The Twelfth Keeper Boxed Set: Books 1-3

by Belle Malory

  Kennedy caught sight of her reflection in the hall mirror and grimaced. Holy hell. She still resembled a circus performer, minus the purple eyes. “I don’t normally wear this stuff. I was messing around with my sister’s makeup.”

  He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “So you like to paint on and off the canvas.”

  That was a nicer way of describing what she put her face through. “I guess so.”

  Phoenix rocked back on his heels, his gaze drifting over the walls, up to the ceiling and then finally back down to her. “I feel like I don’t know as much about you as I thought.”

  Insinuations filled his words, whether he meant for them to or not. Kennedy swallowed the giant lump in her throat. He didn’t come right out and say what he was thinking, but he didn’t need to. She already knew, and she suspected it was why he was here. The only thing she couldn’t figure out was why he bothered coming at all. The way he kept his distance, standing across from her stiffly, left no doubt in her mind he had seen the waves.

  “So where’s your bedroom?”

  She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, looking up at him in confusion. He had asked that question so casually, he could’ve been asking where the kitchen was. “You want to see my bedroom?”

  “Yes.”

  For a second she forgot its location, lost in his inscrutable gaze. She cleared her throat, trying to collect herself. “Upstairs on the right. I share it with Reagan—”

  She hadn’t even gotten the words out of her mouth before he headed that way.

  Okay. This was definitely strange behavior coming from Phoenix. She couldn’t help but follow him, wondering what he was hoping to find in there.

  If she thought him being in her house was invasive, his presence in her bedroom was ten times worse. She hadn’t lived here in months, but still…this was her home, nothing like the lifeless apartment on Olympus that she was still settling into.

  Guessing which side of the room belonged to her was easy. It looked like a tornado had blown through exactly half of the space—rumpled bed, clothes strewn across the floor, old-fashioned books piled high on her nightstand—and she’d managed to create the mess in a only a few days’ time. The other half was immaculate. Needless to say, sharing the room with her OCD sister had caused many arguments over the years.

  When Phoenix stopped next to the window, she had trouble breathing. He only glanced out of it for a moment before turning around, but it felt wrong. That window was stapled to the part of her life she reserved only for Hunter. Intertwining the two parts had never been on the agenda. It was like trying to put pieces together from two different puzzles; they didn’t fit.

  She sat down on the bed, feeling lightheaded. Pretending like nothing was wrong wasn’t working. If he didn’t start talking soon, she was going to lose it. “Why are you here, Phoenix?”

  “Is there a reason I shouldn’t be?” Ice coated his voice, which lowered a few octaves.

  She squeezed her eyes shut, and focused on breathing. His weight sank next to her on the bed, and when she opened her eyes he was staring at her with that same unreadable expression as before.

  How did he stay so unaffected? Every little thing about him affected her, and yet he didn’t bat an eye. “I can leave if you want me to,” he offered, as if it didn’t matter to him one way or another.

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  She pressed her lips together, wondering how much longer he intended to torture her. He leaned closer, the sound of his voice tickling her ear with its seductive resonance. “I came because I wanted to see you.”

  “You wanted to see me?” She didn’t buy it. His words and his eyes were telling two different stories.

  “Why wouldn’t I want to see you?”

  That was all she could take. Kennedy stood up, losing every ounce of control she had left. “I kissed my neighbor.”

  There. It was out there.

  Breaking the news (that probably wasn’t news) to Phoenix could have been done in any number of ways, but she meant to say “I kissed Hunter” and somehow the word neighbor replaced his name as if she were incapable of saying it.

  Guilt clawed at her insides, and until this moment, she hadn’t realized that guilt was linked to Phoenix. She shouldn’t feel guilty. They were not exclusive. She could kiss whomever she pleased, whenever she pleased…but then why did this sound like a confession?

  “I know.”

  She slowly sank back down into the bed.

  He knew. Of course he knew. So why wasn’t he saying anything? Silence filled the room, choking her worse than any words could. “You told me not to put a label on us,” she whispered. “I didn’t.”

