Chosen One

by Scarlett Dawn

  “Possibly.” A gentle press of his lips on the top of my head, then he rested his chin back on the top of my head. “But try away.”

  “You’re a demanding ass.”

  “No argument there.” He dipped his head further, placing his cheek against mine, staring into the cosmos as I was, and his voice turned…hesitant, but brusque. “So, you…” he cleared his throat, warm jaw moving against mine, “…care for me? Since you spoke in the plural a moment ago.”

  I stiffened…realizing what I had said too late. “Can you forget I said that?”

  Warm arms continued holding me close. “That’s…a negative.” Silence became his tactic.

  My cheeks flushed, and I felt my heart rate shoot off, and my feet even started squirming the barest bit between his. “A little.” My words were rushed. “But I still hate you.”

  He hummed quietly, not quite frozen around me, but not exactly relaxed, either. “Well,” a harsh clearing of his throat, “it might be possible,” his jaw clenched against mine, gritting through his teeth, “you know…”

  I patted his hand, my own body tense. “You don’t have to go there.”

  He sighed heavily, exhaling all that pent up breath. “Thank fuck.”

  A very slow blink from me as my gut churned, feeling queasy, but also, warmed with anger.

  His body damn near lying on my back in relaxed relief, he inhaled…then froze utterly…to ever so gradually turn his face to mine, then bark, his expression clearly upset, “That was a fucking lie! You’ve never lied to me before!”

  Of course it was. “You deserved it.” You don’t just ask a woman that, then not reciprocate in any way whatsoever, other than to stutter, then say, “Thank Fuck”, when you’re off the hook. It was the oldest language in the damn book, like, a woman smiling, and saying, Oh no, dear. It’s alright you forgot our anniversary…hell no, it’s not alright…you make it fucking right…in a damn hurry before all the loving you see for a year is by your own hand. And in our case, I wanted a damn answer, even if the truth hurt.

  Seriously, who the hell doesn’t get that…other than Cain?

  He grunted heavily, clearly irked. “I don’t like you lying to me.”

  As if he wouldn’t know when I did, anyway. I stayed silent, plenty irked myself.

  “You’re upset.”

  No shit.

  Another grunt. “I’m not good when it comes to this…genuine…emotional crap.”

  No…shit.

  A long quiet pause, then dry words. “Really, honey?”

  Yeah, really. I flicked him an irritated glare from the corner of my eye, just in case my silence, and scent, wasn’t enough for his thick brain to figure out.

  He inhaled heavily, eyes narrowing. His wolf huffed, sounding a half growl. He exhaled slowly, his breath rushing against my cheek. Gritted his teeth, speaking slowly between them. “Alright.” He cleared his throat, fingers digging into my hips, and I didn’t think he even realized it, because it hurt a smidge. His wolf huffed/growled again. Another heavy, gradual inhale, then hurried words. “A little.”

  Um…no. Call me the greedy bastard now, but that wasn’t going to work for me.

  So, I waited. Mutely, with another flicked glare.

  “You have got to be fucking kidding me!” He jerked me to face him, then loomed over me, rising to his full height, spreading his arms wide, voice gravelly. “That’s all you said!”

  Actually, it wasn’t, since he had caught me saying “those I care for”, so I crossed my arms, the tiny scowl I wore not disappearing in the face of his angered frustration.

  He growled low in his throat, the sound all man as he glared. “Fine.” He crossed his arms, our posturing much the same, his own glare in place. “I care. For you.” His eyes narrowed even further. “A little.” His wolf growled softly. “Good enough for you, my goddamn spirit bitch?”

  That, had most definitely not been an endearment this time, but I nodded once. “Yes.” I continued scowling. “I actually suck at this shit, too, since I care for a rare few, but I at least own up to it without having to be prodded.” I “prodded” away at his chest with a pointed finger, still plenty irked. “Don’t ask that crap in the future if you can’t handle reciprocating, even if it is to say you don’t feel the same.” More. Poking. “I. Will. Always. Want. An. Answer.”

  He swatted my hand away like I was a pesky fly, his wolf growling quietly. “I think I’ve got it.” A flicked finger between us. “You care. I care.” He crossed his arms again, shrugging a few times like he was brushing something off. He even cracked his neck. Twice. “Only a little.”

