But that’s because this is a show, and that…wasn’t.
And if he thinks he’s the only one who’s confused about where my mind wandered, then he has another thing coming.
I’ve been over it a dozen times, wondering what’s wrong with me.
If I’m going to have those kinds of thoughts about anyone, it should be Rafe. After all, our magic is already kindling them.
What I shouldn’t be doing is having those thoughts about Jonathan, the man I’m spending a romantic weekend with—the man who doesn’t want me but will date any curvy, long-legged college girl who steps in his path. The man who’s becoming the closest thing to an actual friend I’ve had in a long, long time.
And let’s be honest, if I can overlook Jonathan’s slutty, philandering ways, then I might as well go back to Gray.
Guy hiatus, Madeline.
Right. This just proves that I’m not ready to move on. I’m still a mess.
Rodger and Elizabeth stop near us, musing over a sample of cherry wine. Jonathan turns to them, his arm wrapped around my waist, his thumb moving over my thin sweater.
“Found a favorite?” he asks our host and hostess.
Elizabeth swirls the sample in her hand and then takes a delicate sniff. “I liked the Zinfandel,” she says, and then she smiles up at her husband. “But Rodger liked the Cabernet.”
Rodger wrinkles his nose—a funny look on a distinguished man his age. “In truth, I prefer something a little stronger.”
Jonathan gives them a disinterested look and holds up a small sample of the winery’s signature cherry. “I’ve already had fifteen of these, and I’m not even buzzed.”
I purse my lips, trying not to laugh. He plays nonchalant millionaire so well.
I nudge him gently in the ribs. “As I said before, that’s not really the point of the outing.”
He chuckles under his breath, tosses the empty glass with the rest, and tugs me to him. His hand splays across my back, keeping me firmly pressed against his chest. “You entertain yourself the way you like, and I’ll entertain myself the way I like.”
The light smell of his cologne surrounds me. My stomach clenches, and I’m torn between swooning or laughing at the game.
It’s quite the conundrum.
And herein lies my problem. I’m afraid I’m allowing myself to become twitterpated with fake Jonathan—the role Jonathan is playing. The suave, smooth, extremely appealing man who’s holding me in his arms, pretending I’m his entire world.
And what girl alive could blame me? The Griffon looks at me like he desperately wants me, like I’m the only girl he’ll ever look at from this moment on. Add that to the feel of his ring on my finger and our cozy room waiting for us back at the mansion, and you have a recipe for trouble.
It’s intoxicating.
But it’s fake. Just a lie. A really appealing lie.
And we have a job to do—and I’m going to hurry up and do it.
I reluctantly pull myself away from Jonathan. “The police didn’t stay long this morning.”
Rodger cringes, obviously not wanting to speak of it. “There was no need as far as they were concerned. Phillip had a heart attack, and that was that.”
“And what about you?” I ask, lowering my voice, adding a strong dose of persuasion to the words. “What do you think it was? Let’s be honest, there’s a lot of smoke and mirrors behind the scenes—and what an excellent job you’ve done. In fact, Jonathan and I were just saying this morning how this is the classiest haunted getaway we’ve attended. But this feels…real.” I drop my voice even further. “You don’t think there’s an actual ghost, do you?”
Rodger glances at Elizabeth and then turns back to me, my magic affecting him. “People like to be scared—they pay well to be scared. Everyone knows these things are a farce. We hired an electrician to come in, put speakers in the guest rooms and hallways to play the ghost noise recordings and set up dimmers on all the lights, which we’ve set to timers. There are mirrors scattered about the mansion that occasionally show ghoulish images, random decor will suddenly float in the air—that sort of thing. It took a small fortune to install.”
“So are you saying there’s not a ghost?” I ask, bumping up the persuasion to keep the words flowing.
The man glances around. “That’s the concerning part. We only staged the first disappearance—everything that has happened since has been unexplainable.”