  She steeled herself for some type of reaction, his anger, or pain—anything.

  “Do you have a pen?”

  Kennedy pressed her palms against the mattress. Jesus. He was literally the most unfeeling person in the world. Maybe kissing Hunter hadn’t been such an awful thing after all. Maybe it allowed her to see this side of Phoenix before she did something stupid like fall in l—

  No.

  She wouldn’t even think it.

  “Pen?” he asked again.

  She inwardly sighed and pointed to the far corner of the room. “In the desk. First drawer.”

  He went there, dug around for a pen, and while he was at it, pulled out a roll of duct tape.

  She didn’t know if he was mailing a package or planning to murder her. Either way, she watched his odd behavior with a mix of fascination and annoyance. Using his teeth, he tore off a piece of duct tape, then used the pen to scribble something on top of it.

  Kennedy craned her neck to see what he wrote, but it was too far away. After he finished, he ripped the piece of tape off the desk. “Come here, Kennedy.”

  She crooked a brow. “Um...I’m fine where I’m at, thank you.”

  “Come here,” he said more pointedly this time, daring her to disobey.

  This was not the Phoenix she knew.

  Scratch that, this was the Phoenix she remembered before she got to know him—the lethal man-machine with the eyes of death.

  She took a few steps forward, looking for any bottles of water lying around. Spare weapons always came in handy.

  Phoenix slapped the tape against her stomach, startling her. Confused, she straightened her blouse to look at it. It read:

  Kennedy Mitchell

  Property of Phoenix Jorgensen

  Fragile Heart Inside

  She had to read the words a few times before they fully registered. Once they had, she wasn’t sure what to say.

  Phoenix reached for her hand, interlocking his fingers through hers. Warmth spread up her arm, soaring straight to her core. “Is that label specific enough for you?”

  Tears watered her eyes, and she blinked them back. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. She nodded, afraid to speak out of fear her voice would break. He didn’t need to see just how fragile her heart really was.

  “Good,” he whispered, sighing. A thousand pounds released itself from that breath.

  Relief.

  It was the first emotion to cross his face, and she was taken aback by how strong it was.

  “Why now?” She had to ask that question. Couldn’t help it. “Why not the night you brought me into the glass room?”

  “Do I really need to point out how recent events may have changed things?”

  The thought of Phoenix watching her kiss Hunter on TV caused her to cringe. “That’s not what I meant.”

  He looked into her eyes, and she held his intense gaze. He took a deep breath, before saying, “You scare me.”

  Kennedy blinked a few times, letting that soak in. Well, that was…unexpected. And flattering? Um, no. “Funny, I was thinking the same thing about you not even two minutes ago.”

  “I’m serious,” he said. “This—us—scares me.”

  “Why?” If he fed her some crap about the fear of monogamy, she s
wore she would take the tape off her shirt and plaster it to his mouth.

  “Because of what I am, what we are. We’re supposed to be heroes. And everyone knows how to take down a hero—you look for a weakness.” He shrugged, as if it was incredibly easy to figure out. “Isn’t it obvious? You’re my weakness.”

  When she didn’t say anything, his hands untangled themselves from hers, slid up her arms and came around her, enclosing her between them. “I never wanted to risk you. Not you.”

  “Weakness,” she repeated the word in a daze. She had never considered that until now. “We are each other’s weaknesses.” She hugged him back, squeezing him tightly for the hurt he felt at her expense and sharing in his fear. Imagining someone use him to get to her was more than frightening. It was inconceivable. “I’m sorry.”

  “Forget it.” He pulled back a little, and touched the piece of tape on her shirt. “This wasn’t supposed to get so serious. I meant to make you laugh.”

  She did smile as she looked down at the label again. “You should’ve added a warning.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah. Something like May contain nuts.”

  His face broke into a grin, and with it, the tension swept out of the room. “True.”