  One decisive nod. “Only a little.” I flicked a stiff finger at my lips. “I want a kiss now.” I crossed my arms again.

  He growled, but bent woodenly, eye level with me, voicing gruffly, “You’re like a damn splinter under my fingernail that no amount of digging will remove.”

  “And you’re like the damn dandelions in my old garden, pretty, but still a weed that no amount of plucking will ever eliminate.”

  He grunted. “Good, we still get each other.” He leaned forward, and brushed his—Christ—soft lips over mine curtly as I had demanded…then…not-so-curtly as our lips lingered for a moment against each other’s. We both growled a little as we pulled away from each other, still glaring at the other. He straightened, flicking his finger at the screen, stating curtly, “I want to speak with Ivory Swift.”

  “Alright, I need you to picture her in your mind,” I stated precisely, touching his shoulder with a powered, glowing hand, connecting us. “Got it?”

  He nodded once, expression now mildly curious.

  I made the call directly with his knowledge, since I didn’t know her…then abruptly ended it, glowering. My body hummed in anger, and I crossed my arms just so I wouldn’t whack him silly. “No.”

  A black brow lifted. “She’s my accountant.”

  Simple. “Get a new one.”

  Patiently, he stated, “She’s very good at what she does.”

  Dry, furious words. “I bet she is.” I disregarded the few pops of furious stars sizzling off my exposed glowing flesh.

  His full red lips trembled a bit. “I meant with my finances.” He cleared his throat when he saw he didn’t have a shot in hell of me calling her again, and exasperated, navy blue eyes raised to the ceiling, muttering something under his breath, and then he mumbled, “Her assistant, then. Jerome Grayson.”

  Flicked agitated finger between us. “If we’re still doing this exclusive bit when we get back, I would suggest you seriously think about finding a new accountant.” And…I wasn’t really kidding, five different ways of how to end her already having entered my mind, the woman a damn goddess of a bombshell Shifter in the bed she had been sleeping on, no one next to her, which meant she may be single. I pointed at his crotch, needing clarification. “Has that been anywhere near her?”

  An amused word. “That?” He glanced down to his crotch. “Ah, you must mean my cock.” His head tilted, still staring at his pants, tone utterly entertained. “Let me think…my cock has met so many…” His fingers thumped on his worn jeans. “Maybe…” He nodded once, lifting his head, crinkled eyes on me, lips trembling. “Yes, maybe.”

  I blinked slowly, glowing a bit brighter. “Maybe?”

  His lips trembled a bit more, but his black brows rose unhurriedly. “Do you really want to have the conversation of everyone we’ve slept with?”

  I inhaled heavily, jaw clenched. “No.” I turned my back to him, swiping a glowing star sizzling hand in the dead air, a screen popping up. “We’re not anywhere close to that point.” I paused, glancing over my shoulder with narrowed eyes. “But if,” a finger point at his crotch, “that, maybe, goes anywhere near her while we’re exclusive, you’ll definitely need to find someone who’s still living to do your damn taxes.” I called the Jerome Grayson he wished for after he pictured him in his mind, touching him for the connection while ignoring his quiet, deep chuckling. I nodded o
nce, seeing two young Shifter men lying snug in bed. They didn’t appear to be a problem…or competition, especially since I was fairly positive Cain was only into women. I turned, trying to move around him, muttering quietly, “I mean it.”

  “I know,” Cain whispered, brushing the backs of his fingers over my glowing, sizzling cheek, not flinching as everyone else did, his own power floating around his fingers protectively. He glanced to the two men still sleeping, then back to me, bending to kiss my forehead softly, voice still a quiet whisper, “You need to cool down before you go out there. You’re currently a bouquet of possessive ferocity. And although, I like it…” Yeah, he didn’t need to say anymore.

  I inhaled heavily, closing my eyes…and leaned in toward Cain, scenting him in soothing gulps. He continued running his finger gently over my cheeks. His thumb brushing my pinched brows until they slowly unfurled, then my thinned lips until they parted slowly for his calming touch. Less than a minute later, I sighed heavily, taking one more whiff of him before I opened my eyes, and glanced down to my arms, which were no longer shimmering, only my eyes still glowing for his call. “Alright, I’m good.”

