by Tracy Wolff
Sure, the tally currently looks something like this: Grace 7, Hudson 7 million, but I’ll take the win.
At least until I remember that I’ve got something to ask him.
“Oh, hey. I’ve been meaning to ask. Now that we’re actually working on the spell to get you out of my head… Where did you put the werewolf canine and the athame?”
“Top shelf in your closet. In a bag, far right.”
“Up there? Why would you hide them there?”
“Because I didn’t want you to find them somewhere and totally freak out before you knew where they came from.”
“Good call,” I admit grudgingly.
I keep painting, ignoring Hudson’s objections. I’m still not sure what I’m painting yet, but I know that there’s a compulsion inside me to get it on canvas. Part of me wonders if it’s a memory from those four months I was trapped in gargoyle form, if it’s something important that I don’t remember. But another part of me figures that’s just wishful thinking. That I’m so desperate to regain that piece of my life that I’m seeing portents of good things, even if they don’t actually exist.
Delusional much, Grace? Why, yes, I am. I step back and look at what I’ve done so far.
The background is complete, and looking at it feels strange because it’s unfamiliar but also good—because something deep down inside me is whispering that I’ve gotten it just right.
And to be clear, that something isn’t Hudson. It’s deeper, more primal, and I keep hoping if I paint enough, it will unlock everything else.
I’m cleaning the black off my brush, thinking about what comes next, when a text hits my phone. My hands are covered in paint and I almost don’t get it, but I change my mind at the last second.
And then gasp when I see the text is from Jaxon—and that I’m nearly an hour and a half late for our date.
41
Turns Out the Devil
Wears Armani
Unfortunately, there’s a whole a string of texts from Jaxon—several from six thirty, one from seven o’clock, and then three that just came in.
Jaxon: Running late? I’ve got a table set up at the back of the library, near the study rooms
Jaxon: Why are vampires like wizards?
Jaxon: Because they’re neck-romancers
Jaxon: Sorry, I couldn’t resist
Jaxon: You okay? Did you fall asleep?
Jaxon: Hey, I’m not sure if you fell asleep or if you’re painting, but I’ve found some interesting stuff
Jaxon: Can you text me when you get the chance, just so I know you’re okay?
Jaxon: Miss you
I feel awful. I can’t believe I forgot to meet him. I was looking forward to seeing him all day, and then I got so wrapped up in my painting that it totally slipped my mind. I tell myself it’s because my brain is on overload and the last thing I want to do is spend a bunch of time trying to figure out how to take on the Unkillable Beast and how not to die. To be fair, it’s a valid argument, but that doesn’t mean I feel any less shitty about not showing up.
“I’m sure baby brother will survive being stood up,” Hudson tells me, and there’s an edge to his voice that wasn’t there just a few minutes ago. “You should keep painting. You’re really on a roll.”
“Despite the fact that I used the wrong black?” I answer, barely paying attention as I fire off a text to Jaxon, apologizing and telling him that I’m coming.
“Sorry to be so particular, but Armani black is a very specific color.” He looks like he swallowed a lemon and it would be funny if I wasn’t in such a hurry.
I shove my phone in my backpack and start cleaning up as fast as I can. Which isn’t nearly fast enough, considering how big of a mess I’ve made mixing paint. “Who said I was even thinking about Armani black?”
“Sorry. I just…” For the first time since I first saw him, he looks totally discombobulated. Like he’s said too much but also not enough. I almost ask him what’s wrong, but then I remind myself that we’re not friends. That he’s just a guy squatting in my brain for a while, and he’s not even a very nice one. I don’t actually owe him anything.
I speed up my cleaning, determined to get to the library before Jaxon totally gives up on me. I expect Hudson to snark the entire time—it is his favorite pastime, after all—but he’s strangely silent after the Armani comment. Which I’m grateful for, because it lets me focus entirely on getting the supplies put away.
