Chosen One

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Chosen One Page 21

by Scarlett Dawn


  I blinked slowly. “I don’t know how to play any games for…fun.” I hadn’t had a lot of that growing up. My “fun” games were ones of survival. “What else?”

  “I’m going to remedy that injustice. Everyone should learn how to play chess.” His fingers tapped on the table. “But in the meantime…why don’t you and Sin ride the dirt bikes?”

  My breath caught, my gaze flying to his silver ones. “Thank you.” I was instantly standing, tugging on Sin’s arm, holding Isolde in the other. “Let’s go for a ride.”

  The table went quiet at my abrupt movement, and pronouncement, but Sin only wiped his mouth off calmly, placing his napkin on the table. “Sounds perfect, love.” He stood, taking my free hand in his strong familiar one, leading me down the long table and out of the room. And we went riding, even though I couldn’t concentrate well enough to drive one myself, so I sat on the back while Sin drove us on a hard, extended course, but…my mind lifted the barest bit in the evening breeze and bumps of the natural good fun.

  Later that evening, I was in my favorite cozy Elemental living room curled up on the loveseat after managing to remember through the chaos of my settling mind from the bike ride that I adored the happy-happy, gushy black and white flicks. I couldn’t sleep, having attempted that, and snuck away from my room, managing to ditch my guards after going in a bathroom one way, and exiting through the other door. Sin was asleep, fully oblivious I had slipped away, and I nibbled on a fingernail, getting settled in when I heard the door open, close, and lock.

  I didn’t bother looking. “Not now, Cain.”

  “How easily my name rolls off your tongue when we’re alone,” he stated quietly, but his voice was still void as it had been all day. “How did you know it was me?”

  “Forests before a rainfall,” I muttered, resting my head against the arm of the loveseat, hearing him move closer…only because he was walking heavily, as if he didn’t want to frighten me.

  “You can truly scent me then?”

  My teeth gritted, because he wasn’t leaving. “And when you’re aroused…forests before a rainfall spiced with evergreen.” I flicked a finger at the door feeling his heat from behind the loveseat. “Now, really, I’m not in the mood.”

  A plate of food was suddenly hovering in front of my face, and he stated impassively, “You didn’t eat when you came back from fighting. Or at dinner.” The plate jiggled a bit, the smells heavenly, wafting as I stared at a mirage of carbs and protein. “Remember? You need to eat more.”

  “Right,” I muttered, lifting my hands from the blanket, just on the cusp of grabbing what appeared delicious when only hours ago dinner had seemed like a sick, cruel joke. “Me, and my mothering hips, really need this.”

  His wolf huffed quietly, but his voice was still toneless when he spoke. “Just eat it.”

  My lips pinched, but I grabbed the plate as the brown gravy started to spill over the mounded wall of mashed potatoes onto the chicken and part of a buttered roll. “I could probably eat.” Lifting a large spoonful of potato goodness slathered in brown heaven, I paused, stating, “Thank you.”

  He grunted, and I saw his hip lean against the back of the couch, and he flicked a finger to the television. “You’re watching this because…?”

  Not bothering with manners, I stated around a mouthful, “Leric pretty much indicated I needed to do things I enjoy to keep my mind off of the shit that went down, all that,” my mind blanked for a moment, memories of darkness, and I shuddered, “evil. But since I don’t play chess, or whatever he uses to cope, I picked what I do like.” I pointed at the screen with my spoon. “I enjoy these movies.”

  “Ah.” His wolf huffed quietly. “And bike riding?”

  “Yes.” Isolde woke on my lap, staring up to him. After two more bites down, and he didn’t appear to be going anywhere, still as a statue behind me, but silent and watching the show, I sighed heavily. “Want to watch the movie with me?”

  “I am.”

  I grunted, and took another bite. “Fine. I didn’t want to share the loveseat, anyway. The last time I shared it with a Shifter I ended up getting squashed.” Not to mention, a lecture the next morning. “I can hate you just fine from where you’re standing.”

  A moment passed, then he asked slowly, “What Shifter did you share this sofa with?”

  I chuckled quietly, a bit evilly. “Not going there, Cain.” My gaze flicked back to his expressionless, stony face. “You took my virginity, not the other guy.”

