The knight looks up, pinning me with his eyes. “You can’t trust this person.”
“I know.”
“Madeline, I mean it.”
“I know.”
“You two ready?” Gray asks, appearing in the doorway.
Jonathan wordlessly hands Gray the note.
“What does that mean?” the Wolf demands.
I shrug, not wanting to bring up the thresholds. “He overheard me talking to Rafe about the buffet. He must have been in here with us.”
Gray growls before he folds the note several times and shoves it in his pocket. “I’ll see if we can get fingerprints off it.”
“Fingerprints?” I scoff. “What are we? Human?”
“It’s the best I can do right now.” He runs his hands through his hair. “You’re sure he’s not somewhere in the room?”
I nod. “Pretty positive.”
“All right, grab your luggage. Let’s get out of here.”
The suite is a lot nicer than my last room, which is awesome. I have to share the single bathroom with three guys, which is not so awesome.
Gray motions to the bedroom. “It’s all yours.”
“Thanks,” I say, eyeing the bed. It’s bigger than the last, fluffier, and has about a hundred pillows. It should do nicely.
I’m just wheeling my suitcase in when there’s a knock at the main door. I jump half a foot in the air and yelp like a startled cat.
“It’s just Eric,” Jonathan says, looking like he can’t decide whether he’s amused or concerned. “He doesn’t have a key yet.”
Eric, right. Jonathan texted him with the info about the new room, and he said he’d head up. Guess I’m a bit on edge right now.
Gray opens the door. “Any luck with Chloe?”
“No.” Eric lowers himself onto the couch, looking like a dejected puppy.
“She’ll come around,” Gray says, and then he pauses. “Maybe.”
I disappear into the bedroom, glad I have at least this small space to myself. I change into pajamas, clean off my makeup with a cleansing facial towelette so I don’t have to fight for the bathroom, and crawl into bed without bothering to hang any of my easily wrinkled items. I’ll deal with them tomorrow.
Just when I’m about to turn off the light, I hesitate. I take one last look around the room to assure myself I’m truly alone, focusing on the window and other shadowed areas. I can hear the guys on the other side of the door. They’re messing with the couches and the cot, arguing over who will sleep where. The shower runs; the TV is a hushed blur. I appreciate my privacy, but right now I feel vulnerable separated from them.
Someone intent on breaking into the room must go through them to get to me, I remind myself. That’s the nice thing about a suite—there’s only one main door.
Telling myself to stop being such a baby, I flick off the light, pull the blankets over my head, and attempt to fall asleep. The conversation slowly dies off outside the room, and the main lights turn off.
I can just make out the sound of the last of the casino’s evening street shows, and a police siren howls somewhere in the distance. No matter how many times I shift, I can’t get comfortable. I lie here, stiff and anxious, practically waiting for something to leap out at me.
For the millionth time, I wish I had my Taser—I would sleep with it under my pillow, though I’m not sure that’s exactly safe anyway.
Eventually, even the traffic falls into a lull, quieter now in the early morning hours. Sure, Vegas never sleeps, but it does slow down. This time of night, the hardcore gamblers have found a table or slot machine, and they’re content to while the night away inside, bleary-eyed, just waiting for that big win.
Tired of tossing and turning, at two thirty-seven in the morning, I slip from my room to get a nine-dollar bottle of water from the mini bar.
It’s too dark to see well, but my nighttime vision is slightly better than most—a Fox trait, though not a strong one. I can make out Eric and Gray’s silhouettes on the couches. Looks like Jonathan ended up with the cot. I’m not sure whether he won the coin toss or lost.
I’m just twisting the lid on my water when I sense movement behind me. I whirl around and find a man right there. Just before I scream, he steps in and presses his hand to my mouth.
“Hey, it’s me,” Jonathan whispers, and then he drops his hand when he’s sure I’m not going to shriek.