I’m just about done when the door to the art room flies open on a gust of wind. Cold air fills the room, and I whirl around, wondering what new threat I’m facing—only to find Jaxon standing there, watching me with a small smile and unfathomable eyes.
“I’m so sorry!” I tell him, rushing forward to greet him as he slams the door closed behind him. “I totally got carried away with my painting and I lost track of time. I didn’t mean to—”
“Hey, don’t worry about it.” He looks me up and down, his smile growing as he takes in my paint-covered artist’s smock. “I like this look.”
I give him the same kind of once-over he just gave me, taking in the frayed jeans and the black designer T-shirt. “The feeling is definitely mutual.”
“Oh yeah?” He wraps me in his arms, and I feel a warmth deep inside me—sexy and comforting and exciting all at the same time. “I’m glad to hear that.”
“You smell good,” I tell him, burying my nose in the bend between his neck and his shoulder for several long seconds. And he does, fresh and bright and so, so amazing.
“Yeah, well, I can say that feeling is mutual, too.” He scrapes a fang across the sensitive skin beneath my ear. “Very, very mutual.”
“Tell me you’re not serious,” Hudson says with a yawn. “Tell me this isn’t the pinnacle of your scintillating conversations.”
Why don’t you take a nap or something, I hiss at him even as I pull away from Jaxon.
“You ready to go?” Jaxon asks.
“Yeah, just give me a minute to get the rest of the supplies put up.” I take off my apron and store it in my cubicle, then finish putting the bottles of paint back in the cabinet.
Five minutes later, we’re walking through the tunnels—tunnels that seem nowhere near as frightening when Jaxon is by my side, talking about what he’s found in his hour-and-a-half search through the library’s magical databases.
“I’ve spent most of tonight trying to identify what the Unkillable Beast is,” he tells me as we make it to the rotunda with the huge bone chandelier hanging from the ceiling. “There are so many different versions throughout the last several hundred years, almost like it’s more fairy tale than real monster, that it’s hard to get a read on what we’ll be facing if we go up there. Except for the fact that almost no one makes it back alive—and those who do can’t agree on what they’ve seen.”
“Is there anything similar in the different accounts?” I ask, focusing on the conversation and not on the fact that I’m about to pass the tunnel where Hudson’s ex-girlfriend tried to murder Jaxon and me. “I mean, besides the ‘everyone gets dead’ thing?”
I think about asking Hudson what he remembers about that night—if anything—but decide it doesn’t matter. Besides, what if he wants to take a field trip to the scene of his reincarnation? Show-and-tell isn’t really my thing, especially not down here.
“I don’t remember anything,” Hudson tells me quietly as he strides alongside us, one hand casually sliding along the stoned and jeweled walls. He’s a few inches ahead, so I can’t really see his face. “I didn’t put her up to it, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
I’m not thinking anything, I answer, though that’s not quite the truth. It’s hard not to be afraid of Hudson when I’m down here, harder still not to be angry with him. Maybe what happened wasn’t his fault, but it’s hard to imagine that he and his persuasive power didn’t have som
e small role to play in the fact that Lia was obsessed with bringing him back.
“The stories do have a few things in common,” Jaxon answers, his arm tightening around me as if he senses my disquiet.
Which only makes me feel worse about being such a baby, so I swallow the lingering fear. I shove it down deep inside me and concentrate instead on something I do have the power to change. “Like what? Have you figured out exactly how to find it yet?”
I remember him saying in the caves that the Beast is somewhere near the North Pole. Though I don’t see why he couldn’t have a nice summer home somewhere in Greece or Egypt, L.A. or Miami? Anywhere that has warm weather and a beach would be good with me right now, because after that trip to the Bloodletter’s, I am ready to get away from the snow for a while.
“That’s actually the one thing every account agrees on,” Jaxon tells me. “The Unkillable Beast lives somewhere near the Arctic Circle. Seems everyone is happy to share approximately where to find it—just so you can plan a trip avoiding it at all costs.”
