MacLean glared at Jax. “That’s bullshit. Since when do the gargoyles let three of their own be taken?”
I saw a flicker of surprise in Jax’s eyes.
“Look, Mr. Douglas, I’m sorry you’re missing these…souls, but I have no idea what you’re talking about.” And for once, I was thankful for my ignorance. “I’m happy to cooperate, but I don’t have any information, and I don’t think I can be much help.”
“I disagree.” MacLean threw one last glare at Jax before shifting his attention to me. “I think you know exactly where they are. In fact, I think you’re the one taking them.”
Thank God I had my hand on Jax’s arm. His muscles jumped, and he would have stood if I hadn’t said, “Jax, no.”
I deferred to Teryl, who knew exactly what I had and had not been “taking,” to put it nicely. “Do you have any idea what he’s talking about?”
Teryl’s jaw worked for a moment. “The souls he’s referring to are the strongest, most pure of each line. Only a handful come along each century. They don’t necessarily come from a powerful family. It’s a fluke, really. But they’re valued from the moment their fates are read. When they pass, their…” He stopped and struggled for a word. “Their essence, their soul, remains. Each line preserves the souls.”
“Like embalming?” The idea was repugnant. I wrinkled my nose at MacLean. “That’s disgusting. Why would I want something like that?”
“No, not embalming,” Teryl replied. He ran his finger along a seam between the bricks that made up the break room wall, mentally running through his explanation. “It’s not a mummification process. Their bodies are gone, but the core of their power, their magic, remains.”
“So, what…you bottle it up? I can just imagine what kind of scent that would have. Better put it in the freezer.”
“This isn’t a joke.” MacLean’s eyes were flashing fire again. “If they fall into the wrong hands, it will be catastrophic.”
“Better light up the bat signal, because I’m fresh out of souls, in any form.” I pushed away from the table and stomped over to the coffee maker.
“The souls are housed in power objects,” Teryl said.
I didn’t look at him, but I was listening. I dumped my cold coffee out, then poured myself a fresh cup and set the steaming mug on the counter.
“The fae collect the souls, and bind them to a power object, like a ring or book or even a building, though that’s rare. The soul is then handed over or assigned to the keeper of the line for protection.”
The coffee suddenly smelled nauseating. “The fae? Now there are fairies, too?”
Jax took over. “They are not what you read in modern fiction. They are bound to the earth and have simple earth magic. The fae are contracted to collect the souls for protection. Otherwise, they keep to themselves.”
I massaged the back of my neck, and took a sip of my not-so-appealing coffee.
MacLean looked confused. “You really don’t know what we’re talking about?”
I glared at him over the rim of my mug.
“We believe Jedren altered her memories,” Jax said.
Jedren? Jax expected the new guy to know my father by name?
MacLean was silent for a long time, and I watched as his expression changed from confusion to disbelief to fury. “Well, that explains a lot.”
Something about his tone bothered me. “What do you mean?”
He smiled stiffly. “Here I thought you were pretending not to remember me.”
My stomach sank further. “Remember you? Have we met?”
He looked me square in the eyes and drove the final nail in the coffin. “We were engaged.”
Chapter Four
Have you ever experienced that strange buzzing noise in your head when you get the shock of your life? Your limbs go numb, and your brain turns to mush. All you can think is, “What just happened?” You know you won’t comprehend the answer, but you ask.
I was getting used to those sensations, but they still scared me.
MacLean and I had been engaged? He didn’t seem like the kind of guy to joke about something like that, but I was still waiting for the punch line. Praying for it, more like.
“Engaged,” I repeated, and my mouth struggled to form the word. I tried to imagine wedded bliss with a man I’d swear I’d never met. I set the coffee cup on the counter to keep from dropping it.
His hair had taken an auburn shade in the light of the break room. His eyes crinkled in the corners in that attractive way that means a person smiles a lot. He was tall and well built. Not as muscular as Jax, but he had a long, lean form. I would definitely use the words “attractive” and “sexy” to describe him. But he didn’t have black hair. Or silver eyes.
