Knights of Obsidian

by Shannon Lynn Cook

  “What’s your message?” I demand, wrapping my hand around the styling tool’s handle.

  “Come with me, and I’ll tell you.”

  Unable to help myself, I laugh. “Not happening.”

  He takes another menacing step forward. “No is not really an option.”

  And then he lunges for me, arms wide like he means to capture me in a menacing bear hug. I wield my curling iron like a sword, swinging it wildly toward his face. It must have gotten hot in those few seconds because the Fox lets out a deafening roar when the metal connects with his skin, and my stomach rolls like I’m going to be sick—the sizzling sound isn’t pleasant.

  The man stumbles backward, clutching his face, screaming obscenities that make my ears burn. He does not have nice things to say about me, and if he intends to make good on half his threats, I’m as good as dead.

  I yank the cord from the outlet, ready to run but not about to leave my only weapon behind, when the man suddenly stumbles forward and crashes to the floor, unmoving.

  I freeze in place, shocked, and slowly pull my eyes up.

  Rafe stands in the doorway.

  His indigo eyes meet mine as he lowers his gun. Slowly, he raises a brow. “Hello, Lexie.”

  22

  My knight looks at my weapon of choice with an unflappable, if not slightly incredulous, expression, but I can feel his chaotic emotions—fear, relief, anger, and if I’m not mistaken, he’s even a little impressed.

  “Hi.” My hand shakes as I manage to set the curling iron on the counter. My head gets a little fuzzy, but I’m hoping that’s because I skipped lunch and not because of the dead man on the tile floor.

  Slowly, Rafe’s gaze drops to the lifeless Fox. “Something tells me the envelope didn’t contain buffet tickets.”

  I snort out a laugh and then promptly sit on the side of the tub and fight back tears. “It’s been a really bad day.”

  Wordlessly, Rafe steps over the body and kneels in front of me, resting his arm on his leg as he crouches. His teak-colored hair looks like it’s been recently trimmed, and there’s a hint of shadow along his jaw. In his dark jeans, black jacket, and boots, there’s an air of danger about him. But that might be the dead body talking.

  He offers me a smile, one that reaches his eyes, and nudges my knee. “Bad day, huh? At least your hair looks great.”

  I laugh, just as he hoped, but it turns into a groan. “How are we going to get rid of him?”

  Visions of the two of us pulling the Fox’s bleeding body down the hall dance in front of my eyes. There might be garbage bags involved, but I don’t really watch mobster movies, so I’m not terribly familiar with how this all works.

  “Easy.” Rafe pulls his phone from his pocket, and I see Gray’s name pop up on the screen. My knight raises his eyebrows, smirking at me when the Wolf answers the phone. “We need a clean-up on aisle five.”

  “You just got into town, and you’re already working on your body count?” I hear Gray say.

  “Nah, this is Madeline’s. I just finished him off.”

  Gray says a really bad word, and then he asks where we’re at.

  “In your room.”

  Go figure—Gray doesn’t like that much either.

  After another moment, Rafe hangs up. “Help is on the way.”

  “He didn’t tell me anything,” I explain to the team plus Rafe. “He just wanted me to go with him, and when I refused, he attacked me.”

  I sit on the couch, fiddling with a pair of handcuffs Eric left lying around, frustrated I didn’t coax the man to talk more when I had the chance.

  Eric chuckles and shakes his head.

  “What?” I demand.

  “Just thinking about the curling iron.” He grins. “You’re brutal, little Fox.”

  “I didn’t have a lot of options.”

  Jonathan sits at the chair by the desk in the corner, drumming his fingers on the hotel stationery. He hasn’t said a word this entire time, and I know he’s blaming himself. This is exactly what he worried would happen—he let down his guard for a few minutes tops, and I was attacked.

  “But he knew about your magic?” Gray questions. “And he was the one leaving you the notes?”

  “I believe so, yes.”

  Rafe leans against the door, arms crossed. “But he might not have been working alone.”

  Gray nods, and then he turns to Jonathan. “And why exactly did you leave her by herself?”