  His eyes narrowed the barest bit before flicking back to the television, and I saw his jaw ticking the barest bit, a crack in his stony façade. “Does your mate know you’re down here?”

  I snorted, turning my attention to the show, taking another bite. “He’s not my mate. He’s my One. And after he peeked into the room to make sure Sin wasn’t sleeping in there—”

  He snorted.

  “he left for his own room.”

  “And Sin? Did you leave him peacefully unaware?”

  “Pretty much.” I ate another bite. “He’s stressed enough as it is.”

  Another long moment passed. “He’s never kissed you like that before.”

  My spoonful paused to my mouth. “No, he hasn’t.” I ate the bite slowly.

  “Why now?”

  Simple words. “Because he was frightened I’d really been hurt, plus, he’s figured us out.”

  His fingers tapped on the back of the couch for a full minute while I tried to concentrate on the show, then he asked gradually, “What has he figured out exactly?”

  I snorted about his finagled way of asking me my own thoughts. “Other than we’ve slept together?” My eyes flicked back to his striking handsome, stony profile, then to the television. “He’s also figured out we love to hate one another.”

  “Hmm,” he hummed quietly with long minutes passing of his fingers tapping near my shoulder. “We’ve never just watched a show.”

  “We haven’t done a lot together,” I mumbled honestly, continuing to eat my meal.

  More tapping of his fingers, tempo speeding slightly, the only sign indicating what he was feeling. “Maybe I will sit for a bit.” Instantly, he was moving around the arm of the loveseat, blocking my view of the screen…also giving me a great shot of his bare back muscles flexing as he maneuvered on silent feet between the couch and small coffee table, his tight ass covered in soft cotton, black pajama bottoms. I immediately started moving my legs as he sat woodenly next to me, his frame even bulkier than Brann’s, so he utterly squashed me. “Christ,” he muttered, lifting his hips, pulling my feet out from under his legs not having moved them fast enough…and he placed them gently on his lap, his hand resting over them, keeping them there as he tried to get comfortable, “Elementals have the smallest damn furniture.”

  I cleared my throat, ignoring the jibe. “Quit complaining and watch the show.” I pointed with my spoon, trying to disregard how he leaned even more on me after he rested his bare feet on the coffee table. “I like silence during a movie.”

  His wolf huffed quietly while his scent enfolded me, his warmth surrounding. “Well, that’s one thing we have in common.” His large fingers started gently playing absently with my toes, and Prodigy toe ring, while I tried to concentrate on the movie. “Although,” he stated a few minutes later, shaking his head at the actor’s antics, his stony countenance starting to dissolve, “our choice in movies varies greatly.”

  “Let me guess. You’re a blood and guts type of film lover?”

  He chuckled quietly. “That was obvious.” His head tilted toward mine, and suddenly our faces were very close, his gaze instantly locking on mine. My heart stalled in my throat, and instantly, my mouth went dry as I started to fall into their complex depths, memories of our time together rushing me—the lie it had been, half his amazing features outlined in the light of the television, the other half shadowed in the darkness of the room. Much like the both of us in life. His smile slowly disappeared, his lips thinning, and he
murmured softly, “I hate you so much you’re not my kind.”

  I breathed a tortured, quiet chuckle. “And I hate you because you’re an unscrupulous asshole.”

  We only continued to stare.

  Heart stalling, I had to ask on a whisper, “Was any of it real?”

  His lips thinned even more, his eyebrows slowly squeezing together.

  “Right.” I cleared my throat, feeling it start to burn when he didn’t answer. “I under—” His finger against my lips stopped me.

  “Don’t.” He shook his head slowly, little by little pulling his finger away from my lips. He ran a hand through his curls, turning his attention back to the television, giving me his profile, but his tone was still quiet when he spoke. “More than I’d like to admit was real.” I froze completely, and his gaze flicked to mine, holding. “But, you were still a job. I reported everything you told me in confidence to Elder Jacobs the minute I left you. My loyalties were not to you. I would have killed you in a heartbeat if I considered you a threat.”

  I inhaled slowly. “And when you found out I was from the future?”

  Simple words as he held my gaze. “I hated you even more.”

  Tears filled my gaze, but I would be damned if I shed them in front of him. “I loathe you.” I hated so much he had used me. Had sex with me for his “in”. Hated the man he had been when I had thought him someone else.