“I’m with them,” I tell him, making a face. “Taking on the North Pole sounds hellish enough without also taking on a monster that can’t be killed. Are we sure it doesn’t spend March in Tahiti?”
Jaxon looks confused at first, but then he gets it. “I’m sorry. When this is all done and we’ve graduated from Katmere, I’ll take you someplace warm and sunny, I promise.”
“I’m going to hold you to that promise,” I tell him. “I cannot spend every day for the rest of my life in freaking Alaska.”
“Nothing says we have to live in Alaska after graduation. I know you were planning on doing the college thing before your parents died and you ended up here. We can still do that if you want.”
“I don’t know what I want, to be honest.” It sounds bad when I say it like that, especially considering I’m only three months from graduation. But the plan I had before my parents died seems like it belonged to a whole different person.
“What do you want to do?” I ask Jaxon, because I figure any plan I have for the future is going to include my mate.
“I don’t know that I really had a plan for after graduation, to be honest. When you’re immortal, you’ve got a lot more time to think things through.”
“Especially if you’re a prince and have already been alive a couple of centuries.” I make a mental note to ask him later about the whole “vampire aging” thing. I mean, I know he’s centuries old, but I also know he’s only about eighteen in human years. I sincerely hope I’m not dating someone who was in diapers and sucked his thumb for a hundred years.
Hudson snort-laughs, so I know he heard that last thought, but he doesn’t turn around. I can’t help a smile spreading across my face at the image of a twenty-year-old Hudson in said diapers.
This finally gets his attention, and he shoots me a raised eyebrow over one shoulder. “Very kinky, Miss Foster.”
My face turns beet red, but Jaxon doesn’t seem to notice.
“I’m not sure what my plans are, but we have the rest of our lives to sort it out,” Jaxon finally replies and squeezes my shoulder.
We make it out of the tunnels and through the creepy dungeon area, and I feel myself relax the second the cell door clangs closed behind us.
“What else did you learn about this monster?” I ask as we make our way toward the staircase that leads to the library. We pass through the lounge on the main floor, and while a few people turn to stare, it’s a lot less than it was a couple of days ago.
Maybe they really are getting used to having a human/gargoyle around. Now, if I could just get used to the gargoyle portion of that equation myself, I’m pretty sure everything would get a lot easier.
“It’s big. Like, beyond-measure huge. Twenty, thirty stories, some say. And it’s very, very old.”
“Well, that sounds encouraging,” I say, tongue firmly in cheek. “I mean, who doesn’t want to fight a monster who’s been around forever and is the size of a mountain?”
“Right? Although I don’t think it’s quite that big. More like the side of a mountain.”
“Well, that makes it so much better,” I tease as we finally make it to the library. But as Jaxon reaches for the door handle, I realize it’s almost completely dark inside. “Oh no! Did Amka close while you came to get me? I’m so sorry—”
“Relax,” he says with a grin, bending down to drop a quick kiss on my lips. “I’ve got it covered.”
Hudson steps aside as Jaxon opens the door and gestures for me to precede him. But I’m only a few steps into the library’s main room before I realize that I’ve messed up a lot more than an evening study date. I’ve messed up a date date, because sitting in the center of the room is a small, round table covered with a tablecloth, candles, and one of the most gorgeous bouquets of flowers I have ever seen.
“Well, well, well,” Hudson says, sauntering into the room, his hands shoved into his front pockets. “Isn’t this cozy? Tell Jaxon I’m overwhelmed, but he really shouldn’t have.”
42
Ben & Jerry Are the
Only Two Guys I
Want to Fight
Over
“Oh, Jaxon. You didn’t have to do this.” I walk toward the table, feeling more than a little bit fluttery as I take in the candles and the sparkling water on ice and the flowers. The really beautiful flowers. “They’re gorgeous.”