  “Because I asked him to go,” I say before Jonathan can answer—I refuse to let him take the brunt of this.

  “No, it’s my fault,” Jonathan argues, and it’s clear from his tone that the matter is closed.

  Gray looks between us, and then recognition dawns on his face when he realizes what happened—as he should, considering he was the instigator.

  “From this point on, under no circumstance, will Madeline ever be left alone,” the Wolf finally says. “Is that clear?”

  “Do I get a say in this?” I demand.

  “No.”

  I grit my teeth, wanting to lash out but afraid I’ll end up sounding like a spoiled teen. And I get it—unless I want to unleash a whole lot of darkness, my magic is limited when it comes to protecting myself. On top of that, my training with human weapons is minimal.

  This was a good lesson, however, that I need to carry that stupid Taser with me everywhere, so I won’t accidentally leave it behind again.

  “Props to Madeline for her resourcefulness, though,” Eric says. “Am I right?”

  All eyes turn on me, and Rafe smirks when I squirm.

  I attacked a man with a curling iron. I’ll never live it down.

  “What are you doing?” Eric suddenly asks, looking at my hands.

  I glance down at the cuffs, frowning at them. One is locked over my wrist, and without really thinking about it, I’ve been working my magic this whole time, trying to get it open. “I was practicing.”

  “Those are charmed specifically to block Fox magic—you can’t pick the lock, and as long as you wear them, you won’t be able to use your persuasion. How else would we contain you criminal types?” Eric laughs. “You’re not getting it off without a key.”

  Jonathan clears his throat and crosses the room, kneeling in front of me, making my heart break anew. Without a word, he produces a key and frees me.

  “Thanks,” I murmur.

  He meets my eyes and nods.

  Gray’s phone chimes, saving us from further interaction. “Parker is getting impatient,” he says. “We need to get to the convention center.”

  “I think it goes without saying that this afternoon’s events don’t need to be shared with anyone outside our team,” Rafe adds as the guys stand. “This was about Madeline—not the case.”

  They all nod, and Eric asks, “Did you know him, Rafe? Had you seen him before?”

  “He looked vaguely familiar, as if maybe we were acquainted when I was younger. But I can’t place him now.”

  I think of the man, wondering what the guys did with his body. All I know is it’s not in the bathroom anymore, and none of them were arrested while they were disposing of it.

  “I need to speak with Madeline,” Rafe says. “You three go on down, and we’ll meet you in a bit.”

  Gray nods. “Parker wants to walk the area with Jonathan anyway—follow the trail he and Madeline took earlier. It might take a while.”

  Unable to help himself, Eric says, “So Jonathan is literally going to take the Hound on a walk?”

  Rafe snorts, but Jonathan only shakes his head, not in the mood.

  My teammates filter out of the room, off to work on the real case. Jonathan is the last to leave. He pauses by the door, looks between Rafe and me, and then steps into the hall without another word.

  Rafe frowns and turns to me when the door closes. “All right. What’s going on between you and Jonathan? Why did he demand I fly here?”

  “Do you think we should go with them?” I ask, ignoring the questi
on. “They might need our help.”

  “Lexie.”

  “Did you find anything about Trent’s medallion?”

  “No.” Then, not about to be distracted, he asks, “Why did you ask Jonathan to leave you alone earlier?”

  “I think we need to find a War Horse to question—Gray said we’ll request leave and fly to Europe after this case so we can look for one.”

  “You’re avoiding, Madeline.”

  “It makes sense, right?” I babble on. “If anyone would know how to get past the medallion’s magic, it would be a Horse.”

  Rafe crosses the room and sets his hands on my upper arms, making me look at him. Our magic twines together, utterly content. He’s masking his feelings and doing a fine job of it. I can’t feel them over my own chaotic emotions.

  “Talk to me,” the knight says gently. “I flew five hundred miles just to see you.”

  “Jonathan and I came to the conclusion that things will never work out between us,” I finally admit, giving up. It’s not like Rafe can’t already tell I’m suffering a major case of a broken heart.