  The only consolation…his eyes. While his expression was absolutely neutral, they were just as tortured as mine. He held my gaze evenly, not flinching away from what he saw, and also, not hiding his own conflicted abhorrence. “As I despise you.”

  I sniffed once, because it couldn’t be helped, and turned my attention from him, swallowing hard, and eating another bite, the food going down like sludge now.

  “I won’t apologize, Caro.”

  “As you’ve said.” I swirled a piece of bread in the remaining mashed potatoes. “Just like I’ll never feel anything but contentment for being an Elemental.” The spirit part was a burden, but out of all the Mysticals, I would still pick to be my faction, even given my current problems. Being an Elemental was part of who I was, part of what made me…me.

  His wolf huffed quietly, then he turned his face to watch the show as I was. “So,” he cleared his throat softly, running his hand through his tight curls again, even as Isolde started to inch her way toward him, crawling stealthy, “what’s up with the tiger thing?”

  My chuckle was harsh. “Don’t get your hopes up. I won’t be going furry.” Leric had explained it was just part of who we were, an integral part of our bone structure, making us stronger, but animalistic—tied to our emotions. “The tiger only erupts—sounds—under extreme feeling.”

  His wolf huffed again more loudly, and after a moment he stated, “It also makes sense for Bindi’s assessment about,” his nose crinkled, “your mate’s body structure in King Collins’s report, which means you’re probably built much the same.”

  I couldn’t comment on that, but I stated, “He’s my One. Not my mate.”

  He grunted, his jaw ticking. “You have a damn bond, the closest thing two Mysticals can have magically. All the mate gifts, plus more. Not to mention you’re both incredibly possessive.” His fingers tapped on my feet, and it didn’t appear he noticed when Isolde crawled onto his lap. “You know I could take him, right? I won’t say anything about Sin, because I know you care deeply for him, so I won’t say I could take him too…since that’s a given, but,” his gaze flicked to mine, hard and cold, then back to the television, “you know I can take your mate, right?”

  Instant. “My One, not my mate.” But, I stared, not believing what I was seeing or hearing. “Is this like one of those dick measuring contests?”

  He snorted hard, arrogantly and confidently. “My dick’s definitely bigger than his.” He flicked a finger at me as I continued to gape at the side of his face. “Back to the issue. I’m not frightened of him. We’re of a like age, but I’m a wolf.” Said wolf growled a bit as if I had forgotten this. “I could rip his head off—”

  I placed my finger over his lips this time, leaning a bit with the action. “As you’ve said…I’m a bit possessive, so don’t go threatening him.” My tiger huffed quietly. “I’m the only one that can do that.” That…was the truth, but…he was being damn adorable going all I’m-the-baddest-wolf-on-the-block, so I leaned a bit more and kissed the corner of his mouth softly, and felt him go predatory still at the touch. “But, yes, I believe it would be one hell of a battle between you two.”

  He leaned a bit…just a smidge…keeping my mouth pressed to the corner of his, and he murmured, “I’d win.”

  My lips curved. “God, I wish you hadn’t been such an uncaring asshole.”

  “And I wish you were a wolf,” he stated just as gently, and then paused. “Hell, I’d even take you as a damn bird…and that’s fucking saying something.”

  I tilted my head, and did what I wanted, stroking his lips full on, but very softly, still hurt…still so full of hate. “What’s wrong with a bird?” But, God, his lips were so damn perfect.

  His wolf made a damn…huffing-growl-purr sound that had my libido thumping in time to my heartbeat as I stroked his unmoving lips again, and he spoke against my mouth, again pressing into the touch, but not adding to it. “They sometimes squawk during intimacies, just like my wolf growls.”

  “Mmm, I agree,” my brows lifted, “that would be awkward.” I kissed him once more, and paused, faltering, holding my mouth against his when he cautiously kissed me back, the very softest of brushes. Air rushed past my lips, fucking grateful I wasn’t completely alone in this, and I pressed my lips to his more firmly, my eyes closing with the motion, not wanting to do any more than this, not after everything between us, and also, not after the horrible first day on the job as the Chosen I’d had. Our last joining had been heady, but these delicate touches were intoxicating as his plush lips pressed against mine more firmly, stroking my lips in a tender caress. I pressed even more firmly for a moment, holding my lips there, just being in this soft moment with him…Cain…him without an agenda I reviled, without his detest for relations outside his kind…just us…well, it was really nice. Peaceful, almost.

