  Surely he’s not…

  With a harsh ripping sound, he tears the page straight out of the book.

  I can’t help myself. I gasp.

  He glances up, his eyes snapping to my face.

  I hastily duck out of sight, my cheeks burning with fire. What am I doing? This is my bookstore, the one I opened with Willow after Summer died. I shouldn’t be spying on a customer, no matter how hot he is. And I definitely shouldn’t be hiding from him.

  No one messes with my books.

  I square my shoulders and enter the Fantasy section, preparing to confront Aidan. But if hot was an understatement, sort of intense was a flat-out lie. The entire time I’m moving toward him, I’m trying not to notice how penetratingly he’s watching me. His eyes are emerald green and practically glowing. Something about the way he’s standing, his muscles shifting without moving, makes me instinctively think he’s dangerous.

  A strand of golden hair has fallen over his forehead.

  He impatiently pushes it aside.

  “Who are you?” Aidan asks me. His voice is warm but has a sharp edge to it, as if he could cut my flesh to the bone using only his words.

  “I’m Paige,” I say. “Did you seriously just tear out a page from that book?”

  He glances at the paper in his hand. “Apparently.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “It’s inaccurate,” he says, shrugging. “I don’t like it. These animals are clearly snow wolves, not dire wolves, and the characters keep talking about how dragons breathe fire. Everyone knows dragons can’t do that. Who wrote this, a small child?”

  “What?” I can’t believe the nerve of this guy. “It’s a fantasy novel with fictional creatures, not a textbook. Either way, you’re not supposed to remove a page just because you don’t like it. And dragons do breathe fire.”

  “Do they?” Aidan asks, his green eyes suddenly piercing me to the core.

  I make a flustered grab for the torn page, but he yanks it out of my reach and holds it up high in the air, as if we’re playing a game.

  Instead of touching paper, my fingertips accidentally graze the side of his face.

  The instant his skin touches mine, it’s like a bolt of lightning streaks through my veins.

  A memory flashes into my mind: Aidan cradling my bare hips on a mattress overgrown with moss, his warm mouth pressed to the curve of my aching throat. My parted lips gasping in pleasure as he eases into me with familiarity, our bodies fitting togeth
er so perfectly it makes me want to cry out in relief.

  But that never happened.

  How can I remember something that never happened?

  I flush deeply, acutely aware of how close I’ve put myself to Aidan. What the hell was I thinking? His musk reminds me of a summer campfire and freshly mown grass. His warmth makes me want to cling to him and never let go.

  He still hasn’t moved from where he’s towering over me, but his eyes are gazing down at me in confusion.

  Did he just have the same surreal flash of memory I did?

  Oh God.

  Aidan clears his throat and then glances at each of my eyes, noting the different colors. I’m suddenly worried he’s going to comment on them, but instead he looks down and folds the torn page into some kind of shape.

  After a few seconds, his fingers lift my wrist into the air between us.

  He rests something on my palm.

  A paper rose.

  I stare down at it, trying not to show the effect that being this close to him is having on me. Even just the feeling of his thumb on my skin is making me want more. Part of me feels like I’m betraying Summer by not pulling away, but I think I’ve forgotten how to move.

  Neither of us speaks for a few seconds.

  “I’m sorry,” Aidan says finally, releasing my wrist. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “What?” For a second I think he’s talking about touching me.

  “The page. I shouldn’t have ripped it out.”

  “Oh.” My hand closes around the paper rose. “I think I’d rather have you apologize by paying for the book you just ruined.”

  “Really?” His eyebrow quirks in an amused look. “Removing just one page ruined the entire book? I would’ve thought the story was better than that. Seems more like a minor setback than an act of total destruction.”

  “Tell that to my customers,” I say flatly. “I don’t think they’ll want to buy damaged merchandise.”

  Aidan sighs. “Fine. What do you want for it? A bag of gold? A diamond necklace? A goblet studded with jewels?”

  I can’t tell if he’s serious or mocking me. “Whatever it says on the back cover.”