Fated Salvation (The Sendaxa Chronicles #3)

Can Grace and Tristan finally defeat Luthor Cromwell? Find out in the thrilling conclusion!

Chapter 1
Over ten years before the events of Scorched Redemption…
Grace Albright never forgot the day she met Tristan Holder. Everything about that day—from the scent of the burning birthday candles to the sound of popping champagne corks—was embedded deep in her soul.
Her father had organized an elaborate twenty-fifth birthday party for her, and it was endearingly over-the-top, as were most things Robert Albright did for his daughter.
“What’s the point in being rich if we don’t spend it, dear?” her father would ask, love shining in his eyes as he patted Grace’s shoulder. “And Mom would want me to take care of you. She’d be thrilled that I make you smile.”
“You spoil me, Dad,” Grace said, her smile kind since she loved him more than anyone in the world. “Mom would probably say you’re making me soft.”
“Soft,” he said with a pfft. “Never. My daughter has balls of steel.”
“I don’t have balls at all, and don’t talk like that at the party tonight. Your rich friends might faint from shock.”
“Screw ’em.” Robert winked. “I say what I want, and I’ll spoil my daughter whenever I want. Lawrence will be here at seven, so make sure you’re ready,” he said, referencing their driver.
“Ten-four,” Grace responded with a salute.
As she dressed for the party, Grace took a moment to reflect on turning a year older. Sometimes, she felt old. After all, most of her friends were already married to their country club husbands, and several had children.
Other times, she felt young, reminding herself she had her entire life ahead of her. Determined to seize the moment, she dressed in a gorgeous green gown that hugged her breasts and the curve of her hips like a glove. After applying a coat of makeup that accentuated her almond-shaped blue eyes, she regarded herself in the long mirror of the bedroom she still inhabited in her father’s Great Falls, Virginia, mansion.
“Not bad,” she murmured, running her palms over the satin of the dress. “You don’t look a day over twenty-four.” Snickering at the sentiment, she grabbed her clutch and headed downstairs to meet the driver.
She made uneventful small talk with her father in the limo and felt her pulse quicken as they approached the restaurant.
“Dad! The parking lot is full. How many people did you invite?”
“All your friends, and all of mine. Why waste a perfectly good party?”
“Is Luthor coming?”
“Of course,” Robert said with a nod. “He’s my most important client and thinks of you as a daughter, Grace.”
Grace pursed her lips, biting her retort so she didn’t upset him. In truth, she found Luthor to be skeevy and disingenuous, and something about him always made her feel uneasy. But his business relationship with her father was responsible for their lavish lifestyle, so she remained silent as they pulled into the parking lot.
“I also hired extra security at Luthor’s request. He’s paranoid now that he’s the tenth richest man in the world, and thinks everyone is out to get him.” Robert arched a sardonic eyebrow. “So, if you see any men with guns holstered to their belts lurking in dark corners, that’s why.”
“I’ll try not to get shot,” Grace murmured drolly as she exited the limo.
Her father smiled as he walked to her side, offering his arm. “You look beautiful, dear. Your mother would be proud.”
“Thanks, Dad.” Grace lifted her chin in the regal way she’d been taught from countless hours of etiquette lessons. Her mom had insisted on them, reminding Grace that acceptance into the upper echelons of society was never guaranteed. One must act refined and proper to exist in their lavish world.
Grace always thought the lessons a bit ridiculous, but she also enjoyed the spoils of her father’s wealth, so she bit her tongue and did her duty. Her mother had passed away several years ago from a brain aneurism, leaving Grace as the matriarch of the family. While other women her age spent their nights dancing in dark, pulsing nightclubs, Grace spent most of her time accompanying her father to charity galas and fundraisers. Others might have found it boring, but Grace hadn’t yet found her purpose in life, and going to fancy parties was familiar, so she figured she’d continue the status quo until something in her life changed.
Little did she know, it would be that evening.
She entered the party on her father’s arm, noting the lavish decorations and balloons. Robert had tasked his assistant with hiring a decorator, and the room sparkled in her favorite colors—gold and green.
A band played in the far corner of the room, the music filling the room with a soft beat that was drowned out by the cheers at their entrance.