  “You broke up?” he asks, his brow wrinkling.

  “We weren’t exactly together.”

  You can just slap a cover on that statement and call it the story of my life. My first love was Finn, and he used me. Then I stumbled into a severe case of blind lust with Gray only to find out he’s a dog. And then…Jonathan.

  I’ve never had a real relationship, though I can skirt around the edges of them like a pro.

  “This is because of the link, isn’t it?” he asks.

  I shrug, looking at the knight’s T-shirt. It’s nice and soft, dark blue like his eyes.

  When I do finally answer, I say, “Jonathan said he feels like I’m cheating on you with him.”

  “We’re not together.”

  “I told him that.”

  “We’ll learn to block the link—we’ll practice.” Rafe searches my eyes. “Last night…I was tired. I wanted to sleep, that’s all.”

  I scoff, knowing that’s not all.

  “There was something else going on, but you wouldn’t tell me,” I say. “You’re here now. You flew five hundred miles just to see me—so talk.”

  The knight narrows his eyes ever so slightly, and a strange look crosses his face. “You don’t need to know.”

  “Is that how this is always going to work?” I step forward, growing angry, and then I hold up a finger, about to list his transgressions. “You tell me what to do and think, expecting me to blindly obey. You continue to omit facts and truths in the name of ‘safety.’ You take off because you think it’s a good idea, not even caring how I feel about it.” I give up on the list, and I press a finger against his chest. “I don’t need a nanny, Rafe. I need a knight.”

  His eyes flash, and I see a glimpse of challenge in his gaze. He turns the metaphorical tables and takes several steps forward, urging me back.

  Not about to be a herdable sheep, I stand my ground and tilt my chin up, refusing to budge another inch.

  “You want to know the rest of the story?” he asks, lowering his voice. “Why I was sharp with you when I called? Fine. I dreamed about you—my subconscious answered the call of your emotions. But in my head, it wasn’t Jonathan’s hands on your body—it was mine. It wasn’t him who coaxed you onto the bed, it was me.”

  I hold my breath, acknowledging that I really need to learn when to keep my mouth shut.

  “But there is one big difference between the Griffon and me,” he continues, dropping his voice even further.

  Unable to answer with actual words, I draw in a slow breath through my nose and wait.

  Rafe leans close, meeting my gaze, his expression unreadable but intense. “If I were about to kiss you, I guarantee you wouldn’t have bothered to answer your phone.”

  I stare at him, eyes wide, heart beating madly, no clue how to respond. I swallow and catch my bottom lip between my teeth, trying to collect myself.

  The knight cocks his head to the side, waiting for me to answer—daring me to respond.

  “See there?” I finally say, keeping my tone light—or at least attempting to. “Was that so hard?”

  A crooked smile plays at his lips.

  Is it warm in here? It feels warm.

  I clear my throat, sternly telling myself I will not fan my face like some flustered southern belle. “Now that we’ve cleared that up, I should probably join the team.”

  But before I can escape—and believe me, I try—Rafe catches my arm and pulls me back. “Now hold on just a minute. If we’re being so honest, how about you tell me why you needed me to leave San Francisco immediately.”

  “If you’ll remember, it was Jonathan who said you needed to leave San Francisco—not me.”

  Rafe takes a step closer, studying me in a way that’s not altogether friendly. It’s not necessarily unfriendly either…but it still makes me gulp. With mock patience, he presses, “And why did Jonathan ask?”

  He wants to know? Fine.

  “Because he and Gray have it in their fool brains that we should give”—I motion a hand between us—“a try. Because we’re linked—because we’re stuck together anyway.”

  “They do?” he asks, his voice void of emotion.

  Frustrated, I throw up my hands. “I told them you don’t want that, and I—”

  “I never said I don’t want it,” he cuts me off, taking another step in. “I said it was dangerous. Those are two very different things.”

  Unfortunately, with this lovely conversation comes guilt. You see, even though Jonathan feels like I’m cheating on Rafe with him, right now, I feel like I’m dangerously close to cheating on him with Rafe.

