Right now, he was subdued and quiet as he revealed the types of oracles. The normal spark in his eyes was gone. He seemed a little lost. The words coming out of his mouth were a far cry from his usual jokes and devil-may-care persona.
What he was describing seemed surreal. I tried to wrap my brain around the last skill he’d mentioned. “Read fates? Sort of like the Greek Fates and the threads of life?”
He shook his head slowly, and folded his arms as he looked up from the spot on the floor that had held his gaze. “Not quite. When one of us is born,” he gestured to each of us, “our fate is read and recorded at birth.”
“It’s a summary of your life and potential,” Jax added.
Okay, that still didn’t tell me much. “So, only oracles get to read these?”
“No, the fates are sealed until the recipient is old enough or the family decides they’re ready. Most of us get ours by the time we hit double digits.” Teryl shrugged. “But it’s really up to your parents or guardian. It’s a personal thing, so it doesn’t come up in regular conversation. They’re not known to anyone but you and anyone you choose to tell.”
Jax answered my unspoken question. “Your father would have yours or know where it is. As would the oracle who read it.”
“You both have yours?”
The men nodded. Teryl put his glass down on the coffee table and sat in my favorite chair. “You could say it’s a rite of passage. For humans, it’s a big deal to turn sixteen to drive, eighteen to graduate, and twenty-one to drink. For us, it’s a big deal to be deemed ready and worthy to know your fate.”
Now I was confused. If I was part of this, where was my fate? Better yet, why was all of this news to me?
“Why didn’t I get mine?” At twenty-seven, I had a feeling I was behind the curve with this one.
“That’s a good question,” Jax answered, his face pensive. “What would Warlow have to gain by keeping it from you? I’ve never heard of anyone not receiving one.”
If my father had it, I wasn’t about to go ask him about it. The last time I’d seen him had been at my mother’s funeral, when I’d accused him of murder. The smug bastard had smiled and tried to placate me in front of the horrified guests. A phone call or visit with him was out of the question.
Teryl drummed his fingers against his thighs. “If we knew the oracle who read your fate, we could track it down. Each oracle keeps a record of the fates they read. It goes into the Library of Shadows.”
I held up a hand. “Okay, wait a second. Let’s deal with one issue at a time. I don’t need to hear about secret libraries, the intricacies of the different types of oracles, and who was on the grassy knoll.”
Teryl shot me an irritated look, one I’d never seen before my father had moved Clio across the ocean. It was one I’d been getting used to seeing more and more often. “I was answering your questions.”
“I know.” I rubbed my brow and took a deep breath. “This is a lot to take in at one time, so let’s get back to the first topic.” I turned to Jax. “You flew us off the ledge tonight. We weren’t seen because you said I shadowed. What does that mean?”
“It is a trait of the shadow elves. You become the shadows, and because I was holding you, you made me become the shadows, too.”
The headache I had was starting to make my eyes hurt. “Become the shadows? Like a mist?”
“Sort of,” Teryl answered for him. “The more powerful the shadow elf, the better they are. Your father can move into the shadows and disappear. Lesser shadow elves can blend into the background a bit, but not disappear. Most shadow elves fall somewhere in the middle.” He directed his next question to Jax. “What did Elle do?”
“She is Jedren Warlow’s daughter.”
“Damn,” Teryl swore softly and went back to pacing.
Tension crept across my shoulders. “I thought we were past the vague comments already.”
“Your father is the only shadow elf alive who can disappear for a few minutes at a time. Most are limited to seconds or up to a minute, max. It’s a temporary state because it drains their energy quickly.” Teryl got more upset with each word. “Jax, how long was it?”
Jax was staring at me. “Four minutes. Possibly five.”
Teryl’s mouth opened but no words came out. It was never a good sign when he was shocked into silence.
Waving a hand at them, I laughed, but it sounded hollow, even to my ears. “Oh, please. It can’t be that big of a deal.”
“Your father’s known limit is five minutes, and it leaves him incapacitated for hours.”
