But that’s what Rafe smells like nonetheless.
He stares at me for a moment, his eyebrows drawn together, and then he shakes his head, dismissing some thought, and says, “The sources I’ve been contacting aren’t exactly guild approved.”
I blink at him, trying to remember what we’re talking about. Oh, right. He’s trying to find someone who will know how to track Trent.
Thankfully, Jonathan and Eric are in the kitchen, arguing over soda geysers—more specifically, if regular soda would create the same effect as diet. Jonathan says yes. Eric says no. I have a bad feeling we’re going to find out before the day is over. Hopefully, they’re smart enough to conduct their science experiment outside.
I eye the pair, shaking off my strange wayward thoughts about Rafe, and then whisper to him, “Please tell me your contacts aren’t part of the Entitled.”
“My contacts aren’t part of the Entitled,” Rafe lies smoothly, raising his brows.
“You’re just saying that because I told you to.”
A smirk ghosts across his handsome face. It takes me by surprise, as does his mood. It’s much less somber than it was earlier. Maybe he was as nervous about the Royal Guild’s questioning as I was.
“Listen, Lexie,” he says, “I’m going away for a few days.”
“You’re doing…what now?”
Rafe doesn’t leave. He smothers—it’s his thing. Like a hobby but less amusing.
“I have a lead I want to follow, but I can’t take you with me. I don’t want you associating with the people I need to meet.”
“If they’re that bad, maybe I don’t want you around them.” I tease him, but I’m wondering what kind of trouble he’s thinking of diving into. Another part of me questions if he’s distancing himself because of the link—because he doesn’t think it’s safe to stay too close to me.
Rafe doesn’t trust himself with access to my magic, and for a good reason. Historically, it doesn’t end well when an Obsidian Queen links to her knight. They get a little power hungry.
“I’ll be fine,” he says, looking at his phone instead of me. “Stop worrying.”
This link is…inconvenient. It’s almost as bad as Jonathan’s mind-reading. The only upside is that Rafe can’t tell exactly what I’m thinking.
“Who said I was worried?” I argue, just to be stubborn. Then I try to work up the feeling of detached boredom, just to see if it will work.
Rafe pulls his eyes from his phone to meet mine. They’re amused, sort of. “While I’m gone, I want you to work on your magic. You must always be in control, and right now, you’re a terrifyingly powerful novice. Practice with Gray if you get a chance.”
“Why Gray?” I ask, letting him get away with changing the subject.
“Because he’s nearly immune to your persuasion and charisma.” He glances at Jonathan and Eric, who are still arguing about soda and candy of all things. “Those two aren’t.”
“You’re immune to me. Why can’t I practice with you when you return?”
“I’m not immune.”
And that makes me pause. “What do you mean? Of course you are—you’re a Fox. You’re an Obsidian Fox.”
“We’re linked now. I believe your will would press into mine. I’d be helpless to resist, just because you’re…” He shrugs and then, as if lacking for anything better, finishes, “Mine.”
The word hangs between us.
There’s a reason Aparians who allow their magic to link are usually married. It’s an intimate bond—one I didn’t fully understand before I jumped in, head first. Not that I had a choice or time to think it through.
“And what if you were to use your magic on me?” I demand.
He swallows and then drops the subject altogether. “I might be gone for a while. Promise me you’ll stay with a member of the team at all times?”
That’s enough of this—we can’t have this conversation here. I tug the knight up and pull him toward the door. “We’ll be back,” I holler to Jonathan and Eric, slapping my new phone on the counter as I go.
“It’s something in the artificial sweetener,” Eric argues, all but ignoring us.
Rafe lets me tug him out the door, not even bothering to fight.
“What do you mean you’re going to be gone for ‘a while?’ How long is that?” I demand once we’re in the hall, setting my hands on my hips. “You’re running away, aren’t you?”