“I’m glad you like them.”
“I love them,” I correct him, burying my face in the white, lavender, and purple blooms. “They smell amazing.” I hold them out to him.
“I smelled them when I picked them out,” he says. “And it’s not that big a deal.”
I melt all over at his words, because it’s a huge deal for so many reasons.
One, he went through the trouble of organizing a dinner like this for me because he thought I would like it.
Two, he went through the trouble of finding flowers in the middle of Alaska and picked them out himself.
Three, he did this even though ours is the first real relationship he’s ever had—the first time he’s allowed himself to feel in more than a hundred years. How could I not fall for Jaxon when he reminds me, over and over again, just what good care he will take of me?
“They’re flowers, not a trip to Paris,” Hudson says as he grabs a book off the circulation desk and thumbs through the pages. There’s such annoyance in his movements that I totally ignore him. The night is young. There’s more than enough time for him to rain on my parade before I have to go back to my room.
“It’s a huge deal,” I answer them both, wrapping my arms around Jaxon’s waist and squeezing him tightly. “And I’m so sorry I forgot. I feel awful.”
“Don’t.” He gives me a soft smile as he brushes a curl back from my face. “You’ve had a rough few days. And there’s a microwave next to Amka’s desk. Your dinner is easy to reheat if we need to.”
“What did you get me?” I ask, my suddenly growling stomach a reminder that I’ve had very little to eat today.
Jaxon laughs at the rumble. “Come on, let’s get you seated and you can find out.”
He escorts me to the table, and I realize he’s done more than just candles and flowers. He’s gotten me street tacos in the middle of Alaska that look just like the ones from my favorite taqueria in San Diego. “How did you do this?”
“I can’t tell you all my secrets,” he answers with a grin.
“Yeah, but you definitely have to tell me this secret.” I pick one up and take a bite, relishing the way the familiar flavor explodes in my mouth. “I’m going to have to get these again soon.” I take another bite, so excited about this little taste of home that I’m not even pretending to have any restraint.
“Or you could keep me around, and I could get them for you anytime you want,” Jaxon suggests as he settles down next to me.
&n
bsp; “Yeah, I could totally do that.” We grin into each other’s eyes for long seconds, my breath catching in my chest for all the right reasons this time—at least until Hudson walks over and interrupts with a disbelieving laugh.
“Meat? My brother got you meat as a gift?” He snorts as soon as Jaxon gets up to turn on some music.
I glare at Hudson and whisper-shout, “They’re not meat. They’re tacos. And—”
“Which are made up of meat, am I correct?” He starts circling the table like an attorney hell-bent on cross-examination. He even looks the part in his flawless dress shirt and dress pants.
“Okay, yes. But there’s nothing wrong with that. I love tacos.” I deliberately turn away from Hudson and back to Jaxon, who is fiddling with his iPhone.
“And I love human blood. Doesn’t mean I want it as a present.” Hudson comes close now, bracing his hands on the back of my chair and leaning down so that he’s all but whispering in my ear when he continues. “But it’s good that you have such low expectations. You’re going to need them with Jaxy-Waxy.”
“Will you stop calling him that?” It takes every ounce of willpower I have not to whirl around and shout at him—but apparently that’s exactly what he wants, so I refuse to bite. Instead, I swallow back the string of sharp retorts I want to throw at him and focus as much attention as I can muster on Jaxon instead.
He finally settles on Savage Garden’s “I Knew I Loved You,” and my heart stutters in my chest, even before he turns and gives me a look that makes me feel all kinds of delicious things.
The look in his eyes tells me he knows exactly what I’m feeling…and he likes it. A lot.
“You’re going to have to tell me where you got these,” I say to Jaxon when he makes it back to the table. I take another bite of the taco Hudson is working overtime trying to ruin for me. After I’ve swallowed, I continue. “I’m going to need them again, like, tomorrow.”
“I could probably arrange that.”
