I’m blinded by caramel skin, taut muscles, and a lean build that makes my knees go as weak as a helpless princess in a tower. Why must he? Why?
“Sure, but what if I ended up being wrong?” I tease, averting my eyes, pretending the mere sight of him shirtless doesn’t make me want to melt into a puddle of Madeline goo. Look at something else.
Oh, look…that’s a nice tree.
Thankfully, Eric’s admirer is almost here, and I turn my attention to her.
“Eric,” the woman gushes, coming to a stop in front of the Bunny. She grins at him and sets her hands on her hips, slowly looking him over. “My, you’re certainly looking…well.”
I choke back a laugh, pretending to cough.
She turns my way, and there’s not even the slightest sign of her sizing me up, which you might expect since she obviously wants the Bunny, and I’m here with him. Yep, she’s definitely a Peacock—the Cristatus faction—unnaturally beautiful and graceful. Honestly, that’s their magic. You know those models who are impossibly tall, impossibly perfect, and impossibly elegant? All Peacocks.
“Sara,” Eric says, his eyes lighting a little more than I expected. Sure, she’s beautiful, but Eric’s not hard pressed for female attention. “It’s been forever.”
“Time has been good to you.” With the confidence of a woman who’s been told she’s pretty every day of her life, she leans in, squeezes his bicep, and then exaggeratedly fans her face.
I’d gag if I weren’t so amused. Peacocks are special.
“These are my teammates,” Eric says, motioning to us. “Jonathan and Maddie.”
“Madeline,” I quickly correct. I let the guys get away with the nickname occasionally, but it doesn’t need to spread.
“So…Eric.” She shakes her head, drinking him in. “What have you been up to since high school?”
“I went to the Knight’s Academy,” he says. “Now I’m a knight marshal.”
She practically purrs, her eyes drifting over him. “You look good.”
He grins in that Aw, shucks, ma’am way that’s not entirely an act—but not entirely genuine either. He knows he looks good. How couldn’t he? “What about you?” he asks.
She flashes him a not-so-modest smile that’s about as humble as his. “I’m modeling.”
What did I say?
“I moved to Los Angeles after graduation,” she continues. “I’m actually here visiting family on my way to an expo in Vegas.”
That catches my attention. “The fashion expo?”
She looks at me like I might be slow. “That’s right.”
“The same one with the disappearing models?”
A shadow crosses her face, and she pushes a strand of wayward hair behind her ear, slowly nodding. “I was supposed to do a shoot by the shore in Carmel, but my agent managed to snag me a spot.”
I don’t know about her, but I personally wouldn’t be thrilled to be working a show where the models are being snatched up faster than the designer handbags.
“We should get dinner sometime,” Sara says to Eric, returning the conversation back to the Bunny. “You know, catch up.”
She’s persistent; I’ll give her that.
Another woman gets out of the car the Peacock just exited, cell phone to her ear, and she zeros in on our group. She’s blond too, though her hair is a slightly cooler shade. There’s a serious family resemblance though, so I’m betting she’s the sister.
As soon as she finishes her call, she saunters our way, her eyes flickering over Eric and then landing on Jonathan.
“Eric, you remember my little sister, Sabrina?” Sara says as soon as the woman joins us.
Called it.
Sabrina gives us a thousand-watt smile and a little wave. It takes all of two seconds for Sara to size Jonathan up and announce that the four should go for drinks. As an afterthought, she looks at me and gives me this big smile—the kind you bestow on sidekicks and ugly puppies. “You can come too, of course!”
Oh gosh, thanks.
Sabrina smiles at Jonathan, and my stomach knots. I know how this works—it’s Tahoe all over again. Jonathan and Eric have the uncanny ability to draw girls like flies to honey. I take another surreptitious glance at their bare torsos. Yep, the reason is a mystery.
“In fact,” Sara continues, nodding faster. “Let’s go tonight!”
I’m just opening my mouth to remind the guys we have dinner when Jonathan steps close, drapes his bare arm over my shoulders, and tugs me to his side like we’re a cozy couple…almost as though he’s making a statement.