  “I saw a magazine. It said you and Hephsa Hannigan were dating.”

  “We were,” he admitted. “Over a year ago.”

  She nodded, realizing everything she’d heard was a bunch of lies. She knew it all along, but still…she let it to get to her. His hands teased their way into her hair, and he pulled her close again, breathing deeply. “That night in the glass room, Kennedy, I should’ve told you…exactly how I felt.”

  “Forget it,” she shot back.

  “No.” She felt him shaking his head above hers. “From now on, you will always be sure.”

  Was he going to say…?

  “I won’t use those words,” he said, and she wondered if he had the ability to read minds. “I don’t want the moment surrounded by mistakes.”

  She winced, feeling the weight of hers again. They both made such stupid mistakes. His hiding how he felt, and her pretending to feel something she didn’t. Every part of her wanted to touch Phoenix and kiss him until those mistakes disappeared, hoping they would erase entirely.

  “When I say it—and I intend to—you’ll have no doubt in your mind that I mean it. But until that moment comes, I want you to know how important you are. When I think about the future, I only see your face. When I look at the stars, your name is written in them. You’re not just another girl, Kennedy. There is something about you that is different. Something I know I’ll only feel for you. So I hope you like that label because it’s never coming off.”

  It took enormous effort to pull the air back into her lungs after hearing all that. Phoenix rested his head on top of hers, shaking with her. It couldn’t have been easy for him to open up like that. He was used to a mindless, almost mechanical way of living, and yet here he was, looking inside himself and allowing her to see him, too. She wouldn’t take it for granted. Just as she had felt that incredible feeling that nearly knocked her off her feet on the day they met, she was moved once again. With every word he spoke, she felt her heart bind itself to his, becoming two parts of a whole.

  It was intense and passionate and beautiful. And she was beginning to understand why it scared him.

  Nine

  Phoenix lay next to Kennedy on her twin-sized bed, the side of her body pressed against his. Ocean breezes swept into her bedroom through the window, gently stirring the curtains, the sheets, and their hair. The hypnotic peacefulness of it all was lulling him to sleep, and he fought to stay awake. He’d like to know how people in beach towns got any work done when they could do this all day. He had never felt so relaxed.

  They stayed like that for a long time, staring into each other’s eyes without speaking. Every shade of blue existed within the depths of Kennedy’s eyes. Looking into them, he saw everything that was important to him, and it scared him to think one person could mean so much.

  Neither one of them hurried to remove themselves from her bed. Phoenix hoped to God her family didn’t come back anytime soon, seeing as how the current circumstances looked incriminating…

  “I’m going to kiss you.”

  Because he might as well take advantage of the situation.

  Her whole body tensed up. The steady rise and fall of her chest stilled. She hesitated for a long moment, pressing her lips together before saying, “Okay.”

  He traced one of his fingers over the bow of her mouth. All he could think about was how his lips hadn’t been the last she’d tasted, hadn’t been the last to leave her breathless, hadn’t been the last to set her on fire. He needed to rectify that.

  The need was so powerful, so primal that deep down he knew this had nothing to do with a kiss. This was about erasing all lingering memories of him.

  He moved closer, hovering an inch above her mouth. Closing his eyes, he forced the images of her kissing that slobbering douchebag out of his head. Not that her boy-next-door was a douchebag. He was probably a decent bloke, especially since he’d managed to earn Kennedy’s friendship. But it made Phoenix feel better to think of him as a douchebag. He supposed it was easier that way. It made the whole thing less significant.

  Jealousy wasn’t something he was familiar with. So far he wasn’t a fan. He didn’t know if his was a normal reaction, or if he’d lost his mind, and in this case, he had no intentions of telling her what it was doing to him.

  But he could kiss her.

  He could kiss the hell out of her.

  He could prove whatever was between them was bigger than some boy-next-door cliché.

  Lowering his mouth to hers, that was exactly what he did. Everything he felt, he put into that kiss—the love, the pain, the desire, the jealousy, the anger—every raw emotion inside him, he dug out. For her.