  His fingers curled around my hand softly, holding me next to him, whispering against the top of my head, “Sleep toward the edge of the bed tonight.” I nodded slightly, and he kissed my forehead once more before herding me toward the door. “If they ask, just say I called my accountant first before having you call another.”

  That had already been my plan, since we had been in here alone for some time now. “Cain?”

  He glanced toward the screen, then back to me with a quiet word. “Yes?”

  I stared up into navy eyes, reaching for the door handle. “I like that you’re still wearing my gift.” And he was, having put the scarf around his wrist again, intertwining it through his thick black arm band while I had been in the shower, and hardly ever a day went by—always when Leric was around—that he didn’t have it on. And even though the others had Elder Farrar or Elder Samson clean them magically for when they wore theirs, he had too, except for a few small splotches of blood when I had been injured.

  Black curls dangling around his face, he brushed my cheek once more, watching his finger’s action. “It’s perfect.” And his lips gently brushed mine once more, in what appeared to be a spur-of-the-moment gesture, before I quickly, and quietly, exited from the bathroom after warning him of the dangers of the screen.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  After two weeks of my three week stint of recovery in the hotel suite, even I was antsy and grumpy, but it didn’t explain Cain’s and Brann’s nervousness. It was late one evening after eating dinner in the room—our usual until I was healed, and watching a comedy my King had run to the market and bough—one of the many movies he had purchased to fill our time. I tried not to stare, but Brann continued to jump from his chair, going onto the balcony, standing there for long stretches before coming back inside calmly, and sitting for a half hour. Cain wasn’t as bad, but his foot continued to tap next to mine on the ground with an absent hand running through his curls every once in a while. I had been noticing subtle gestures like these for the past few days, but tonight was probably the worst it had been.

  Lips pinched, I watched as Brann came back inside, sitting heavily on a chair, rolling his head on his shoulders before focusing on the television, even as Cain swiped his hand through his curls again, and in complete exasperation, and possibly, a smidge of worry, I blurted loudly into the darkened room, “What the hell is going on with you two?”

  All eyes found mine.

  I blinked slowly, and then flicked a finger between Brann and Cain. “What’s going on? Has there been news that I don’t know of?” A finger flick to the balcony. “Is there some type of incursion headed our way?”

  Brann’s head fell back with a groan, staring at the ceiling. “I could only wish.”

  Worried, and confused, my gaze bounced to Cain. “Explain, please.”

  Navy blue eyes blinked slowly. “I thought we were handling it well.” A flicked glance to Brann, then back to me. “To a certain degree, anyway.”

  Elder Bridges grunted, placing a fist in front of his mouth, quickly turning his gaze back to the projected movie when Cain instantly glared at him.

  I moved along, wanting answers. “Whatever this is, you’re not as bad as Brann, but I still don’t understand.”

  Brann startled me by jumping to his feet, shaking his hands, muscles bulging, damn near bellowing, “We’re fucking Shifters, Caro!” A jammed finger at Cain, even as he yelled at me, face abruptly red in rage, “And I don’t have his goddamn experience handling this fucking torture.”

  Gaze wide; I didn’t make any fast moves, staying quiet because he had a wild—not controlled, animalistic look in his gaze.

  Cain was instantly on his feet, the room silent at Brann’s outburst. Cain’s bare feet were deathly quiet as they ate up the white carpeting of the room, power pulsing off his body…what felt almost like soothing Shifter magic. He grabbed Brann’s face, holding it steadfast, a quiet growl reverberating in the air as he locked gazes with him. Brann trembled the barest bit, inhaling heavily, trying to shove away from Cain, gritting through his teeth, “I don’t need your help. I’m not going to lose it.”

  Cain only shoved him against the wall when Brann did, in fact, lose it. He grabbed the fist that swung at his head, slamming it against the wall…making a nice hole there in the plaster, shoving one forearm against his throat, Cain’s wolf growling loudly, but his tone was steady when he murmured quietly, “You don’t want the fucking help, then I’m giving you a damn order.” He immediately shoved Brann again when he tried to escape the hold, more plaster and paint falling, while I stared with saucer eyes, jaw gaping, not breathing. In the blink of an eye, I felt Cain’s power fluctuate differently, more pressing soothing magic floating forcefully throughout the room, before it altered…and seemed to aim directly at Brann, making him jerk on a groan, and Cain ordered quietly, “Shift. Now.”