“Grace, you look stunning!” her friend Margaret said, rushing toward her and encircling her wrists. “You might just find a husband tonight.”
“I’m more concerned with finding the bar,” Grace replied, glancing toward the far wall. “Come on, let’s get some champagne.”
Margaret nodded and beckoned to her husband, Charles, who followed her like a puppy. Grace thought him incredibly boring—as were most men who ran in their circles—and she had no desire to tie herself to one of them any time soon.
After securing a glass of chilled champagne, Grace began her rounds. She understood her duty—smile, nod, and be cordial. Appearances were meaningful in her father’s world, and she aspired to please him. Although she didn’t necessarily crave his approval, she did crave his love. He was the only person she’d ever truly been close to, besides her dear mother, and she had an inherent desire to see him happy. Traveling in their societal circles brought him joy, so she’d continue to play her role.
Sure, it was lonely sometimes. Grace had no idea why she had trouble connecting with people. She considered herself smart and polite, and perfectly capable of interesting conversation. A casual observer would probably think she had several close friends.
But Grace was also aloof, sometimes feeling adrift in a world that seemed so big but somehow small at the same time. She often found herself wondering why people in her wealthy circles didn’t want more. Despite all the charity galas and fundraisers, most people she knew didn’t actually do anything else to change the world. Giving money was one thing, but action was another. Perhaps when she got a bit older, she could set the example by implementing positive change in the world.
For now, she pushed away the thoughts in order to mingle with the partygoers.
After two hours, Grace felt restless, yearning for a break from talking about yachts and trips to Greece. Craving fresh air, she ordered a refill on her champagne and slipped outside onto the restaurant’s second-floor terrace.
The stars twinkled above as she rested her forearms on the cool stone of the terrace wall. Sighing, she closed her eyes and listened to the faint humming that leaked from the restaurant’s main room. Something shuffled behind her and she whirled around, narrowing her eyes to scan the darkened corner behind her.
“Is someone there? I thought I was alone.”
A man stepped forward, hazel-green eyes flashing in the moonlight as he lifted his chin. His shoulders were broad and a black holster rested at his belt. He was dressed in a black suit, his hands crossed above his belt buckle as he regarded her.
“I’m one of the security personnel your father hired tonight,” he said, his deep voice possessing a gravel-laden tone that made her shiver. “I saw you slip outside and wanted to make sure you weren’t alone.”
Her eyes darted between his as her pulse pounded, although she wasn’t sure if it was from surprise or…something else. His gaze was piercing as he regarded her, and it made her slightly uncomfortable. Heat crept up her neck as she stared back, wondering if he would break first.
The stubborn bastard stood firm, drilling her with those limitless eyes, before he smirked.
“Well, this might be the most enthralling staring contest I’ve ever had,” he drawled, arching an eyebrow. The gesture made him appear incredibly sexy in the dim light, and Grace cleared her throat.
“It’s rude to stare,” she said, thrusting up her chin.
He just shrugged a dismissive shoulder.
“You can go inside,” she continued. “I assure you, I’m perfectly safe. This restaurant is one of the nicest in Virginia and the only threats to my life are the dreadfully boring conversations I’m forced to have with the area’s elite.”
His eyes widened with surprise. “Aren’t you one of the elites?”
“Yes.” Her lips fluttered as she expelled a slightly exasperated breath. “Maybe the worst kind of all. I’m an elite who thinks I’m still down to earth.”
A low chuckle left his throat, surrounding Grace in a blanket of warmth that caused bumps to rise along the sensitive skin of her nape. She slowly lifted her hand to rub the tiny pricks, aware that the mysterious man’s eyes traveled to where her fingers caressed her skin. A sizzling energy vibrated between them, his nostrils flaring as he observed her.
Something raw and animalistic curled in her belly, and she realized it was lust. For the first time in her quarter-century on Earth, Grace felt the unassuageable tug of pure, unchecked desire.
“I don’t think—”
“You’re not supposed to think on your birthday,” he interrupted, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Grace’s eyes roved over his tall frame, and she licked her suddenly parched lips.
“I don’t have the luxury of making impulsive decisions. I think about everything.”
He glanced over his shoulder to the main room where the Great Falls aristocrats laughed and mingled. Turning back, he tilted his head. “Seems to me like you have all the luxury in the world.”