He swipes a napkin off the nearest table and dabs his forehead. “And now we’ve had a death.”
Elizabeth looks at her husband, concerned. “We don’t know what to do.”
Here’s a thought—stop inviting guests to your mansion.
“Do you have any idea who’s behind it?” Jonathan asks, though his words lack a certain Foxy appeal.
Rodger frowns at him.
“Well, do you?” I ask.
Elizabeth shakes her head. “We’re beginning to think it’s a real ghost, that we’ve drawn it in with our theatrics—made it angry.”
Her husband nods.
They must be telling the truth—they’re not Aparians, so they can’t block my magic.
“How do you create the storms?” I ask.
Again, the pair shares a glance, then Elizabeth steps forward. “We don’t. They just…happen. They started before the first real disappearance.”
The pair has no idea they have a magic user in their midst.
“I have one more question,” I say, glancing around. When I’m satisfied that no one is near enough to hear me, I turn to Elizabeth. “Are you seducing the men? Coercing them into having an affair with you? After which, you kill them and dispose of their bodies?”
Rodger sucks in a gasp, but I hold up my hand, demanding silence.
“No,” Elizabeth says, horrified, stepping back.
Hmmm. Well, there goes that.
“Forget we had this conversation,” I say, making sure they each meet my eyes. “We talked about wine and vacations in the Hamptons. You like us, trust us, think we’re a nice couple.”
They blink at me, making me feel a little bad. But we’re not going to get anywhere if I don’t help things along.
“Nice chatting with you,” I say, looping my arm through Jonathan’s and tugging him along.
“Tsk, tsk,” he teases when we’re several yards away. “You used a good dollop of magic on those two, didn’t you?”
I turn to him. “Were they lying? Could you tell?”
I’m still not convinced there aren’t more clipeum medallions floating around. Trent the Missing Pixie doesn’t seem clever enough to find something that rare.
He shakes his head. “I can only read truth in Aparians—I watch the way magic shifts and jumps when a person is lying.”
Interesting. “Can you get in their heads if you touch them?”
“Yes.”
“But you can’t tell if they're lying like you can with us?”
“Nope.”
“Can I be honest?” I turn to face him. “That’s a bit inconvenient.”
Jonathan laughs. “Sorry to disappoint you.”
“Have you had enough wine?” I wave to the tables.
He sets his hand on the small of my back, leading me away. “I had enough before we showed up.”
The mansion is nearly empty when we return. Most people are out, enjoying the mild weather, trying to forget about the corpse that was wheeled out under a sheet before dawn.
“I want to find the mirrors Rodger was talking about,” I say, tugging on Jonathan’s sleeve, making him follow me.
“Shouldn’t we find Gray and tell him what we’ve learned?”
I turn, giving him a pleading look. “Come on. Humor me.”
We’re doing better—the awkward tension has dissipated. It’s almost like the moment in the room never happened.
Jonathan runs a hand through his thick hair. He’s torn between responsibility and pleasure. Pleasure finally wins. He nods, following me as I walk the halls.<
br />
“Maybe it only happens after dark,” Jonathan says after we stop at yet another mirror and find only our reflections in the glass.
Voices drift to us from down the hall—two women speaking. One voice is soft and fluttery; the other is rich and seductive.
Olivia and Jenna.
They turn the corner, both startled to find us standing in front of the mirror.
The picture of ease, Jonathan turns toward the women. “We heard a rumor,” he explains, giving them a sheepish shrug.
Jenna smiles at him. Just him. Him alone. “About the mirror?”
He nods.
She gives it a thoughtful look. “People say you can see our ghost in the reflection, but only in the flash of a lightning strike.”
“So not very often,” I deadpan, slightly miffed to be so thoroughly ignored.
Jenna finally looks at me, narrowing her eyes slightly, sticking her nose up in the air. She’s totally giving me the “The Snub.”
“We have a lot of unexplained storms, especially after dark,” she says.
Unexplained. Please.