My heart beats double-time, and I take a deep breath, trying to coax my pulse to return to normal. “You scared me half to death,” I say, keeping my voice low so I don’t wake Gray or Eric. Then, trying to be normal, I take a gulp of my overpriced water.
“I noticed.” Even though he’s speaking quietly, I can hear the smile in his voice.
Once I can breathe again, I realize how close we are. The knight is only a foot away, wearing his regular nighttime uniform of just pajama pants. (And yes, I happen to know that he sleeps shirtless. People say knowledge is power, but believe me when I say too much isn’t necessarily good for your sanity.)
I can feel the heat of his skin, smell the soapy fragrance of his shampoo and body wash. I assumed it was Eric in the bathroom earlier, as he often showers at night, but it must have been Jonathan. Thoughts of showers remind me of Redstone and our ridiculous bluff of a conversation. Which reminds me of kissing him…which reminds me I can’t kiss him now…
Which makes me want to all that much more.
“Can’t sleep?” he asks.
He doesn’t step back, but he doesn’t touch me either. It would be all too natural for him to shift a little closer, maybe rest his hands on my hips. I could slide my palms up his bare chest, give him a clear invitation.
A spark ignites in my belly. The fire spreads, warming me all the way to the tips of my toes, making me wonder if staying away from him is a lost cause. Whether I want to or not, I imagine his lips on my skin, his hand moving to the small of my back and his fingers wrapping in the cotton fabric of my sleep shirt.
“No,” I admit, finally answering his question. “I’ve been awake for hours.”
“Me too,” he murmurs.
A soft snore comes from one of the couches. We both freeze, acting as if we were caught doing something illicit instead of having this mostly innocent conversation—and I say mostly because my mind keeps trying to wander.
When the room goes silent once more, we both relax, and Jonathan shifts a hair closer. “Is there another water in there?”
“Yeah.” I turn, glad for the chance to step away. I don’t trust myself, and my reason for staying away from Jonathan is a solid one. I don’t have to like it; I just have to do it.
His arm brushes my shoulder as he reaches past me into the tiny fridge. He leans down, which inadvertently presses his chest to my back. He’s hot and chiseled and oh-so-tempting, and I grit my teeth, trying not to enjoy the contact quite so much.
“Come on,” Jonathan says when he finds what he’s looking for, and then he walks toward the bedroom. “We’re going to wake everyone up if we stay out here.”
He leads the way, and I try not to hyperventilate when he closes the door behind us.
My mind frolics down a forbidden rabbit trail, but then he goes and flicks on the light, completely killing the mood. Well, almost. You see, we’re not cloaked in the shielding cocoon of darkness anymore, but now I have a clear view of him.
The knight’s pajama pants sit low on his waist, showing off his abs. Jonathan is built like a runner—agile, fast. A combination of hard work and genetics have created a body that’s toned, lean, and just about as tempting as they come.
When I realize I’m basically ogling him, I rip my gaze up from his washboard stomach—just in time to see his eyes move from my bare legs to my face.
We stare at each other, both of us reluctantly acknowledging we were checking the other out.
Self-conscious, I brush the side of my thigh, wishing I’d thought to throw on a robe before I left my room.
As if he can�
��t help himself, Jonathan’s eyes follow the movement. “What happened to your flannel?”
And help me, his tone is all gravelly and deep. I gulp, realizing I’m in real trouble. “I didn’t realize I’d be sharing a room when I was packing.”
Slowly, his eyes travel up my short sleep shorts and matching camisole. When they meet my eyes, my chest tightens. Honestly, I’m decent. Everything important is covered—but I certainly felt safer in the ankle-length nightgown I wore to bed in Redstone.
“So this is your normal nightly attire then?” Jonathan cocks his head to the side, waiting for my answer.
“Usually.”
He takes a step closer, and my heart begins to pound faster. “I like it.”
Be strong, Madeline.
He takes another step, and my legs begin to tremble. Another step, and my mouth goes completely dry. And believe me, I’m not the only one affected. Jonathan’s chest rises and falls with his quickened breath, and his eyes darken.