  He planned to make her forget her own name, wanted to make her see stars. If exploding perfection existed in a kiss, that’s what he aimed to create.

  Funny thing was…he lost hold of himself, and he wasn’t sure how it happened. It was like she absorbed each emotion, drinking it in, bearing it with him, kissing his wounds and sparking his desire. She welcomed him with passion, as if she’d waited for her whole life for this moment.

  Everything going on outside of the room faded away. She wasn’t Kennedy, and he wasn’t Phoenix anymore. There were no boys-next-door. There were no other people in the world. They didn’t have a planet to protect or humanity—only each other.

  ~ ~

  The sound of a rickety fan and muted voices woke him up. Phoenix blinked, trying to remember where he was. The surroundings were different—the air was warmer and the sheets smelled flowery…like a girl. He sat up, looking around, noticing the stack of print books on the nightstand.

  Kennedy’s house…and her bed.

  Those voices could only mean one thing. Her family was home. He groaned, rubbing his temples. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep even though Kennedy told him to. “You look exhausted,” she whispered, smoothing his brow. He hadn’t planned on staying. But he liked being there, holding her, and enjoyed the feeling too much to move. Before he knew it, he was out.

  That’s what he got for being such a dumbass. He hadn’t slept in two days, not since before he saw that wave…and after that he couldn’t. Every waking thought was spent figuring out the fastest way to get here.

  “You’re way too lenient these days, Mom.”

  Phoenix stood and quietly opened the bedroom door. Sizzling pops and the aroma of someone cooking came from down the hall.

  “For Pete’s sake, Rea, she’s seventeen. I’m giving her a break because it’s nice to see some normalcy in her life.”

  “Ha!” the first voice scoffed—the older daughter, probably. “Like having Phoenix Jorgensen in your bed is a normal everyday thing.”

  Phoenix’s steps slowed. By the sound of that conversation, he wasn’t sur
e if he wanted to go in there. And even if he did, they would wonder how much he’d heard.

  Where were the creaky floorboards when you needed them?

  “Crushes, infatuations—those things are normal and healthy. Honestly, I’m happy Kenn gets to experience a little of that. Imagine what it’s like to live up there all alone. This Phoenix fellow is close to her age. He’s someone she can relate to.”

  Reagan chuckled. “Yeah okay, Mom. If you think they’re just friends, you’re even more delusional than I thought.”

  A few seconds of silence passed while someone turned on a machine—a mixer or blender—and then the mom said, “Why don’t you be helpful, Reagan, and check on the chicken.”

  Before they could say anything else, Phoenix used that at his cue to enter kitchen. Mrs. Mitchell saw him approach and powered off the mixer. Reagan set her spatula down.

  “Hello.” His voice was still low from sleeping. “Sorry to drop in unannounced. I didn’t mean to stay.”

  Mrs. Mitchell leaned against the counter. She studied him with large brown eyes, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. Long, uncomfortable seconds passed without her saying anything, just staring.

  Not at all awkward.

  Finally, she swallowed, collected herself, then said, “I hope you don’t intend to make a habit out of sleeping in my daughter’s bed.”

  Phoenix flinched. Admittedly, being found in Kennedy’s bed wasn’t the greatest move on his part. He should have never allowed it to happen. “I apologize, Mrs. Mitchell. I flew straight from Russia and didn’t realize how jet-lagged I was—not that it’s an excuse. It won’t happen again. I plan to get a hotel tonight.”

  She stared at him a moment longer, dissecting him with her eyes, before saying, “You’re welcome to stay here—on the couch, of course.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck, surprised by the offer, and not entirely sure how to respond. And then he surprised himself by saying, “Okay. That’d be nice.”

  “Are you hungry? I’m making chicken alfredo for dinner.”

  “I’m always hungry.” He grinned sheepishly. That was an understatement, because the truth was that he was always starving, and the smell of Ashley Mitchell’s food already had set his stomach to growling.