“Are you and Sax?”
“Yes, maybe. Or at least I’m hoping. What are you doing tonight?”
“Um, I’m making Manny dinner at my place.”
“Get out! First date?”
“We hung out after the mission. I don’t know if he thinks that was a date or if this will be our first.”
“You have to like him if you’re making food for a man. But what about Bronx?” Noelle tosses her blonde bangs off her forehead—a not to subtle way to check out our instructor.
He’s busy giving pointers to two female students firing guns. He turns as if he knows we’re talking about him and gives us a smile but then goes back to them. His hand lingers around one of their hands as he demos the proper way to hold it.
“Because he’s yum yum, too, in his own way from Manny,” she continues. “Bronx is flirty and fun, whereas Manny is serious and mysterious.”
“I’m dating Manny.” I pick up one of the short swords, examining it.
“You could go out with both. That way you wouldn’t have to choose. These days, you don’t have to be exclusive if you’re upfront with them and keep it casual.”
Really? Is that a thing? Tonight will be informal between Manny and me; it’s just dinner. Who knows if anything will go further?
I bite my lip.
But I might want it to.
After trying out various swords, and Bronx telling us about each blade and when was the best time to use each, we are finally let out of class. I wave to Noelle and Reist and sprint back across campus to shower and change before Manny arrives. My room still needs to be picked up, but I’m not normally a messy person. I like order.
Maybe this is why I find it the concept of dating two people so hard.
Combing through my long black hair, I quickly change into a new pink T-shirt and jeans. The little things that were out of place are now in their proper home on the shelves or in drawers.
A knock startles me. I finish tying my black and white apron around my waist and open the door.
Bronx is holding a bottle of Jack Daniels. His eyes widen as he takes in what I’m wearing, and the bottle almost drops from his grip.
“Ooh la la. What did I do to deserve this?” Heat brushes my cheeks as he drinks me in. “You know I’ve had many fantasies about French maids.” I’m sure my eyes are the size of watermelons. “I know I render a lot of girls speechless, Sweetheart. So before you go make a nice dinner for my bro, I will take my payment.”
“Oh, right. How much do I owe you?”
“Right here.” He taps his cheek.
“You want a kiss?”
“Yep. You know I’m a minor, too, but you asked, and I came through. At least you could give me what I want in return.”
I lean in to do what he asked, but he turns his head and our lips collide. Neither of us move. For me, it’s because I’m in shock. For him, well, I don’t know. Maybe he’s waiting for me. But then his mouth moves as his tongue darts out and brushes over my bottom lip.
A quiet moan escapes me.
He chuckles and stands back. Then he motions for me to step out the door.
Flustered, I grab the groceries and make my way to the kitchen, leaving him with a goofy smile on his face. Checking the silver clock hanging on the wall, I see it’s almost six. Manny should be here soon. Maybe I should meet him in my room. We never agreed where, just the when. Now, I don’t know. Should I leave this, go find him, and then come back? Most people wouldn’t steal food, right?
Pulling off the apron, I lay the knife down. A tingling sensation tells me that I don’t need to go anywhere. Manny steps through the kitchen. He’s wearing the same pants but changed into a fresh black T-shirt. He smells of lavender. I wonder if that’s from his shampoo, soap, or detergent.
“Ah, thought you might already be in here prepping food.” He meanders to me and picks up the apron and brings it over my head. “Wouldn’t want you to ruin your clothes on my account.” He steps back and admires me. A smirk spreads across his face.
“What?”
“Where’s your feather duster?”
I smack him with a dish towel. “That’s what Bronx said, too.
“He was here?”
“Yeah, he dropped off something I needed to make dinner with.” I’m sautéing the Portobello mushrooms and adding in the super-secret ingredient that Chef swore me to keep. “He said that you don’t drink alcohol, but I needed it for this. I show him the saucepan and what’s simmering. “It’ll burn off most of the liquor, if you’re worried.”
He looks at the cutting board. “Shouldn’t be a problem. What else are we making?”
“I’m making steak flanks in a mushroom sauce with a Mediterranean zucchini and chickpea salad. I hope you’re hungry.”
“Starving.” His green eyes drop and linger on my lips. I don’t think he means just the food.
Clearing my throat, his swirling emerald irises focus back onto my heated face. “Do you need help? I’m forever at your service. Tell me what you need.”
“Here take the zucchini and slice it down the center the long way, then chop it into bite sized pieces. Then when you’re done with that, add the chickpeas, tomatoes, and fresh basil. Wait to drizzle the balsamic dressing until the steaks are done.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I add a few drops of oil to the pan and raise the burner temperature to high. As soon as I hear the popping sounds, I sear the steak strips. “How do you like yours?” I point to the meat.