Without a word, the knight brushes his fingers over mine, just barely touching the outside of my lower thigh. I suck in a breath but try to hide it, though it’s probably a lost cause. He’s too close now to pretend.
Also, the Griffon is touching me—he’s in my head, and I don’t even care. Feeling reckless, I think of our last kiss in Redstone, show him exactly what it felt like to be in his arms, wanting him desperately.
Jonathan closes his eyes and tilts his head back with a soft groan, reliving the moment through my eyes. We’re playing with fire, but right now, I don’t care if I get burned.
If a tree falls in the woods, and no one is around, does it make a sound? I think, knowing Jonathan will hear.
“What?” he asks, startled by what he thinks is a really random thought. Looking half drugged, he watches me through hooded eyes. A questioning smile dances at his lips, making me want to kiss him even more than a moment ago.
Feeling bold, I close the distance between us, pressing myself against him, running my hands up his bare back, skin to skin, without the slightest hesitation. Let him read my thoughts. It’s far safer than admitting how I feel out loud.
Jonathan’s muscles go taut with surprise. I can practically feel his indecision—that, and his hands hover barely an inch from the sides of my waist, giving it away.
Tilting my head back until I can see his face, I lock my eyes on his. If a Griffon kisses a Fox in the middle of the night, do either of them have to admit it in the morning?
The knight sucks in a sharp breath, drawing my attention to his mouth. His hands find my sides, and he lowers his head, his eyes still on mine, testing us both. My eyelids flutter when his lower lip barely touches mine. Our breath mingles; our hearts race.
I’m terrified, but I’m weak. As much as I need him, I know I should end this. But I’m not going to.
I’m sorry.
“For what?” He taunts me with those two words, his mouth so close to mine.
“For telling you we’re through one minute and kissing you the next. Believe me when I say I can’t stand that girl…but here we are.”
He raises a brow. “You haven’t kissed me yet.”
“I’m going to.”
A swift grin lights his face, and he looks down as if trying to hide it.
“Jonathan…”
When he looks up, his expression is different. Intent. “You still don’t understand, Madeline. You don’t have to explain yourself. When you touch me—when you initiate that contact, I’m there with you. I feel the war in your head.” Then softly, he adds, “It matches my own.”
“I don’t want to risk you getting hurt just because I’m too selfish to let you go,” I whisper even though he knows. “It would kill me.”
He moves his hand to my cheek and brushes a strand of my hair behind my ear with his knuckle. “And I don’t want to risk your life just because I’m too enamored to pay attention.”
I lower my forehead to his shoulder, hating everything about my magic. More than anything, I wish I could cast it away.
Suddenly, a thought crosses my mind.
“No,” Jonathan growls.
I look up, my brain whirring at a feverish pace. “It could work.”
“Your magic is too dangerous,” he argues. “It’s safer with you than anyone else.”
Shaking my head, I push his protests aside. If I were to find the pixie with the magic-siphoning charm, I could claim it for myself—I could use it on myself.
No more Obsidian magic.
No more magic whatsoever.
I’d be as helpless as a human…but I’d be free.
19
“And what would you do with the bottled magic?” Jonathan demands. Throw it in the ocean? Bury it like a pirate’s treasure? You know you can’t risk someone finding it.”
“We could be together—we could at least give us a chance.” My arms tighten around him as the idea solidifies in my mind.
“Let’s pretend the charm is strong enough to work on you—which I highly doubt it is anyway,” he says. “Now say you manage to safely dispose of the magic and find a way to hide it so no one could ever find it. Even then, you’re still forgetting two significant details.”
It doesn’t matter what he says; I won’t change my mind.
Jonathan leans down, looking at me at eye level, making sure I’m listening. “First, the process is known to be excruciating—why do you think the Royal Guild employs it? It’s pure torture. And second, if you give up your magic and break the link, Rafe will die.”
His words echo in my head, leaving me feeling more helpless than ever in my life. “What?”