“I don’t feel well now. Does that count? You could even say I feel downright sick.”
Teryl stood up and began pacing. “He means Jedren can’t move afterward. Shadowing drains a shadow elf of their energy. The original purpose was a defense mechanism. But that was centuries ago. All of the family lines, from oracles to shadow elves, have suffered a dilution of power. Your father is no exception.”
“But Elle appears to be.” Jax’s soft proclamation sounded ominous.
I didn’t want to be the exception. I wanted to be a run of the mill sort of woman. Minus my side gig as catsuit-wearing Robin Hood wannabe.
I tugged at one sleeve of the catsuit, suddenly remembering how uncomfortable it was. I wanted to move through a few yoga poses to ease my tension, but couldn’t do it in this outfit. “That’s all the intrigue I can handle for one night. I am exhausted, exception or not. I would love to sleep on this, and we can talk about it in the morning. The shop is closed, so we can have coffee and quiet.”
“I’ll bring food,” Teryl offered. One of the reasons he was my best friend was because he could always tell when I needed my space, and he respected it.
“Good idea. Is that okay with you, Jax?” His wings were gone, and he’d put his shirt back on. I was tired, but not so tired that I didn’t feel a twinge of disappointment. “Can we finish this conversation tomorrow?”
His smile was slow. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Oh, that sounded promising and scary, all at the same time. And there was no way was I going to take that bait tonight. I really didn’t have the energy.
I waved good-bye to them and walked into my bedroom. They could let themselves out or stay. I didn’t care, as long as I could peel off this leather, stash the gemstones, shower, and then sleep in peace. Maybe, just maybe, all of this would look better in the morning.
My sanity was counting on it.
Chapter Three
Morning came too soon. I’d managed to fall asleep quickly, considering the shock and drama of last night. But as I staggered out of the shower and began putting myself together, the mirror wasn’t reassuring.
Although my hair is nearly black, I have fair skin and big, blue eyes. They are my favorite feature, mostly because I’ve inherited them from my mom. On her, they’d been sky blue and as innocent as the day was long. On me, their expression is usually far more guarded. Today, they looked haunted. Or hunted. My skin was a little more pale than normal, and the dark circles under my eyes weren’t going to win me any beauty contests.
Sighing, I decided to skip the make-up, as usual, even though I could have really used it today. As long as I didn’t make young children scream and run away, I would manage. My looks mattered little compared to my newfound knowledge that not only weren’t humans the only game in town, but I might not even be on their team.
Yesterday had been unexpected and unpleasant, with the exception of one very sexy stone man. However, he wasn’t enough to wipe away the feelings of bitterness and frustration. Despite what they say, ignorance is not bliss. It’s awful.
In the span of a few short hours, I’d made a number of alarming discoveries. My employee is a gargoyle. My best friend is an oracle. My father is a bigger monster than I’d already known. My childhood torturer is hunting me. My true nature is something I’ve never heard of, and I still don’t know half of the story.
That was enough to make a girl cranky. I
n an attempt to ease the tension forming, I closed my eyes and practiced the deep breathing my yoga teacher always taught at the end of class. There had to be a good reason for twenty-seven years of everyone else’s deception. I had to give them the benefit of the doubt. I trusted Teryl, so that was easy. Jax was a big, sexy unknown for me. Since he’d only been in my life a couple of months, he got the benefit of the doubt by default.
Today, I had a lot of questions and hopefully the guys would have more answers. Except…maybe I shouldn’t be too hasty. Answers would be good, but I preferred not to have any more demonstrations. I didn’t think I could cope today if one of them grew an extra head.
Still, I was supposed to meet them at my organic bath product shop. I grabbed my favorite knit jacket from the closet on my way out the front door. I locked my apartment and trudged downstairs, which pretty much covered my entire morning commute.
I’ve lived in Seattle my whole life. I love the rain and the lush greenery that results. I love the people, the diversity, and the eclectic offerings of my city. With no desire to put down roots anywhere else, I’d opened my own business here.