“The prettiest illusions are always the easiest to believe,” she said, lowering her arm from her neck to wipe away the chill upon her forearm.
He took a step forward, causing Grace’s spine to straighten.
“Don’t bristle, little empress,” he said, assessing her. “I’m just taking another look at you. If you’re an illusion, I want the whole mirage.”
“Empress?” she scoffed, unable to control her smile.
“Well, aren’t you? All these people are here to celebrate you tonight.”
Grace bit her lip as she contemplated. “I think they’re all here to celebrate my father. My birthday is just the occasion.”
“And is there a ‘Mr. Empress?’” he asked, his tone filled with mirth and curiosity.
“No.”
His eyebrows lifted slightly. “No one with a fancy boat or a portfolio full of condos waiting in the wings.”
Grace’s lips thinned. “Most of the eligible men I meet are about as exciting as watching eggs boil.”
“Maybe you should slum with the rest of us sometimes. We’re not so bad.”
Breathing a laugh, she nodded. “Maybe I should.”
Her breath caught when he took another step closer, the warmth from his body tangible against hers as he gazed into her eyes. He was several inches taller, and Grace tilted her head, forcing herself to meet his gaze. In other situations, she might have backed down, but for some reason, she felt a need to respond to the slight challenge in his eyes as he loomed over her.
“Damn…” he whispered, placing the backs of his fingers against her jawline. Slowly, he traced the skin there, and Grace felt her knees buckle.
“You’re not what I expected, empress,” he said, the tender movements of his fingers against her jaw mesmerizing. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll head back inside before I show you how fun it can be to join the peasants.” Leaning closer, his breath washed over her cheeks. “Or maybe that’s what you secretly want.”
Grace couldn’t deny that she desperately wanted him to kiss her. Never had she felt the pull of consuming desire like this. Hell, she’d only had two boyfriends—one in high school and one in college—and both had been terrible in bed. She was sure neither one even knew a woman possessed the ability to orgasm.
But this man? Somehow, Grace knew that he would know exactly what to do with her trembling body. He would know how to find the sensitive little pearl that was now throbbing between her legs. His lips would understand how to travel over every inch of her body. And those long fingers… God, they would probably set her on fire.
“I see the dirty thoughts swirling in those pretty eyes, Grace,” he whispered, sliding his fingers under her chin. Tilting her head back, he brushed his lips over hers. The touch was feather-soft, but it elicited a lusty purr from deep in her throat.
“Tell me to stop,” he murmured.
Grace remained silent, her body thrumming as she contemplated whether to kiss him back or ask him to release her.
Resting his forehead against hers, he sighed. “I’m on duty, so I have to let you go.” His teeth gently nipped her lip before he drew back and released her.
Grace felt the loss of his warmth in every cell of her skin.
“As much as I want to kiss you, I need this job and can’t chance your dad finding us in a precarious position.”
“I’m an adult and can kiss a man without my father’s permission,” she said, her tone regal since she was slightly offended.
His slight smirk indicated he believed otherwise, and she straightened her shoulders, embarrassed at her reaction toward him. Aiming to dismiss him, she pivoted and headed back toward the terrace doors.
“It’s Tristan Holder,” he called, a knowing lilt in his voice as she halted and looked back over her shoulder. “For when you come looking for me—if you’re brave enough to leave Daddy’s mansion.”
Shooting him a glare, she planted a hand on her hip. “Screw you. I could have you fired.”
His resulting smile turned his face into something so sexy Grace could feel the heat intensify deep in her core.
“See you around, empress.”
Giving him her best look of disgust, she whirled around and reentered the party.
An hour later, Tristan Holder was still on her mind.
When she arrived home after midnight, he’d somehow overtaken every thought in her addled brain as she brushed her teeth and washed her face.
As the early morning light streamed through her bedroom window, Grace awoke, sweaty and groggy from a restless night full of dreams of her sexy, and undeniably rude, hazel-eyed stranger.
“Why were his lips so soft anyway?” she muttered, punching her pillow. “Guys aren’t supposed to have soft lips.”
But Tristan had. They were somehow soft and firm, and as the week wore on, she couldn’t stop thinking about having them on every inch of her body.