He wasn’t Jax.
Which made me even more nervous. When had I started using Jax as my basis for comparison?
“I think you were five when the papers were signed,” MacLean explained.
“Five?” I gaped at him.
He laughed. “It’s not as bad as it sounds. It’s a common practice in our world.”
Our world. I frowned, realizing how much I had to learn. Or rather, how much I had to remember. Still, elves or not, I thought the human rules here had merit. “When the child involved is only five, it sounds bad, no matter what world you live in.”
“Our fathers wanted to have peace between our lines. The shadow elves and phoenix were not at war, but there was tension. It would have been a welcome alliance.”
I wasn’t buying it. “So we were the bargaining chips? How old were you?”
MacLean shrugged. “I was ten, almost eleven. You were five. It wasn’t a big deal.” His eyes glittered at me. “Now, it’s a very big deal. I won’t have my future mate accused of theft.”
Jax’s chair clattered to the floor as he jumped to his feet. His eyes were bright, eerie silver. As he glared at MacLean, his face was shifting from stone to flesh and back again.
Uh-oh.
I couldn’t look away. This was Jax as a gargoyle. His stone form was the most breathtaking, scary thing I’d ever seen. His hands were clenched at his sides, his wings were tucked behind him, and his shirt was gone. My gaze dropped, along with my stomach.
The ragged remains of his shirt were piled on the floor in a heap. He’d torn it off faster than my eyes could follow the action.
Heat coursed through me, and my mouth went dry. I bit my lip. I had an audience, and this was a bad time to ogle Jax. Somehow, I managed to tear my gaze away and settle on Jax’s face. His skin, warm flesh moments ago, was now a cool-toned, gray stone. His face was slightly different. The planes and angles were sharp, though no less gorgeous. Two small horns sat above his forehead. His jaw and chin were more defined. All sharp edges. His lips were drawn back in a silent snarl, and his gaze never wavered from MacLean. My lust cooled as I took in his expression. The Jax I knew was gone. This Jax was furious.
The silence was heavy, and my nerves were stretched tight.
“Jax?” I whispered. He ignored me. His attention was solely on MacLean.
“Phoenix,” he said, in a deep growl that reverberated in the tiny room, “she is claimed.”
Whoa, wait. Claimed?
I hoped he didn’t mean what I think he did. I looked back at MacLean, who, unlike Jax, was giving me his full attention.
MacLean stood in a steady, controlled movement, keeping his eyes locked on Jax.
Jax shifted onto the balls of his feet, as if preparing to launch at MacLean. Every muscle in his body strained against the invisible string of his control. Jax had always been so laid back. I really didn’t want to see him snap. I wanted to run, but my feet wouldn’t move.
I braced myself as MacLean stood and took a single step toward me. Fear curled in my stomach. I prayed Jax would stay put. But MacLean simply held out his arm to me and smiled, a wicked light dancing in his eyes. “Turn me to fire.”
A sense of déjà-vu swept over me. I couldn’t quite suppress my groan. Th
is had bad idea stamped all over it. I wanted out of this room.
Teryl must have had the same thoughts, because he was pretty much cowering in his chair.
“Teryl, a little help here,” I whispered.
“Damn. Sorry.” He jumped up and put a restraining hand on Jax’s shoulder. His knuckles were white.
“Teryl?” My voice cracked, and I nervously cleared my throat. Looking at Teryl’s hand against the stone, I had doubts about whether or not he could hold Jax back.
“Try the fire thing, Elle. I’ll explain later.” Teryl’s voice was strained as he labored to keep Jax in place.
MacLean had a nice arm. Solid and strong. But I wanted to touch it about as much as I wanted to go hug a python.
“I…ah…don’t think that’s a good idea.” I knew it wasn’t a good idea. Just as I knew Jax was about to do something I did not want to see. “No blood in my shop, remember?”
MacLean leaned toward me, smiling, and I stumbled back against the small counter. “I’m a phoenix. It won’t hurt me.”
A nervous laugh escaped before I could stop it. “I’m not worried about hurting you. I’m worried that Jax will.”