“Rare.”
“Okay. Then you better add the salad dressing since this won’t take too long.”
“Is that how you take yours?” He takes the bottle out of the bag and dribbles it over the vegetables. I don’t even need to tell him to toss the salad.
“No, I’m a medium-rare gal.” When he’s done with the salad, the steak is ready to rest. Wrapping it in tin foil, I lay it on a platter. My palms start sweating, and I know it’s not from slaving away over the stove. “Almost done, just a couple minutes on the sauce.”
Manny fills the sink with the dirty dishes and starts to scrub them clean. Spotting a towel, which I brought, he dries them and places the clean items into my laundry basket.
“Thanks.” I brush against his arm. “Ready?”
We balance our food and bring the pots, pans, and other kitchenware back with us. He follows closely next to me, enough that I can feel his body heat.
Once back in my room, I lay the platter on the bed and grab the basket from Manny. He carries the salad bowl with him then sits crossed legged onto the mattress. Pulling out plates, forks, knives and napkins, I hand him a set. We spoon some salad onto our own plates, and I fork the rare steaks to his. I opted to leave the mushroom sauce in the pan and he can decide if he wants to try it. Scooping a heaping number of mushrooms, I drizzle it over my steak.
“Eat up,” I tell him. He cuts into one of the flanks and then adds a tiny drop of sauce. Sniffing it, he places it in his mouth. I watch him and how his lips move, chewing and savoring the meat as if this is his last dinner. “Well?”
“It’s ... it’s interesting. Not in a bad way. It’s good.”
“I’m glad you like it.”
We eat almost in silence, bantering a bit about our days, but nothing of real importance. It does make our date a bit awkward. After we’re done eating, I notice that he hardly touched the salad.
“Not a fan?” I point to the bowl.
“I don’t really care for veggies. What can I say? I’m a carnivore through and through.”
I shovel the leftovers into storage containers and place them back into the mini-fridge. Fidgeting with the surround sound, I hit play and a soft current seeps out through the speakers. At least I’m not wringing my hands.
An unspoken energy fills the room.
“Thank you for the great meal. So, what else do you have up your sleeve? Obviously, you’re a great cook.”
“What do you want to know?” I lean back against the wa
ll and extend my legs. Manny does the same. Our knees bump as he sits next to me. “I don’t live an exciting life. I’m rather boring.”
“You are anything but boring.” He picks up my hand and rubs circles near my thumb. “Tell me about your childhood. What was it like?”
“Probably similar to everyone else’s.”
“I highly doubt that. Only daughter of New York’s royalty. Grew up on the Upper East Side of Manhattan, overlooking Central Park in the penthouse suite of a forty-floor high rise on Fifth Avenue.”
“You’ve done your homework on me.”
“I have, but most people know that about you. What they don’t know is what I’m asking you to tell me.”
“Yes, I did grow up rich, but I didn’t know it then. My parents travelled and took me with them. Mom didn’t want to leave me with a nanny all the time, so they brought me. Vacationing all over in exotic places, attending world sporting events, and slayer council meetings. And since most of them took place in New York, I thought my life was normal. I went to private schools up until I transferred to York.”
“Was that a surprise to you, knowing that you potentially have magic and would become a dragon slayer?”
“Not really. Both my parents are, and they never hid that fact. They told me early on that that part of our lives was a secret and to tell absolutely no one, or I’d be in huge trouble. I loved pleasing them, so I never told a soul. It helped that growing up I didn’t have many friends to tell anyway. It was always my parents and me. Sometimes, I’d spend the afternoons or evenings with the children of an associate or an acquaintance to my folks.”
“Is that why you’re shy?”
“Who says that?” He tilts his head to the side. “Fine, maybe I am a little. It’s hard for me to get out there. I couldn’t tell kids at school about the real me, so I built a wall. My parents know everything about me so when people about personal stuff, I don’t know what to say. It’s difficult for them to break through to see the real me.”
“I see you.”
I bite my lip. “I thought coming here would be different since we’re all training to be slayers.”
“But,” Manny prompts.
“No one talked to me, except for you. I really wanted to make friends from my class, be normal for once. How come you talked to me?”
“It’s hard giving a tour to someone without speaking.”
“Yeah, but after that. We didn’t hang out or do anything—”
“I told you why we couldn’t.”
“I know you did. But you still made an effort. And I want to know, why?”