He steps forward, his eyes darkening as he forces me back. Once I’m trapped, he leans in, resting one arm on the wall by my head. “You don’t understand. I can’t stay—not now that we’re linked and not when you have feelings for Jonathan. Do you have any idea how difficult this is for me? I’d rather punch him than look at him, and he’s my friend.” The knight takes a calming breath, though he doesn’t step back. His eyes search mine, almost pleading with me. “And I know where I’m needed—to protect you, I must dispose of Trent once and for all.”
Dropping my voice even though no one is near, I say, “I like Jonathan—I do. But you know more than anyone that I’m not good for him. He and I can’t be together. He’s a Griffon.” Lowering my voice even more, I add, “He might as well be human when it comes to defending himself against the shadow creatures. It’s bad enough he’s on the team. But if we were together, I’d put him in an incredible amount of danger.”
Rafe almost smiles. “Do you have any idea what a blow he’d take to the ego if he had heard that lovely spiel? He’s a grown man, Lexie—a graduate of the Knights’ Academy. I promise you he’s not as helpless as you believe.”
I shake my head, my mind already made up. I was scarred the night Jonathan was bitten by the poisonous imp and almost died; the fear ingrained itself in my very being. I won’t put him at risk again.
“Please stay,” I beg. “I’ll tamp my feelings down, snuff them out. I’ve already told Jonathan the link severed any emotional attachment he and I had.”
“I need to take care of this.” Rafe says the words calmly—almost as if going off on an assassin’s mission is nothing more than a quick trip to the grocery store.
“And I need you here,” I whisper.
He can’t leave, not now. He understands all of this, and I understand nothing. And what if the shadow creatures disregard my command? What if they return? I need his magic to control them.
Sensing my panic, Rafe’s face softens. “You’ll be safe with the team. The creatures are in hiding, and the guild has decided to move on—everything is all right, at least for the moment.”
I begin to shake my head but freeze when he shifts his weight, moving closer to brush his knuckles against my cheek. “Lexie.”
It’s a chastisement, but a soft one. His eyes tell me that I need to trust him, and I do. But that doesn’t mean I’m ready for him to go.
I press my lips together, focusing on the feel of his hand. We stay like this for several moments, and I hold my breath, waiting for him to step back or…something.
Frowning, he trails a thumb across my cheek.
A few days ago, I couldn’t stand this close to him without feeling as if I were going to self-combust. The magic taunted us, begging us to link, creating feelings I couldn’t trust.
That’s gone now. There’s no magnetic pull, no maddening drug-like attraction. It’s comfortable with my knight, and our magic is content. I can feel it moving through the link, mingling like twining ribbons. Right now, this close, I can’t tell where mine ends and his begins.
And without the magic blanketing my emotions, for the first time, I can think. It’s like silence after a deafening buzz.
With that silence, that blissful peace, comes the realization that I’m still exhausted. Without thinking, I step forward, pressing myself into him, and loop my arms around his waist. “Promise me.”
He hesitates for several moments before his arms slowly move around me. His clasped hands settle at the small of my back. “Promise you what?” he asks, his voice a little off.
“That
you’ll be careful.” I tilt my head back to look at him and then offer him a small smile. “And that you’ll keep your phone on.”
Slowly, he raises an eyebrow. “Do you plan on texting me?”
“I’m going to send you cat GIFs until you come back.”
“Do I look like Eric?” He adjusts his hold, shifting me closer but in the chastest way. “Do you think I’d enjoy that sort of thing?”
“On the contrary, I think you’d detest it. Just an incentive for you to return.”
His expression changes, and something in the way he looks at me makes my breath catch again. “I’ve never needed an incentive to stay close to you, Madeline.”
Madeline.
Then, without warning, he nudges my hair behind my shoulder and leans close to my ear. “Stay out of trouble while I’m gone,” he whispers, his words tickling my skin.
I blink, startled by the contact…and slightly disconcerted that I don’t dislike it now that it’s just us.
