I reluctantly pull my eyes off the poor Bunny, who now has his head against the cushion. His eyes are clamped shut, and he’s far too big for the seat—to the point he resembles a bodybuilder in a kindergartener’s desk. Beads of sweat dot his brow, and he’s rather pale.
“I can’t,” I whisper to Jonathan, matching his quiet tone. “I promised Gray I wouldn’t use my magic on you guys.”
We hit a tiny patch of turbulence, which makes the plane shake for half a second. Eric yelps like a little girl, drawing the attention of all those around us.
“He’s going to have a heart attack,” Jonathan insists, opening a single eye to look at me.
“Fine, but I’m going to ask him first.” I turn back to Eric, wondering how I’m going to go about this. “I can help,” I say softly.
“Help what?” he bites out.
“With your anxiety. I can make you feel better.”
Opening his eyes, he tilts his head to face me. Feeding off him, Charles lets out another eerie, shrill yowl. It’s the kind of sound that’s more painful than nails on a chalkboard and ten times as unsettling.
“What anxiety?” Eric says, purposely widening his eyes as if he can’t figure out what I’m talking about. “I’m fine.”
“You’re scared of flying.”
“No.” He shakes his head too quickly. “I’m not.”
“For the love of—” the woman in front of us says, leaning forward as if she’s looking for something in her purse. She then turns in her seat once more, giving Eric a grim, forced smile—looking very much as if she wears the expression rarely—and then extends her hand toward him. “Here.”
“What is it?” I ask, staring at what appears to be a handheld game device. Except I haven’t ever seen one like that before. It’s small and black, with a screen so bright and a picture so realistic, I swear it appears as if you’re looking through a tiny portal into another world.
“It’s a game.” She waggles it at Eric. “Distract yourself.”
He visibly gulps, and though he doesn’t reach for the handheld console, he does look intrigued—heavens, I’m not a video game kind of girl, and even I’m intrigued.
She raises her brows, gracing him with the universal look for “get on with it” and gives the game another shake.
“Go on, Eric,” I say, reluctantly pushing magic into the words. “Relax. Have fun.”
Pure relief crosses his face, and his shoulders sag. Yep—Jonathan was right. I probably should have done that sooner.
Immediately after, Eric pets Charles, soothing him. The cat stretches his back before settling onto Eric’s lap. With a yawn, he blinks several times and goes to sleep.
The woman narrows her eyes, looking perplexed. Then, a little too astute for my liking, she slides her gaze to me and frowns. I force a pleasant smile and try not to fidget with the armrest.
“Thank you,” Eric says as he accepts the game, realizing what’s going on and taking the reins of the conversation. He studies the console, turning it over, perhaps looking for a logo. “I don’t recognize this.”
“It’s a prototype.” She bristles slightly and then turns in her seat once more. “Don’t break it.”
I lean close to Eric and murmur, “That was weird.”
He nods but is already sucked into the game.
The rest of the flight goes by quickly, and soon we’re dropping elevation, preparing to land. Jonathan stirs and clears his throat before prying his eyes open.
“Have a nice nap?” I ask, more than a little jealous.
I wish I could have slept. Last night was the worst I’ve had since Redstone, probably due to my anxiety over the meeting this morning. I tossed and turned, my mind mulling over my self-appointed task of sending the creatures back to Aparia. Every time I tried to close my eyes, I saw the humans I failed in Redstone.
The monsters listen to me; they heed my words. I should have felt them—I should have sensed what was coming. Instead, I was too consumed with Jonathan. I glance at him, a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.
I peer past Eric at the Vegas lights. After several circles, the plane touches the ground. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Eric so relieved.
Going from Mountain time to Pacific means we gained an hour, so it’s just now past eleven—still early by Vegas standards, but it might as well be the middle of the night for me.
We gather our things and stand, waiting to exit the plane. The woman in front of us turns to collect the game. To my surprise, I realize she’s a good six inches shorter than I am—five-one tops.