And like a knee-jerk reaction, I instantly look down, checking my clothing, making sure I’m protected. But it’s okay; I’m in a sweater—no exposed skin to touch his exposed skin.
“We’re going to dinner at Maddie’s parent’s house,” Jonathan says.
“Oh.” Sara eyes Jonathan, obviously confused. She must have assumed that teammates don’t get entangled in complicated relationships. Silly girl. “Well, that’s all right. We’ll plan something soon.”
Eric hands her his phone when she asks for it, and she gives him her number. “It was so good to see you,” she says when she hands it back. Then she has the audacity to hug him, pressing herself right up to the Bunny’s chest.
Subtle.
Sabrina flashes Jonathan a lingering look, and then she follows her sister to the jogging trail. As soon as they hit the pavement, they take off, their ponytails swinging behind them.
I shrug out from under Jonathan’s arm. “What was that?”
“What?” he asks, feigning innocence but failing miserably.
And my options are as follows:
A: demand to know why he’s constantly touching me and being so freaking charming or B: hide my head in the sand.
B it is.
“Aren’t you freezing?” I ask instead. “It’s like forty degrees out here.”
A slow, too-knowing-for-my-liking smile spreads across his face.
I turn to Eric before Jonathan can say something to get himself in trouble. “So, you’re popular, huh?”
“Was that the Sara?” Jonathan asks, not waiting for Eric to answer. He then begins gathering the empty two-liter bottles. “The one you were in love with in high school?”
“You dated a Peacock?” I ask Eric, trying not to laugh.
Jonathan’s grin turns truly wicked. “Eric loves all animals.”
I shake my head and follow Jonathan back to the Hummer. “So is this really how knight marshals spend their free time?”
“Bored of the inactivity already?” Eric laughs. “Ready to go hunt a troll or two?”
“No, I just think your idea of entertainment might differ slightly from mine.”
Jonathan looks at me over his shoulder and grins. “I bet we could find an activity we both enjoy.”
His comment isn’t necessarily flirtatious—except that he says it in this dark, tantalizing voice that makes my stomach all warm. I narrow my eyes, which only makes him smirk.
Since our conversation in Glenwood Springs, he’s been nothing but friendly, even a little standoffish. Now suddenly, we’re back to the way we were before, when flirting was easy and either meant nothing…or it meant everything.
Why?
Dread builds in my stomach. Did I say something to give myself away? Did our hands brush at some point? Do I look all forlorn and pathetic?
I dwell on it for a full minute before I decide it doesn’t matter right now. I have bigger things to worry about, namely why my father wants the team to join us for dinner. Maybe he just wants to get to know the guys I’m currently spending all my time with.
That makes sense.
Especially considering I just got myself in a mess of trouble with said guys.
Jonathan pulls a container of wet wipes out of the center console and grabs a couple for himself before he tosses them to Eric.
“You have wet wipes in your car?” I shouldn’t be surprised. He’s meticulous about his vehic
les, so of course he wants to ensure the cleanliness of his passengers as well.
“Who doesn’t?” he asks, meeting my eyes, looking oddly serious.
I shake my head, laughing to myself. After the guys stash their soda-stained shirts in a grocery bag, two clean tees magically appear. Apparently, they did plan ahead.
Once we’re in the car, Jonathan buckles his seatbelt and looks back at me. “Ready?”
By this point, my nerves have knotted themselves into a nice little ball in the pit of my stomach. “Let’s get this over with.”
8
We pull up in front of my parents’ house, and I slouch with dread. It’s a nice home, large and spacious, in a well-to-do neighborhood with multi-acre lots and a mountain backdrop. I expected to own a similar home—right after I married someone high up in the Royal Guild. That dream was pretty much shot the moment Finn decided to place me on Gray’s team.
I should probably think about moving out, finding my own place. I can’t live with my parents forever, and it’s not like I’m getting married anytime soon. Even if there were someone on the horizon, my link with Rafe would make it pretty much impossible.