And apparently, that’s a goodbye. He pushes away from the wall, turning on his heel. Before he can escape, I grasp his wrist. “Rafe…”
He pauses and turns back, his eyes locking on mine. My mouth works as I desperately search for words, but I shake my head, helpless to come up with anything. I can feel his jumbled thoughts, and they match mine. Confusion and denial laces with something we each refuse to acknowledge.
And we stand like this for several heartbeats—my hand on his wrist, his body half turned from me, both of us silent. Finally, the knight gently tugs out of my grasp. Disappointment I don’t quite understand settles in my stomach like a rock.
From the way Rafe’s eyes darken, I know he feels it—and I don’t know what to do about that.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, hating that I must explain myself and am clueless how to begin. “I don’t know.”
“You’re feeding off of me,” he growls. “And that’s why I have to go.”
This time, he does leave. I stand in the hall until he’s out of sight. Slowly, the strange heartache lets up and then subsides.
He’s right. I was feeling what he was feeling. I clutch my chest, aching again. I am chaos—complete disaster. It seems that no matter what I do, I cause turmoil.
The door opens, and Jonathan pokes his head out, looking concerned. I’ve been out here for a long time. He eyes me and frowns, more than a little perplexed to find me alone. “Where’s Rafe?”
“He went pixie hunting.”
The Griffon studies me for several moments, his chocolate eyes scrunched with concern. “Are you…all right?”
“I can feel his emotions through our link,” I say, resting my head against the wall and closing my eyes. “It sucks.”
“Tell me about it,” he deadpans.
I peek one eye open, giving him a grim smile. “If I remember right, you have to touch someone to get in their head, but I’ll humor you. What am I thinking now?”
Softly, Jonathan closes the door behind him and leans against it, crossing his arms, the picture of ease. “You’re feeling guilty because Rafe has developed a standard case of falling in love with his charge, but since you’re desperately besotted with a certain dashingly handsome knight on your team, you don’t return his feelings.”
And there it is, sunshine in the dark. It’s the reason my heart longs for Jonathan when it’s not being manipulated by the Obsidian magic.
“I don’t recall saying Eric is dashing or handsome, but now that you mention it…” I say, careful with my phrasing so he won’t catch me in a lie.
The Griffon pushes away from the wall and stalks forward, his chocolate eyes crinkling with amusement. My heart gives a leap, and then I panic. I told him this was over. He can’t look at me like that—I only have so much willpower.
“I was talking about myself. And you didn’t have to say it.” He stops in front of me. “You’ve thought it.”
My mouth goes dry because, dang it, I’m trying to be noble here. I’m trying to keep him safe. And the only way to do that is to stay neutral—keep a friendly distance.
“Jonathan,” I warn. “We talked about this.”
He nods slowly. “We did, yes.”
“Then what are you doing?”
He takes one more step forward, now far too close for my sanity or comfort, and a bright and very mischievous grin crosses his face. He reaches into his back pocket. “Giving you your phone. You got a text, and I thought you’d want to know.”
I’m careful not to touch him when I snatch the cell from his hand. I flash him a dry look and check the text. It’s from Rafe.
Tell Jonathan the truth. There’s no reason for both of us to be miserable.
Quickly, I put it back to sleep, relieved only when the screen goes black. Both of us? Does Rafe mean him and me? Or him and Jonathan?
“Anything important?” the Griffon asks.
“No.”
“Should we go then?”
I rack my brain, but I’ve got nothing. “Go where?”
Jonathan raises a teasing brow. “Dinner? Your house?”
“That’s not for another few hours.”
Setting his hand on the small of my back to lead me inside—nearly making me jump a foot in the air—he says, “Yes, but we have to stop at the store on the way.”
“Let me guess,” I say once I catch my breath. “You want to buy Mentos and Coke?”
“How did you know?”
I stop abruptly. “You’re joking right. You two aren’t actually that juvenile?”
Jonathan only laughs.