At the same time I notice how short she is, she notices how tall Eric is. Slowly, she looks up at the Bunny, her frown growing as she takes him in, almost as if she’s offended by the knight’s extreme hotness.
He flashes her an easy smile, the one that makes women everywhere fall at his feet like groupies, and hands her the sleek device. “That is one of the coolest things I’ve ever seen.”
“Thanks.” She takes it and tucks it into her bag, dismissing him.
Undaunted, Eric sticks his hand in front of her, preparing to introduce himself. “I’m Eric.”
Slowly, she turns, her eyes narrowing. For a moment, her gaze flicks to me and then back to the Bunny. “Eric what?”
His smirk turns into a full-on grin. “Let me take you to dinner, and I’ll tell you.”
She takes his hand, gives it a hard shake, and then steps into the aisle. “Not interested, thank you.”
Eric watches her, looking particularly dumbfounded. Jonathan, on the other hand, is trying so hard not to laugh, his shoulders shake. His eyes begin to water, and if he doesn’t have a chance to let it out soon, there’s a real chance he might just up and explode.
“You just got rejected by a Squirrel,” he laughs when we’ve exited the plane and are walking through the airport.
“A what?” I ask, startled.
“Squirrel, Sciuridae, a tinker.”
“I know that. But she was Aparian?”
I don’t know many people in the Squirrel faction. They’re gifted with magic that lets them manipulate mechanics, are brilliant engineers and technicians, and are crazy smart. But everyone knows that when you get a group of them together, it’s only a matter of time before something explodes.
It’s kind of their thing.
“That explains the game,” Eric says, looking thoughtful—as if he still can’t quite wrap his head around the fact that there’s a woman alive who turned him down.
“You know,” I say flippantly, “she probably didn’t want to get involved with a man who not only takes his cat on vacation but dresses to match him.”
Eric scowls and gives Charles an extra pet, probably worried I hurt the poor guy’s feelings. “He’s your cat.”
I flash him a brilliant smile. “Yeah, but she doesn’t know that.”
“Stop picking on the Bunny.” Jonathan sets his hand on the small of my back, directing me through the airport.
Stopping abruptly, I give him a pointed look, ignoring the amusement that crosses his face as he gets the point and removes his hand.
He just doesn’t understand that we can’t make this public. No one and nothing can know that we’re…well, I don’t know what we are. But whatever it is, it must stay under wraps.
Eric calls a cab, and by midnight, we’ve checked into our rooms. That’s right—rooms. Plural.
I get one all to myself, which means none of Jonathan’s crap invading my bathroom space. None of his clothes taking up prime real estate in the tiny closet. No one crawling into bed with me in the middle of the night when a fake ghost makes its rounds at three in the morning… Not that I’m expecting a ghost here. Obviously.
And that last one was totally a perk, even if it sounded like a con.
We end up on the eleventh floor of The Mediterranean. The hallway ends in a carpet-to-ceiling window, and Vegas lights up the night.
“What is it with criminal Aparians and casinos?” I muse out lou
d. First Tahoe, now Vegas.
“Hmm…free alcohol, loose morals, humans throwing away money, no clocks or concept of time,” Eric drawls. “Yep, I have no idea what draws your Foxy comrades.”
I laugh and follow them to our rooms. “So you think it’s a Fox?”
Jonathan looks at me over his shoulder. “Sweetheart, it’s pretty much always a Fox.”
“But why would a Fox want to drain Peacocks of their magic? What purpose would it serve?”
Though magic can be extracted, it’s a tricky substance. It’s a tangible thing, viscous in its raw state, but it’s not like you can drink it and assimilate the power—it would likely just kill you at full strength. Metalsmiths of old were able to enchant with it, manipulate it into their alloys. But how else could it be used? Just the thought of working with it is barbaric.