“But I don’t suggest you wander the mansion at night, not even to see this particular phenomenon.” She continues walking and then looks back at Jonathan, singling him out. “But if you do, and you find yourself in need of anything—anything at all, my room is on the second floor, third door on the left.”
That weather-wielding tramp.
Jonathan has the decency to look uncomfortable. Olivia gives us a stunned half-smile, her eyes darting between Jonathan and Jenna. Then, with a frown, she hurries after her friend.
When they’re gone, a slow, wicked grin spreads across my faux-husband’s face. I press my hand over his mouth. “Don’t.”
His eyes flicker, and I realize he can read my extreme, and slightly irrational, annoyance.
Get out of my head, I think loud and clear.
He pulls my hand down, still looking far too amused. “Stop touching me, and I will.”
I scoff, but he’s got a point.
“She was lying, by the way,” he says.
“So she doesn’t want you to sneak into her room in the middle of the night so you can have your way with her?”
Annoyance passes over his face, and he steps closer. “Oh no—she meant that. I mean about the mirror.”
“Not actually haunted, huh?” I frown, feigning disappointment. “That’s a shame.”
He chuckles, jamming his hands into his pockets.
“All right. Let’s go arrest her.” I pull out my stun gun. “I brought my Taser just in case.”
“What?” he asks, startled.
“Jenna. She’s the only Aparian here. She’s controlling the storms. And she just invited you for a midnight tryst, at which she obviously plans to end your life.”
With a wicked glint in his eye, the Griffon cocks his head to the side. “Do you think I should go tonight? Just so we have evidence?”
“Is it evidence you want?”
His eyes widen with surprise, and he barks out a laugh.
I mean, come on. He’ll consider sleeping with the murdering Heron, but he freaks out when I accidentally remember the feel of his hands on my legs? There’s something very wrong here.
“You forgot something important,” he says.
“What?”
He glances down the hall. “How would a Heron kill someone and make it look like a heart attack?”
I think about it for a minute, and then it all falls into place. “She shocked him,” I say, growing excited. “With her lightning—disrupted the natural electrical current in his body.”
Jonathan stares at me, thinking it over, slowly nodding as he realizes I’m right.
Oh my gosh—I’m right.
He grabs my hand. “Come on. Let’s find the team.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“All we need is a confession,” Gray says to us, and then he turns to me. “You shouldn’t have any trouble extracting that from her.”
There you go—official permission to use my magic. I give Jonathan a smirk.
The five of us are gathered outside the stables, in the corral, where Eric has decided he needs to have a therapy session with a grumpy horse that has a habit of throwing her riders. The Bunny is running the mare on a lunge line, working out all kinds of traumas and whatnot. Despite the cool evening, the man pulled off his shirt about twenty minutes ago and tossed it over the fence.
Needless to say, he’s gathered a small crowd of bored, rich women. One actually fans her face as she ogles his bulging muscles.
The woman who runs the stable sits on the fence, long braid running down her back, practically salivating. She obviously doesn’t have a problem with Eric working with her horse. She’s probably wondering how she can convince him to work on her next.
I shake my head and look back at Gray. “What do you want us to do after Jenna confesses?”
“Do you have your Taser?”
I pull it from my back pocket, and the rhinestones glisten in the sun. Gray frowns at the weapon, glancing at Jonathan in question, and then rolls his eyes, dismissing the sparkles. “Take the Heron out and then call me.”
Rafe stands near us, on his own, pretending to watch Eric work, though he’s close enough he can hear what’s going on without making it obvious he’s part of our group. He’s silhouetted by the setting sun, which is low though it’s only early evening. It’ll be dark soon.
“Find a way to get her alone at dinner,” Gray instructs. “Make sure there’s no one around.”
I nod absently, my eyes on Eric. Broad shoulders taper to a narrow, defined waist, and his muscles ripple as he moves. His skin glistens in the setting sun, and his short hair has gone gold. Never has he looked more like a Norse god than right now.