After unlocking the door to my shop, I stepped inside and flipped on the lights. An assortment of delicious smells wrapped around me. A hint of vanilla, a sprig of lavender, a pinch of cinnamon, a trace of fresh fruit.
This was home.
I couldn’t help smiling. This was my happy place, my security blanket, and my labor of love, wrapped into one. Rain streaked along the window.
In the months since my mother’s death, I’ve spent countless hours mixing, blending, crafting, and packaging my creations. Being able to work in my shop has meant more than ever. The escape it provides has been a source of comfort and healing. Some of my blends are charming accidents. Others are the result of hours of trial and error and precise measurements. Hand lotion and massage oil. Shampoo and body wash. I love them all.
I have a thing for being clean and sweet-smelling. I’m sure a therapist would have a heyday exploring my need for cleanliness. But when you’ve experienced the depravity of my father and his kind, you just can’t bathe yourself enough. How do you scrub your memories, heart, and soul clean? I don’t know the answer, but I damn sure try.
Emmaline’s opened three years ago, named in my mother’s honor. She’d laughed and cried when I’d brought her here for the first time. Her smile had lit up the store on opening day. She’d been my first customer and my biggest supporter. My heart clenched with her memory, and my eyes blurred with unshed tears.
God, I miss her.
She was killed eighteen months ago, but it still feels like yesterday. I was the one who’d found her. It had been staged to look like a suicide. The gun, the note, the whole setup was a textbook case. Or so the responding police officers had said. No one had listened when I said she wasn’t suicidal. She wasn’t depressed. There wasn’t a chance in hell she’d shot herself. Always smiling, always beautiful, she had loved life, the good and the bad. You’d have to have been a saint to have loved my father.
Of course, there’d been nothing to prove it was anything other than a suicide. As much as it galls me to admit it, my father isn’t a fool. He’s a cold, calculating bastard. They’d separated when I was three and maintained minimal contact. Memories of brief but civil conversations and a few custody exchanges stick in my mind. She’d always maintained her ladylike demeanor. Not once had she asked him for anything. And he’d killed her. The vicious, heartless bastard…
I sucked in a shaky breath. I didn’t have the energy to follow that train of thought right now. My rage burned through me and left me exhausted every time I let myself go down that path. Today, I was already at my limit.
Ironically, my father gave me the money for the start-up cost for Emmaline’s. He mailed me the deed to the three-story brick building and a check for twenty-five thousand dollars. Inside was a note: Don’t thank me. It’s a tax write-off, and the only thing you’ll get from me.
I’d been thrilled. It meant a shot at independence, and it signaled the end of any involvement with my father. Or so I’d thought. It was the best—and only—gift he’d ever given me. Not to mention, it is now the best cover I can have as I attempt to rob him blind. I really do love my shop, and I love my career. I am a hardworking, small-business owner. But in my father’s eyes, Emmaline’s makes me seem inconsequential. I’m nothing but a bit of fluff who likes to smell essential oils and test hand cream. And that’s a direct quote from the jerk himself, an offhand comment made at my mother’s funeral.
Walking deeper into my shop, I felt my lips curl into a sneer. I had so many negative emotions toward the man, I didn’t know where to start. I forced my face to relax and felt my features smooth out. He wasn’t worth wrinkles or frown lines. I headed to the small break room and flipped on the coffee maker. I pulled out a new filter, coffee, and mugs.
Exposed brick walls and modern, space-efficient fixtures gave the entire shop an industrial chic look. I kept the walls bare, and had my products displayed on reclaimed wood and recycled glass shelves. The break room was small. I kept appliances to a minimum, because it doubled as storage for items I needed to replenish often. The basement housed most of my supplies, but I didn’t like to leave the store unattended during business hours.
The simple ritual of making coffee soothed me almost as much as my shop did. The normalcy was reassuring in the face of so much unknown. The guys would be here any minute, and there was no need for me to start the day off on the wrong foot by skipping coffee. I had a feeling I was going to need the jolt of caffeine.