“That is an excellent question,” Jonathan answers. “One we will answer after we’ve all gotten some sleep.”
“Beauty sleep,” I tease. “Someone has to look his best for his modeling debut tomorrow.”
Jonathan scowls. Honestly, I’m surprised. I thought he’d love the attention, but he’s not feeling it right now. I think he’d rather let me practice my Taser skills on him, to tell you the truth.
Taser.
I close my eyes, silently groaning. I left my only weapon at Eric and Jonathan’s condo.
“Keep the adjoining door unlocked in case you need us,” Eric says as I stop at my door.
“I will,” I say, shaking my head, still unable to believe I could be that careless.
“We can leave it open, too, if it would make you feel better,” he adds.
When I look over to assure him I’ll be fine, I realize he’s talking to Charles. Rolling my eyes, I slide the card key in the lock, forgoing my magic because it’s late and I’m tired, and step inside when it beeps.
The Mediterranean is a nice hotel, and I’m sure their suites would be lovely. This budget room is fine too, I suppose. Certainly nicer than the motel in Glenwood.
The lights are already on, but the curtains are open to the night. Two queen-sized beds lie in the middle of the room, complete with white sheets, white pillows, and a white bed cover. Everything is inviting but sterile, which suits me fine—I’d rather they douse everything in bleach after every guest. Personally, I don’t need to experience a bed bug infestation. I already have plenty of pests to deal with.
As is fitting for the name of the casino, there are a few Italian touches here and there, from the art print depicting a beach lined with old, brightly colored houses on a rocky hill, to the wallpaper border at the top of the room.
There’s a small table in the corner with a lamp and a chair, and then a bureau and a medium-sized flat screen television across the wall.
Jonathan steps in behind me. “I should check the room.”
“For what?” I ask, scooting my suitcase to the corner. “To see if they left me enough towels?”
The main door closes behind Jonathan. He opens the small closet and then checks the bathroom.
“Seriously,” I say, growing slightly nervous. “What are you looking for?”
Done with his sweep, he leans against the wall and crosses his arms. “I just want to be cautious after what happened in Redstone.”
I can’t fault Jonathan for that. Trent set the whole thing up to mess with my team and me. How do we know he’s not behind this assignment as well?
“What is it?” Jonathan asks when a guilty look crosses my face.
“My Taser—I left it at your place. I didn’t take it with us when we went to my house for dinner, and then I didn’t think about it before we left for Denver.”
“It’s all right,” he says. “You’ll have one of us with you the entire time we’re here anyway.”
I nod, but I’m still mad at myself. “Are you done checking the room?”
“Yeah.” Jonathan leaves the wall, closing the space between us. “And maybe that was just an excuse anyway.”
“Oh?” My stomach clenches as anticipation mixes with anxiety.
“Maybe I just wanted to get you alone again.”
“Jonathan…” I say, trailing off, my head at war with my heart. No matter how much I want it, this can’t end well.
But my protests are weak, and Jonathan knows it. He catches me around the waist. “Gray will be here tomorrow,” he says, nuzzling the crook of my neck.
“Why are you telling me that now?” I mumble. Goodness, he smells delicious for midnight.
He pulls back, meeting my eyes. “It’s going to be more difficult to keep this from him when he’s here.”
I shrug, asking him to get to his point.
“Why are we hiding it?” he finally asks, sounding a bit frustrated—like he’s been thinking about this for the last several hours. “It’s not like we were subtle in Redstone.”
I might have kissed him in front of the team. Once. But in my defense, I was terrified he was going to die.
“Jonathan,” I say, unable to hold in a weary sigh. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”
He goes still, his arms and body becoming rigid around me. “You mean that.”
His tone is different—incredulous and surprised. And it hits me; he read the truth in my words. Let me tell you; sometimes it’s a real pain having feelings for a Griffon.
“I like you,” I say quickly, hoping he reads that too. “But—”
“Please do not finish that by telling me, again, that you’re worried about my safety. That’s what this is, isn’t it? Just like after our confrontation with the imps.”