  Jaw clenched, spewed words between his teeth. “Fuck. You.”

  Cain shook his head ever so slightly, his voice half wolf. “Wrong answer, pup.” My eyes enlarged even more so when Cain stepped back from the enraged Brann, only to tap his forehead with one finger…

  …And instant wolf Brann.

  And while Brann might be smaller than Cain’s wolf—only by a bit, his fur straight black, eyes glowing amber, it was still a shock to see.

  Brann growled furiously, snarling up at Cain, shaking off his shredded clothes.

  Cain’s wolf only huffed quietly as he bent to place his face directly in front of Brann’s wolf’s snout, stating quietly, “Stop it.” Instantly, I felt that soothing magic floating through the air again, and Cain lifted his hands, ruffling Brann’s fur. “Go lie down outside on the balcony.”

  Brann growled once more, shaking his head out of Cain’s hold, but when he moved, he rubbed his flank on Cain’s leg in a sign of affection…and I froze when he started to move by me, but instead altered, jumping so his paws were on the back of the couch on either side of my shoulders. My King even jerked on the other side of me, like I did…because Brann was fucking scary as hell…placing his hand instantly on Brann’s throat, his hand glowing like blue ice, even though Cain didn’t move to stop Brann, standing behind him. Brann only tilted his head to my King, huffing once before he turned his attention back to me…and I swear he smiled. It wasn’t a smile I could truly appreciate with all those sharp teeth, but I understood now, so I stated on a quiet, even voice, “You should have told me you were having issues.”

  His nose wiggled.

  “He’ll be fine now.” Cain grabbed the back of his neck, yanking on his ruff. “That’s enough apologies, Brann.”

  Brann growled a little, and ducked his enormous head, bopping me under the chin with his snout before pushing off the couch—rocking the damn thing with his weight, letting Cain pull him back, and headed to the balcony…where he howled loudly
once before lying down…peacefully.

  I blinked slowly, and then jammed a finger at Cain. “I’m ordering you to shift before you fucking lose it, too.”

  Red lips lifted subtly, a small cocky grin, as he crossed his arms in front of me. “My control is aged with experience. I can handle the longer stints much better than the pup can.”

  “I’m not saying you can’t.” That much was obvious. I ran a hand through my hair, head tilted back, staring up at him evenly. “But you haven’t shifted since we’ve been here, much less went running. You’ve been cooped up in hotel suites and a hospital room for the last eight weeks, the only relief you’ve gotten was riding a damn horse. I understand why neither of you have left to do what you need, but for you to be as lethal and focused as I need you to be, you need to shift regularly. Way before you both get to this stage where you’re damn fidgety and off balance.” There, that was part of the reason. The other part I wouldn’t mention because I felt damn guilty. I should have realized this, and he only needed to hear the tough reasons, the reasons to make himself stronger, not my weak emotional ones. My jaw set, and I pointed my finger again, waggling it when he didn’t move. “My Lajaks need to be the best, and right now, you’re not at your best because I’ve been ignorant to your needs.” My finger flicked to the Vamps. “They know they need blood, so they’ve made due with what’s here.” Finger back to Cain. “You’re just going to have to do the same. It might just be a hotel room, but shifting will help. And if I’ve been sloppy enough to miss anyone else’s needs,” I glanced at the group, “please let me know.”

  “Actually, you spirits are fairly tasty,” Elder Bridges supplied.

  King Zeller grunted. “Definitely diverse.”

  “Thank you.” I think. Not really worried if I needed to guard my veins while I slept, since they had never asked me to donate, my eyes flicked to Cain, and I waved a hand. “Just do it.”

  One black brow cocked. “I’m fine.”

  My lips pinched. “I’m not arguing with that point, I’m simply stating you will be even better, even more lethal,” lift his ego a little more, “that much more honed and deadly, better able to protect me, that much more intense…after shifting.” My head tilted to the Vamps while I held navy blue eyes, putting weakness on others. “How do you think they would be without blood?” Everyone knew the fighters of our Mystical world were the Vampires and the Shifters, but it didn’t come without some weakness, which I was sure they hated, whereas, Elementals and Mages were more well-balanced, but not as physically resilient. “It can’t hurt to be at the top of your game, right?”