It’s the first time that lovely thought has occurred to me, and my mood drops even further.
I didn’t have a choice, I remind myself yet again.
Jonathan parks in the circular drive and pulls Charles’s newly purchased belongings from the back. I don’t have any of my suitcases, of course, because they went up in flames.
Silently, I mourn the loss of my shoes—several heels, a ridiculously expensive pair of ballet flats, and boots that were almost as beautiful as the pair Rafe destroyed after we sent away a troupe of dark fairies in the woods.
And then I feel a sudden, sharp stab of guilt—I should be thinking of the people lost, not my wardrobe. What kind of sick person am I?
Also, here I am, wasting time worrying about my love life (or lack thereof) when I should be brainstorming ways to track down the thresholds.
We make our way up the wide landscaped steps. There are large pots of chrysanthemums near the entry that weren’t there a few days ago, blooming in shades of deep gold and rich purple. Mom’s not a fan of Halloween—she says it’s vulgar—but she loves autumn. She must have decided with Thanksgiving in a few weeks, it’s time to bring out a few fall touches.
Unfortunately, those fall touches make me think of the mansion my minions burned to the ground.
I open the front door, calling out a hello to whomever might be within earshot. Lillian, our housekeeper, is likely in the kitchen, but we have a few other maids who work when Mom and Dad are in town. There’s a gardener too, but his shifts are during the day, and he rarely comes inside. Oh, and occasionally, the handyman Lillian drools over stops by. But most of the time, it’s just her and me.
Eric clears his throat and stands a little straighter. He and Jonathan have been here before, but the house always has a different feel when my parents are home. My mother is all about class—nothing showy, nothing ostentatious. The entire house is done in a variety of cream colors, and there are hardwood floors throughout, covered with plush, neutral carpets and rugs.
I glance at Jonathan, wondering what he’s thinking. He gives me an easy smile, looking entirely at ease in my mother’s very stainable environment.
“Madeline,” Mom says, stepping from the kitchen just as I’m leading the guys in. She pulls me into a tight embrace and then holds me back, taking me in. Her hair is cut into a long brunette bob—a lob, as her hairdresser calls it. She wears pearls in her ears, smells like a honeysuckle perfume that is neither too strong nor too faint, and her beige sweater and charcoal leggings blend perfectly with the rest of the house.
“I didn’t realize you were coming home this soon,” I tell her.
“We had planned to spend a week in Hawaii, but we boarded a plane the moment we heard about…” She trails off, smiling in her soft way. She then turns to Jonathan and Eric. “You must be Madeline’s teammates.”
Eric greets her, giving her a friendly smile that’s nothing short of contagious. Then it’s Jonathan’s turn. For reasons unbeknownst to me, I find myself holding my breath.
As if slipping right back into his role as millionaire playboy, Jonathan takes Mom’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Bennet. I’m Jonathan Kingman.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “Kingman? Of the Texas Kingmans?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“Your mother and I went to Briarwood together, though I’m afraid we lost touch when she married your father and moved to Texas.”
Briefly, a shadow crosses Jonathan’s face at the mention of his recently deceased father, but he quickly hides it. “Mom lives in Denver now. I’d be happy to give you her contact info if you’d like. I’m sure she’d be happy to hear from you.”
“That would be lovely.” Mom gestures toward the sitting room. “Please, make yourselves at home. I believe dinner is almost ready.”
When I turn to follow the guys, Mom grasps my arm and drags me into the kitchen in a fashion that’s quite contrary to her nature. Lillian must have dashed out for a moment because she’s not in here, but about a thousand pots bubble on the stove.
“Are you all right?” Mom demands, running her eyes over me as if she’s looking for a missing appendage. “Every time I tried to call, the number said it was disconnected.”
“My phone was lost in the fire, but I’m fine,” I assure her. “I got a new one today.”