“You’re linked, Madeline. If you sever that link, it will kill him. It might kill you as well, but I’m not sure because you’d practically be human at that point.”
I stare at the Griffon, breathing hard. “Surely there’s a way around it.”
We stare at each other, and I silently beg him to think.
“I guess, maybe—” Jonathan cuts himself off, shaking his head.
“What?” I demand.
“If Rafe found someone to link with before it was too late, he might live. But he’d only have a few minutes to accomplish it, maybe less.”
It’s impossible. Rafe didn’t even want to link with me. What’s the chance he would find another random person he’d accept such an intimate bond with?
I turn abruptly, overwhelmed with despair. I bring my hand to my face, refusing to let Jonathan see how devastated I am. For one brief moment, I saw a light at the end of my dark, cold tunnel. And just like that, it was snuffed out.
“Besides,” Jonathan says softly, setting his hands on my shoulders and tucking my back to his chest. “I’m glad you were gifted with your magic.”
“What?” I whisper, wondering how he could say such an awful thing. And what does he mean gifted? It was the luck of the draw, the curse of my bloodline. I certainly wouldn’t call it a gift.
“Hear me out.” He rubs his chin along the side of my neck, coaxing a smile out of me. “The Royal Guild fears the Obsidian Queen for a reason—you’re more powerful than you realize. Thank goodness it was you, and not some other random Fox, who was born with the Obsidian magic.”
I let out a mirthless laugh. “Because I’m not actually strong enough to create mass pandemonium?”
He leans over my shoulder to look me in the eye. “Because you’re strong enough to resist the urge to create mass pandemonium.”
“Do you honestly think that?” I whisper.
I want to believe him, but I have so many doubts.
“You’re the magic’s keeper. Haven’t you realized that? You see it as a burden, something that’s ruining your life. But when I look at you, I see someone I’m honored to stand behind. Every knight marshal in the world would kill to be in our position, even if they don’t know it now. You’re the first Obsidian Fox in history to stand your ground and refuse to let the magic control her.” He turns me in his arms, making me look at him direc
tly. “Madeline—you’re the first one who is strong enough to wield your magic.”
I want to believe him—desperately. But I have fears and doubts and more weaknesses than I can list. And Jonathan knows it because we’re touching.
After a long moment, I clear my throat. “You really can’t say things like that.”
“Why?” His eyes narrow to questioning slits, and a smile toys at his lips.
I run my hand up the back of his neck, twining my fingers in the short hair at the base of his scalp, doing just as I imagined earlier. “Because my jaded heart is liable to fall in love with you, and then where will we be?”
He watches me for several long seconds, and then his eyes drift to my lips as he leans down. “Doomed.”
I nod, and my breath catches with sweet anticipation. “Exactly.”
“Turn off the light,” he whispers.
Swallowing, I use my magic to flip the switch. Simple as that, we’re cast into darkness. Unlike earlier in the night, it doesn’t feel ominous. In fact, it feels full of sweet, forbidden expectation.
I close my eyes when Jonathan’s hands find my shoulders. With a touch so soft it would tickle if I weren’t on fire, he runs his palms down my arms, exploring without sight. He trails his fingertips over my hands and up each of my fingers.
When he clasps my hand and presses a kiss to my wrist, butterflies flutter in my stomach. Apparently not finished, he then kisses the tip of each of my fingers, taking his time, leaving me breathless.
Never in my life have I wanted a man more. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it another thousand times: there’s just something about Jonathan that calls to me.
He chuckles, reading my thoughts, and lightly nips my skin.
“Do I have to persuade you to stay out of my head?” I tease, but I’m practically breathless, so the warning is weak.
Instead of answering, his hands find my sides, and he coaxes me backward. When the backs of my legs bump into the bed, I sit, pulling him with me. He picks me up, moving us farther down. And then my head is on the pillows, and Jonathan is over me, his forearms pressed to the mattress on either side of me to hold his weight.
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