He moves with the horse, pivoting in the center of the arena as she runs. I watch him, feeling the stress melt right from my body. I’m not sure how it’s supposed to help the mare work through her anxiety, but the show is doing wonders for me.
Jonathan snaps in front of my face.
Blinking, I look at him. The Griffon shakes his head, looking slightly disgusted.
“Come on,” he says. “It’s almost time for dinner, and you still have to get ready.”
“I love how you say that like I’m the one who takes forever,” I answer.
“You know,” he says offhandedly, “we could cut out some of that time if we share the shower.”
“Jonathan,” Rafe warns, though he never turns to acknowledge he’s with us.
The Griffon grins and extends his hands in front of him, playing innocent. “What? It saves water too. Better for the environment.”
I roll my eyes and grab his arm, pulling him toward the mansion, waving goodbye to Gray as we go.
“Is that a yes to the shower thing then?” Jonathan teases as we walk, earning himself a light jab in the ribs.
If I were evil, I’d mess with him. After all, he’s all talk when it comes to me.
“Well…it would be faster,” I say slowly, pretending to think it over. “And who doesn’t want to save the environment?”
Okay, so maybe I am a little evil—but he started it.
Jonathan comes to an abrupt stop, his arm slipping from mine. I look back, careful to keep my face blank.
“What?” I ask. “It’s not like I’ve got anything you haven’t seen before.”
He has that weird, edgy look. The kind that betrays he’s about to declare we need to go to a wine tasting.
I stare at the knight, my face impassive, waiting for him to admit he was bluffing. He stares right back, his dark eyebrows drawn together.
The sun is now behind the mountain, and the evening grows dusky. I cross my arms, chilled in my lightweight sweater. “And you certainly don’t have anything I haven’t seen before.”
A crooked smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “You’ve gotta stop trying to lie to me, Maddie. It doesn’t work.”
Right.
Pressing my lips together to hold back an embarrassed smile, I turn for the mansion, knowing Jonathan will follow. I suppose he won that round.
I use my magic on the lock as soon as we reach the door and walk into our room. Jonathan trails in behind me.
“You go ahead first.” I step inside the tiled bathroom to quickly grab my brush so I can get out of his way. “But be quick about it because I—”
I come to an abrupt stop when I turn and find Jonathan so close, I run into him. My hands fly to his chest to steady myself, and I accidentally thump him with the hairbrush.
“Oops—I didn’t know you were behind me.” I laugh and make to step away.
But the knight blocks me, wearing an expression that is nothing less than cryptic. A smile ghosts across his lips, and his eyes are on mine. He takes a step forward, making me move back. I’m in my last remaining pair of heeled boots, so I only stand a few inches shorter than him. Our faces are awfully close together.
Startled, I drop my hands to my sides, and my pulse jumps.
“I thought we were conserving water.” He raises a brow, his eyes still locked on mine. He then takes the brush from my hand and sets it on the counter.
Holy crow. What’s he doing? We’re alone—there’s no one here to fool.
“I was only teasing,” I say lamely, my chest growing tight.
He inches forward. “We’re going to play a game.”
I dart around him, ignoring the way my breath hitches. “We’re going to be late for dinner. Save the games for later.”
Before I’m out the door, Jonathan catches me around the waist and pulls me back, locking me against his chest. He’s warm and firm under his shirt. His expensive cologne has worn off during the day, leaving behind the subtlest notes of man and drug store deodorant.
For some reason, I like the fragrance just as much. Maybe more.
“Humor me,” he says, his voice deeper than usual.
And, help me, my body responds.
“Are you still hung up over Gray?” he asks. He’s careful to keep his hands away from my skin, and for that, I’m past grateful.
“What?” I ask, dumbfounded, finding myself studying his chocolate eyes. They’re so dark, so mesmerizing.
Princess of Shadows (Obsidian Queen Book 2) Page 14