She purses her lips, almost as if she doesn’t believe that I’m all right. And then the strangest thing happens—my calm, cool, and perfectly collected mother sniffs. Her eyes begin to glisten, and I swear she’s going to cry.
“Truly,” I assure her, more than a little shaken, “I’m okay.”
And just like she did when I was five years old, she brushes a stray hair behind my ear. “I told your father I didn’t want you on that team, but he said Finn was adamant. The last thing we wanted was to draw attention to you by fighting it.” She brushes a tear from her cheek with the back of her hand, desperately trying to keep herself together. Then she whispers, “Do the knights know?”
Something about her tone makes me go cold. “Know what?”
She stares at me for several long moments. “That you’re a Fox.”
That’s not what she meant. But before I can ask her—demand she tell me, Lillian trots into the room. “Madeline!” the housekeeper says in her thick German accent, grinning as she hurries to one of her pots just before it boils over. “Burn down any forests lately?”
“Lillian,” Mom chastises, but we all know it’s a lost cause. No matter how a person might try, Lillian is impossible to subdue.
“Only one,” I respond, earning an impish grin before she goes back to her sauce. Laughing, she adds a little of this and a little of that until she’s happy with the flavor.
“Where’s Rafe?” she asks. “I saw the big, handsome blond one and the tall, dark, and scrumptious one with the nice tush, but I saw no Rafe.” She thinks about it for a moment. “Or the underwear model. Isn’t he on your team as well?”
Obviously, Gray isn’t an underwear model, but she’s right about Jonathan. He really does have a nice butt.
“Lillian,” Mother says again, her tone more of a hiss this time.
The housekeeper wipes her hands on a dishcloth and gives us a facts-are-facts sort of shrug.
“Gray went with Finn to Denver to see His Grace, and Rafe…”
Yep, no clue how to answer that one.
“…isn’t here,” I finish.
Smooth, Madeline. Go you.
“Shame,” she pouts.
Rafe is her favorite. Which is a good thing, considering he’s here constantly, hovering. I’m pretty sure Lillian thinks we’re dating, though I’ve told her about a million times we’re not.
I imagine she’d be even more adamant if she knew that Rafe pretty much slept on the couch every night before The Incident. Luckily
, she goes home at eight at night, and Rafe always left the house right before she’d show up the next morning.
She never figured it out. Or if she did, she’s kept her mouth shut, which seems highly unlikely.
“Madeline, would you like to change before dinner?” Mom asks, eyeing my oversized department store sweater and jeans. I can tell she wants to know why I’d wear such a thing; it’s killing her.
Since it’s easier to do as she asks than argue, I nod and head for my bedroom upstairs.
Charles has already found his way to my bed, and to my surprise, he seems happy to be home. Before I step into the closet to look for something a little more Mom-approved, I spoon Pedigreed Perfection into his waiting bowl. He leaps off the bed, giving me a happy mew. Maybe he missed our routine.
As the cat happily munches on his dinner, I step into my closet and proceed to stare at the contents for far too long. Dinner is going to be ready shortly. I just need to grab something that’s neither too sexy nor too matronly and throw it on.
I change five times before I end up in a navy wrap dress accessorized with nude kitten-heels and a thin matching belt. Just as I’m putting on a pair of silver drop earrings, there’s a knock at my door.
Fully expecting my mother, I say, “You can come in.”
The door swings open, but it’s not Mom. My heart gives an extra thump when I turn and find Jonathan standing in the doorway. A bit more respectful than Gray has ever been, he lingers just outside my room, leaning against the frame.
“Yes?” I ask.
His eyes slide over me, and he raises his brows. “You look awfully nice for a dinner at home.”
“My mother informed me I was underdressed.”
“No complaints here.”
My cheeks grow warm, which is ridiculous. What is it about this man that sets me all aflutter?
“Do you have a purpose for this visit?” I ask. “Or were you hoping to get on my father’s bad side?”
A smile grows on his face. It’s slow, and so warm, it could melt a chocolate bar in January. “The door’s wide open. High school rules, right?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
Knights of Obsidian Page 6