  Even though we’re not together.

  My knight’s expression softens as my sudden despair crashes over him, and he gently grasps my elbows and pulls me close, holding me like a friend.

  “It hurts,” I murmur. And why not? It’s not like I can spare his feelings—he already knows.

  He sets his hand on the back of my head and slowly strokes my hair. “For what it's worth, I am truly sorry.”

  I turn my face forward, resting my forehead against his chest. “It was my choice—I demanded we link.”

  “Do you regret it?”

  He’s nervous of my answer—there’s still so much guilt emanating from him. It circles him like a vulture, preying, taunting.

  “No.” Slowly, I look up, meeting his eyes. “We had no choice. I know it; you know it.”

  Maybe Gray is right—maybe I need to make the best of this, even if it’s not the path I would have purposely chosen. I would be with Jonathan if I could—even now my heart aches for him. I want to scream that this isn’t fair, that life shouldn’t be so cruel. Part of me even wants to resent Rafe, though he fought the link tooth and nail, giving in only when our world was literally falling to pieces.

  But what’s the point? I’m not a child, and if I’ve learned anything over the last few months, it’s that life isn’t always fair.

  Am I ready to move on, however? Not yet.

  Fighting for control, I step back, hugging myself. I need to be strong—I also need to stand on my own two feet. I’m not going to run into Rafe’s arms like I did with Gray when Finn hurt me—I’m not going to use him like that.

  Rafe is my friend, my partner, my knight. And when and if the time comes I choose to involve myself with him romantically, it will be because I want him—not because I want someone else I can’t have.

  And not because we’re linked.

  “What is it?” he asks, shoving his hands in his pockets. “You’re thinking awfully hard about something.”

  I’ve spent nearly every moment of the last three months with this man—day in, day out. We’ve talked, argued, watched sports I couldn’t care less about, shopped for clothes he couldn’t care less about, looked for houses, shared meals, and sent away more dark things than I can count.

  “I missed you,” I tell him, meaning i
t with my whole heart. I might not love him…but I love him. If that makes sense.

  And I’m glad he’s here.

  His expression softens, and he tilts his head to the side, studying me. “I missed you too, Lexie.”

  23

  I walk through the door of the room off the convention center where we all gathered after we found the nearly mummified Peacock and stop in my tracks.

  There’s a newcomer in the group, someone I don’t recognize. She’s five-nine—easily five-eleven with her heeled boots. She wears crazy tight black pants in some kind of stretchy leather, a fitted white T-shirt, cropped olive-green jacket, and her ash-brown hair is up in a sleek ponytail. She looks sexy and dangerous, and I’m pretty sure she’s packing more than a sparkly Taser.

  She’s also touching my Griffon.

  I suck in a breath, taking in the sight of her standing with her hand on Jonathan’s bicep, yelling at myself to knock the jealous crap off. One, Jonathan’s not mine. Two…

  Jonathan’s not mine.

  The woman is basically everything I never knew I wanted to be, and all my insecurities rear their stupid heads.

  “Madeline, Rafe,” Gray says, calling us. “You’re here. Come meet Parker.”

  Hold it. Just back that bus up.

  That’s Parker? The tracker? I thought she was a guy.

  “Hi, Madeline,” Parker says, stepping away from Jonathan and giving me this great big, super friendly smile—the real kind, not even a tiny bit fake. “It’s such a pleasure to meet you. Gray’s team is renowned.”

  This is the part where I should tell her I’m more like a mascot than a member.

  Instead, I nod, feeling out of my league. Parker turns her head to ask Gray something, and a sliver of a tattoo peeks out from her neckline.

  Sure, she’s tattooed too. Tough girl. Probably trained at the Knight’s Academy. Probably can take out a troll with her little finger.

  “Parker thinks she has the pixie’s scent—”

  “Trail, Gray,” she corrects, laughing as she shakes her head. “I’m a Hound, not a dog.”

  Oh, there are so many things that come to mind, but none of them are nice, so I chastise myself and try to pay attention.