MacLean’s smile grew wider. “Turn me to fire,” he prompted again.
I peeked over his shoulder and saw Teryl nod stiffly at me. MacLean’s arm was inches away from me. I took a deep breath and put my hands on him before I could chicken out.
His scent curled around me, and I remembered.
The housekeeping closet was small and dark. I huddled in the corner and tried to make myself as small as possible. I clenched my teeth to keep them from chattering. Was this what shock felt like? Or maybe it was fear. I could hear voices moving past, but they weren’t the voices I strained to hear.
If I could just get a few hours to heal…
Father’s employees knew this was one of my hiding spots. The housekeeper kept my secret. I knew she pitied me. They all did. Poor Elleodora, tainted with human blood.
I was an abomination. Luke and Father told me that every time I came. And this was the last time I would ever visit this hell.
I shifted to a more upright position, and hissed when my back brushed against the shelves. A whimper rolled through me as I tried to fight the waves of pain.
Luke.
The name sent icy shards of fear through my soul. The older I got, the worse the torture got. I would never forget the maniacal, giddy look in his eyes tonight. It was sick. He was twisted and evil. I wished I had never been born. Anything to escape him.
Minutes, or maybe hours, passed. I couldn’t tell. My breath grew less labored, and the pain dulled to an angry roar. My injuries would heal, but the memories would leave scars.
I shuddered. The small movement sent relentless needles of pain through my body. Stars exploded in my head as I bit down on my fist to keep from screaming. Luke had never done this much damage before. I didn’t know how I’d hide this from my mom. Bitterness and pain had me scrunching my eyes shut. I didn’t even know how I would make it to my room.
I couldn’t hide forever. We had guests tonight, and it would get much, much worse if I didn’t show up for dinner.
I convinced myself he wouldn’t have Luke do anything before the guests arrived. If I could just get to my room, I’d be okay. I barely had the energy to open the door and stumble into the hall.
If I could just make it to my room…I repeated the refrain over and over in my head, hoping it would give me strength.
I was staring at the floor, using the base molding as a guide, when I stumbled into someone. Warm arms closed around me, and I shrieked against the cotton-covered chest.
“Shit, sorry!” The arms dropped away.
I had my eyes squeezed shut as I tried to breathe.
“S’okay,” I muttered. I cracked one eye open, and my stomach sank. MacLean. Could this day get any worse? I hated for anyone to see my like this, but MacLean? Now he’d never think I could handle myself. He’d probably ask his dad to let him out of the engagement.
“Elleodora, are you okay?” His eyes flickered with concern. Normally, my sixteen-year-old heart stuttered to a stop when he looked at me with those amazing, firelight eyes, but tonight, I was racked with pain. I wanted to disappear.
“Fine.” Even one-word answers were difficult, and I still needed to make it to my room. I didn’t want to drop in front of him.
MacLean eyed me, obviously skeptical. “You’re hurt.” Before I could say anything, he stepped around me. I heard his sharp inhale.
My humiliation was complete. One more person to pity me. “Don’t.” The word was thick and heavy on my tongue. My eyes welled with tears.
“Where’s your room?” His voice was tight. I turned my head gingerly, and noticed his eyes were pure fire. Not a good sign.
“Mac…”
“Where’s your room?” he repeated. “I’m going to take you to your room.”
I didn’t have the energy to argue. “Second floor, third door on the right.”
Without another word, he offered me his arm and I leaned on him. Halfway up the stairs, I was grateful for his help. I would have fallen and stayed down if he hadn’t been there. He couldn’t carry me; my injuries were too bad. But he let me lean on him. That was enough.
I was dimly aware of his scent. Slightly spicy, it teased my nose. It reminded me of a crackling fire and the wild outdoors. It was masculine and delicious. I closed my eyes and let him guide me, step by step, to my room.
We made it without seeing a single soul. Miraculous, in a household as large and well staffed as my father’s. MacLean led me to the small loveseat by the window. I sat cautiously, careful not to let my back touch the cushions. A small sigh escaped when the pain stayed at its dull roar. Maybe it wouldn’t take as long to heal as I’d feared.