7
Fact: you can create a soda geyser with diet or regular Coke, though diet appears to work better. Needless to say, Jonathan is awfully smug.
At least it’s nice to know that even if shadow creatures are wreaking death and destruction, and Western Colorado is ablaze, my guys can still find joy by making things explode.
With my phone pressed to my ear from a safe distance away, I watch the guys shoot another stream of amber liquid into the air. Several women have gathered around to watch the science experiment. Women love science—it’s a fact.
I listen to the phone ring, expecting to get the voice mail again. All day, I’ve tried to call Misty, a woman I met in Redstone who left after her husband/boyfriend/whatever-he-was had a heart attack. Trent made a creepy promise to visit her, and I need to make sure she’s all right.
Just when the phone is about to go to voicemail again, a woman answers.
“Hello?” She sounds slightly irritated—maybe because I’ve called half a dozen times in the last hour.
“Hi, Misty,” I say quickly, startled to reach her. “This is Madeline Be…Kingman.”
I only stumble over Jonathan’s last name for a moment. “We met this past weekend in Redstone?”
“Oh my goodness,” she breathes into the phone. “I thought…they said everyone died.”
“I wasn’t in the mansion when it caught fire,” I explain. “Listen, I was just calling to make sure you were all right. The police have mentioned that there might have been some foul play involved.”
Lies. The police still have no idea what’s going on.
“Oh, I’m fine,” she says softly, probably because she’s thinking of Phillip.
“Just be cautious,” I urge. “Be careful who you talk to, just in case this whole thing was premeditated.”
“Sure.” She laughs softly, probably because this isn’t the most normal phone call. “It’s so good to hear from you, but how did you get my number?”
Gray looked it up at the guild.
“Oh,” I say, searching for an excuse. “You…gave it to me.”
“I did?”
“You did,” I say abruptly, pushing magic into the words, not even sure if they’ll carry.
“Right,” she says slowly. “I remember.”
Oh good, that makes my life easier.
“Just be careful, okay?”
“You too, Madeline. I’m glad you’re not dead.�
��
That makes two of us.
She ends up chattering for a while, and I listen, watching the guys set off their last geyser. The crowd finally disperses, and I say goodbye to Misty and make my way back to them.
“I hope you brought an extra change of clothes,” I say to Eric.
He pulls the sticky fabric away from his skin, grinning. Then without regard for little old ladies with heart problems who might be lingering nearby, he grasps the hem of his shirt and pulls it over his head. Which, of course, reveals a torso and chest that’s so perfect—so ridiculously sculpted—it causes a spandex-clad woman running with a stroller to steer into her friend.
The friend doesn’t even notice because she, too, is drooling over the shirtless Adonis who’s standing in the grass in the middle of the park. A man on rollerblades behind the women is forced to stop, and he glares at the guys and me.
“Eric, you’re causing a traffic jam,” I say, running my eyes over his chest because he’s on my team, and if anyone is allowed to look, it’s me. “Put your shirt back on.”
He flashes me a mock-sheepish grin. “It’s sticky.”
“Mine too,” Jonathan says, and when I glance over, it’s halfway over his head.
For the love of clothing.
“Would you two stop stripping?” I hiss, yanking Jonathan’s shirt back in place. “It’s bad enough you’ve already coated the grass in sugary soda. Must you draw more attention?”
Jonathan rolls his eyes, chuckling, but before he can answer, a female someone calls from the nearby parking lot, “Eric? Is that you?”
The woman is gorgeous. Her dark blond hair is up in a sleek ponytail. She’s slender and fit with curves that fill out her designer exercise-wear, and she has a smooth jog that would make a gazelle look like a hippo in comparison. And she’s headed our way.
I give Jonathan a knowing look and whisper, “Peacock. I’d bet your Corvette on it.”
Ignoring my wishes, he pulls off his shirt and shakes his head. “You could bet your own car.”
Knights of Obsidian Page 5