“But I am worried about your safety.” I stand straighter, stepping out of his arms.
The knight turns away, running a hand through his hair. “This is ridiculous. I’m here to protect you—not the other way around.”
“Jonathan…you’re a Griffon.”
Slowly, he turns. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“You’re…” Don’t say helpless. “Not equipped to deal with shadow creatures.”
“And Rafe is?”
The question takes me completely by surprise, and I blink at him. “What does this have to do with Rafe?”
Jonathan growls into his hands and then walks to the door, rolling his shoulders as if he’s suddenly sore. “I don’t know.”
“Jonathan…”
The knight opens our connecting door and then knocks on the one that’s still closed. In a moment, Eric appears on the other side.
“Hey, did you see the—” The Bunny stops abruptly when he notices the looks on our faces.
“It’s safer if you leave the adjoining doors open,” Jonathan says sternly as he stalks past Eric. “See you in the morning.”
Eric widens his eyes, silently asking me what happened. Irritated with just about everything, I shake my head and turn toward the bathroom—the only place in the room I can hide. A few minutes later, I step under the hot shower spray and do my best to forget the entire exchange.
13
There’s no amount of caffeine in the world that can make me look awake this morning. I spent the whole night tossing and turning, not only stressing over the mess with the shadow creatures but worrying about my argument with Jonathan too.
“Hey, Maddie,” Eric calls to me from the adjoining room. “Come here.”
Too tired to care that I’m in the middle of brushing my teeth, I wander into the room, toothbrush and all. The television is on a news station. The newscaster appears to be just finishing up her spiel, but at the bottom of the screen, the text states that the mysterious animal remains found in Redstone, Colorado were identified as coyotes.
What?
“The guild dealt with that quickly,” Eric says. “Poor coyotes. They get blamed for everything—they’re really quite sensitive creatures, too. Vicious at times, but sensitive.”
I roll my eyes as I walk into the guys’ bathroom to rinse my mouth, and then I step out. “What about the fire?”
&n
bsp; “Ninety percent contained. And other than the mansion, no houses were destroyed. The deaths were all reported as being caused by the fire, too.”
The guild has been busy.
I glance around the tiny room and quickly find something to be amiss. “Where’s Jonathan?”
“He went to get coffee.” Eric flips the television off. “That must have been one heck of a couple’s spat you two had last night. He’s still brooding.”
I blink. “We’re not…”
Eric raises a single brow.
Huffing out a breath, I flop onto one of their beds. “I ended it, okay?”
“Why?” he asks, looking more curious than concerned.
“Because…” I shrug. “It was the right thing to do.”
The knight watches me for far too long before he finally says, “Okay.”
Thankfully, my new phone rings from the other room. I stand, leaving Eric and his judgy eyes.
“Rafe,” I breathe as soon as I answer. “Where are you?”
I texted him yesterday to let him know about the job, but he never answered—which is very unlike him.
“San Francisco.”
“Have you found anything?”
“Not yet.” Then, without so much as a pause, he asks, “What happened last night?”
I step into the bathroom and sit on the edge of the tub, toeing the door shut. “Nothing. We checked into our hotel. Jonathan is supposed to be at the convention by eight.”
“Something happened,” he presses, his tone too knowing.
I exhale slowly and let my head fall back. “We’re states apart. How did you feel that?”
“I’m not sure—it was just a twinge, but it was there. What you were feeling must have been pretty strong.”
“Jonathan and I got into an argument,” I admit, rubbing my eyes just after I remember I already put on mascara.
Great, now I’m going to be an Obsidian raccoon.
“You didn’t tell him what you told me, did you?” he asks.
“Maybe.”
“Lexie.”
“I know.” I sniff. “He didn’t take it well.”
Rafe chuckles, but at least it’s an almost sympathetic sound.
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