MacLean knelt in front of me, and I offered a weak smile. “Thanks.”
He didn’t say anything. I was happy not to see any pity in his eyes, but I didn’t like the anger there.
Twenty-one seemed so old and worldly, but his classic, aristocratic features had always made my heart beat faster. If my father didn’t need an alliance with his so badly, he probably wouldn’t have looked twice at me. But I didn’t care.
He was looking at me now.
“What happened?”
I shook my head. If I told him, both of our lives were at risk. My voice came out husky and rough with pain. “I was disobedient.”
“I don’t think…” He stopped when I looked at him. He must have seen my silent plea. I wanted him to let it go. It would be best. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed, frustration evident in the set of his jaw.
“Thanks,” I whispered.
He stood, and his hand gently cupped my cheek. Shock held me still. I had dreamed of MacLean looking at me like this. The silly dreams of a young girl. I had practiced writing my name. Elleodora Douglas. I’d thought it had a beautiful ring to it.
MacLean leaned close, and pressed his lips against mine. They were soft and warm. Pleasure bubbled through me as he pressed another soft kiss to my cheek, and then pulled back.
My first kiss. With MacLean Douglas. And he’d smelled so wonderful…
His scent.
Oh, my God. That warm, fiery scent. I’d recreated it, here in the shop. It had been my first success, and one of my all-time favorites. I had created an entire line of men’s products, and it was all due to MacLean. How could I have forgotten my first kiss? And with my first crush?
I struggled to pull up the other memories I knew were there. A sharp pain in my head made me wince. I was nervous to know what other memories were locked away. How much had my father stolen from me?
Teryl’s voice penetrated my thoughts, the urgency jarring me back to the present. “Elle! It’s a bad time for you to check out.”
Right. Flame, MacLean, and an angry gargoyle. I could walk the slippery slope of memories later.
I was still touching MacLean. It was only an arm. MacLean had g
iven me permission, so obviously he wasn’t worried. All I had to do was turn him to fire, something he was no doubt used to, being a phoenix.
“Will you set off the smoke alarms?”
MacLean threw his head back and laughed. “No, just imagine me as a flame. I promise not to set anything on fire.”
I’d have to take him at his word. With trepidation, I closed my eyes and imagined a simple flame beneath my hands. No sooner had the thought formed in my mind when a flare of heat coursed through me. I yelped in surprise, jerking my hands back.
I stared in horror at the pile of ash on the floor. A person-sized amount of ash in the middle of crumpled clothes. Ash coated my hands. And MacLean was nowhere to be seen. I began to shake.
I’d killed my first crush.
Blackness swallowed me as I sank to the floor.
§
The yelling roused me to full consciousness. Someone had propped me against the counter and I was slumped to one side. I lifted my chin off my chest, and tried to process the scene in front of me.
Teryl was standing between Jax and MacLean, a hand on each man’s chest. “You stupid ass. Back off.”
I didn’t know whom he was yelling at, but neither man seemed to hear him. Jax’s eyes were glowing, a pure, brilliant silver. One hand was raised and I saw…were those claws?
“Stop! Oh please stop. Not here, not in my shop,” I started babbling. I was still sitting on the floor, but I waved my hands in an effort to get their attention. “No blood. Not here. I just killed MacLean.”
“You didn’t kill me,” MacLean said, but his voice sounded odd.
I blinked at him. He was standing there, not dead, though he did look a little mussed. His hair stood out in a few places. He had just finished buttoning a pair of khaki slacks, not the pair he’d walked in wearing. The pissed-off phoenix was scary and amazing, much like the gargoyle. A thin layer of fire made it look like the skin on his smooth, bare chest was glowing so hot, he would burst into a huge flame at any moment. Tiny flames flickered along the tops of his shoulders. He also had wings. Big, feathered, brilliantly colored wings that were also coated in a layer of fire.
I didn’t see any ash on the floor. I turned my hands over and saw that they were clean. My mouth opened, but no sound came out.
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