  His hand cupped my cheek softly as our mouths melded so damn seamlessly, his thumb brushing over my jaw in soft strokes, his breath shuddering a bit against my mouth before he nipped delicately on my bottom lip, tugging it softly. “This changes nothing. You’re still a spirit bitch to me.”

  “Agreed, she says to the uncaring asshole.” I chuckled against his lips, my mouth caressing, stroking his again with my words. “As I said, we love to hate one another.” Currently, there was no other way for us, both of us feeling…too much. I stroked his lips once more, his mouth, supple and soft brushing mine before pulling back gently, staring into navy blue eyes an inch from my own. “At least we’re being honest with each other now.”

  Black brows lifted the barest bit. “That, we are.” His lips twitched. “And if I’m completely honest, I’d have to say your Vizoac’s seriously the most screwed up I’ve ever known.”

  I blinked, and then glanced down. I stared. Isolde was lying on her back…on his lap…snuggling between my feet and his bare, rippled stomach…snoring softly. “Oh.” She looked damn cute. “She’s comfortable.”

  His thumb brushed once more over my jaw before he lowered his hand, and his gaze, from my face, and with an extremely tentative motion, he used one finger to gently rub her belly. She woke, and he froze completely, but she only lifted her head, sniffed his finger…then dropped her head back, and not even a second later, she was snoring again. “Yeah,” his wolf huffed quietly, even as he started petting her again, “seriously the most screwed up one I’ve seen so far.”

  “Hush,” I muttered, resting back against the couch, situating the blanket so he had some. “I want to watch the movie now, not listen to you make fun on my Vizoac.”

  He grunted, but he carefully, and slowly, lifte
d her sleeping tiny body as he pulled the blanket over his legs, scooting down on the loveseat, and I quickly moved my almost empty plate to the arm of it when he pressed more of his upper body against my chest, resting the back of his head against my shoulder and neck, placing Isolde on his massive chest, then gently pulled the blanket up over them, so only her tiny head peeked out. His soft curls were tickling my cheek and his heavy muscled weight could have definitely been distributed differently, but I didn’t utter a word of complaint, not wanting to ruin this stolen moment as we began watching the movie in—what felt like—peaceful silence.

  And, I realized…my mind had calmed while in his presence.

  Chapter Fifteen

  During training the next morning I could tell Elder Merrick was tired.

  He was back to being an Elder asshole in front of the others, his tone frigid again—although it wasn’t as bad as the previous day—and he repeatedly kicked my ass, unrepentant and merciless, never helping me stand when I lay sucking oxygen on the ground, hurting and—sometimes—bleeding. But I had seen him stifle a yawn twice. And he did this odd thing with his shoulders, not a roll like some do to relieve tension, but like a half roll/half trying to pop his back motion, which had his cotton t-shirt stretching quite nicely over his chest, which I had glared at plenty, getting irritated and pissed I still managed to notice after he, or Elder Zeller, slammed…knocked…shoved…smacked…thumped…bashed…jostled…or tripped me repeatedly onto my damn back, my own body now aching.

  His back issue problem probably roused from an empathic memory of the middle of the night. We had watched one movie silently, pleasantly. After it had ended, he had grabbed the remote when I hadn’t moved to go to bed—still untired and worried about closing my eyes—and found some ancient shoot ‘em up movie I had instantly cringed from, seeing all that carnage like the damn battlefield of the Barren, so I had snuck my hand out, grabbed the remote back and found another happy-sickening movie to watch, pleasing me immensely. After inhaling heavily, he had only grunted, not complaining…then fell asleep against me during the first half of it, his head tilting in his sleep so his eyes were shaded against my neck, his breathing even and soft, but the positioning hadn’t appeared all that comfortable for him, which he had demonstrated it, indeed, hadn’t been when I had eventually woken him—as much as he would be, standing and bending backward, all types of bones popping before he left the room, all sleep rumple…and carrying my damn Vizoac, damn near sleep walking. Isolde, the traitor wolf, I believe had slept with him, only appearing when he had to sit and watch me get my ass handed to me, growling at them, but staying still after I had ordered her to.

 

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