While the coffee brewed, I did a few quick yoga poses just outside the break room, to loosen up the stiff muscles in my neck and shoulders. I moved through a few sun salutations between shelves of products. I usually went across the street for a class or two a week, but this week, yoga probably wasn’t going to happen.
I’d just finished preparing our cups when I heard the first knock. As I wound my way through the wood and glass display cases, I saw Jax and Teryl standing together on the other side of the glass shop door. I was relieved to see they’d arrived at the same time.
Let’s get this show on the road. I squared my shoulders. I could handle it.
I hoped.
Unlocking the door, I ushered them in. “Hi. Coffee’s ready.”
I took a deep, appreciative inhale of the cardboard box Teryl waved under my nose. The sugary-sweet scent of maple paired perfectly with the yeasty smell of baked goods. My taste buds were already savoring the first bite. “The catsuit is forgiven if that’s from Dana’s Bakery.”
He laughed and kept moving the box. “I wouldn’t go anywhere else. I’m waving the white flag here.” His hair was artfully tousled, and he wore a pair of designer jeans and a multi-colored argyle vest over a dark purple, button-down shirt. Teryl was the only guy I knew who could pull off vivid colors and retain his masculine appeal. The colors were a reflection of his personality: upbeat, fun, and in your face.
I smiled and pretended to punch his arm. I didn’t really blame him for Luke’s arrival on the scene. I’d known my father would call in his favorite dog, sooner or later. “Done. If you ever put me in a catsuit and send me straight to Luke again, I will post pictures of you modeling for my mom.”
My smile grew when he blanched. My mother had been a talented seamstress who specialized in wedding gowns and special occasion dresses. In high school, after Teryl had accidentally broken her favorite dress mannequin, she’d made him step in and be her dummy for a day. As his ever-supportive friend, I’d snuck in and took a number of pictures of him in evening gowns before my mom noticed and took my camera. Thankfully, I’d saved the film and now have blackmail at the ready whenever he gets out of line.
“That will haunt me forever, won’t it?”
“Absolutely. What are best friends for?” I laughed as he pretended to scowl and made his way to the break room.
Which left me alone with Jax. He didn’t say a word, just
stared at me. I smiled to cover my slight unease and rapid heartbeat. “Hey. I’ve got your usual black coffee in the back.”
His eyes flashed silver before his mouth crooked on one side. “Thanks.”
As he walked past me, I couldn’t help but admire the view. His jeans looked like they’d been made specifically for his body. The dark denim molded to his thighs and butt. I bit my lip. His short-sleeved, button-down shirt was loose, and part of me wished he’d turn to stone just so his shirt would come off again.
My first thought this morning had been of his wings and his arm turning to stone. And how very, very appealing I found him. It was a distraction I couldn’t afford on top of the new daddy drama, but oh, what a distraction he was. I’d been secretly drooling over the guy for two months, watching him haul boxes. Now, his drool-worthiness increased tenfold, knowing he turned to stone. A living, breathing work of art.
I must have made a sound, because he turned around and caught me staring at his backside with lust in my eyes.
Although I felt my face warming from embarrassment, I met his gaze. His eyes were pure silver, and he stood very still. A low noise rumbled in his throat, and I nervously cleared mine.
“Ah, okay, let’s go eat, shall we?” I walked back to the break room. The small room seemed smaller with Jax in it. A small counter, cupboards, and a sink lined one wall, and a round table and four chairs sat in the center. Assorted business supplies were stacked in the corner, next to a mini fridge.
I was thankful for Teryl’s presence. To cover my nerves, I grabbed napkins and paper plates, and passed them out before sitting at the table.
Teryl sat at the table and took a tentative sip of his coffee. His eyes closed in satisfaction. “One cream, two sugars. Perfect. Thanks, Elle.”
“Welcome.” I raised my cup and took a sip. I dared to look at Jax, then wished I hadn’t. He was testing his coffee, and I watched his throat work as the hot brew slid down.
Gah. Brain is mush, temperature is rising.
Stone Cold Seduction Page 3