“When I saw you step out from your father’s vehicle ... I’d seen pictures of you online from news articles and such. They didn’t do you justice. Of course, administration told me who I would be guiding that day. But something else drew me to you. I wanted to know you, keep you safe. I’m glad I was able to be your friend, even in an unconventional way. I saw your struggles, which is why I reached out to you. The more I saw the battles within you and you overcoming them, I knew I wanted to be more than your friend.” He brings our joined hands up and kisses mine. “And then you became Kill Shot. I knew then that we were destined to be together. You’ve joined the elite.”
“Noelle said that I didn’t give anyone a chance. Everyone held me back at arms-length. Maybe it was them, but it also was me, too. She’s probably right. I’ve been alone for so long.”
“You’re not anymore.”
Manny leans in and kisses my lips. His hands roam over my thin body. My fingers thread into his soft hair. His breath smells of the peppery steaks from dinner. Yum. Our legs twist together as he rolls me onto my back. He parts my lips with his tongue. I meet his tongue with my own, and they dance together in our mouths.
I move my arms down across his broad shoulders. Manny breaks our lip-lock and places feather-light kisses down my neck. My body shivers.
His mouth finds mine again briefly and I pull away. “What about your childhood,” I pant.
“You want to talk about that now?” His breath hitches.
“Um. Maybe?”
“Well, you do or you don’t? I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do. I’m not like that.”
“I didn’t think you were. It’s just that we hardly know one another.”
“I am getting to know you.”
I slap his arm, playfully. His eyes are heady.
I could get used to having Manny around. He’s nice, easy going. My parents would love him. Manners up the wazoo. He’s kind and courteous. What’s not to like about this man?
A hard knock shakes my door. Manny’s body cringes. We untangle ourselves, and I scramble off the bed. Opening the door, Staten fills the space.
“Bronx said you were here. We’re needed.” His eyes glance down my body and back to Manny. He turns to walk away, but stops. He doesn’t give anything away. He knows what we were doing by the looks of our rumpled clothes. My cheeks turn bright pink. “Now,” he calls back.
Manny joins us at the door. I think it’s because of Staten’s harsh voice, but his green eyes are softer like he’s worried.
“I’ve got to go, Brooklyn. Thank you for dinner. We’ll continue later.” He winks.
Staten’s footsteps fade down the hallway as Manny runs to catch up with him.
Manny left in such a hurry with Staten that I know something is wrong. The urgent look on Staten’s face was clear.
Someone could be hurt.
Should I follow them? Maybe they could use my help. Sure, Manny, Staten, and Bronx are a class ahead of me, but we’re all Kill Shots.
Resolved, I leave my room. Running down the hall and taking two steps at a time, my climb to the lobby is short. The glass doors just swing closed. I hurry across the tiled floor and press myself against the wall, peaking out the window to see if that was Manny and Staten.
They are making their way across the sidewalk and heading toward the path behind my building. I sprint after them, keeping my distance and my feet as quiet as I can while pounding the pavement.
The air is still warm for a Monday night in late spring for New York. I keep to the shadow of the building when I reach the backyard. The fence that boarders the property line shakes from them closing the gate.
Hushed whispers float back to my ears. I can’t make out what they are saying. They pass through the tree line and continue walking on Amsterdam Avenue. I dash to keep up, and soon I’m beyond the trees. Scanning the area, I spot a thick trunk and hide behind it. I can’t lose sight of them. They could turn onto any number of streets and into a building. Leaving my safety, my legs carry me forward, following them, hoping that I’m leaving enough distance between us.
I’m not stealthy, but I do know how to blend in so no one sees me. Most of my life has been that way.
Their pace picks up; I can hear their feet slapping on the cement. I match my strides with theirs, even though Manny and Staten have longer legs. The quicker steps burns, but I ignore my body. The boys aren’t slowing. After ten blocks of a grueling run, they finally turn right onto 104th Street. Cutting through the McDonald’s parking lot, they continue toward Riverside Park.
I break away from the building that I flattened myself against, but a hand grips my shoulder.
“What are you doing?” Bronx’s frame looms over me. I ignore him, cocking my head trying to keep my eyes on Manny or Staten. “Brooklyn.”
“I’m—”
“I know who you’re following. I’ve been chasing you since you left the school.”
“Do you know what’s going on?”
“Yes, and you shouldn’t be here.” Bronx fists his hands to his sides, but his face is plastered with worry. For me? “Why did you follow them?”
“I thought that someone could be hurt. Staten came to my room sounding urgent and Manny just left. I followed. Yesterday, Manny showed me the secret gate.”
“All right, stay behind me. Do you have any weapons on you?”
“No, I didn’t think to bring any.” I shake my head. Now I feel silly for trudging after them. If they get into a fight what exactly will I bring to the table? This was a stupid idea. “Are you guys on a secret mission?”
“No, we’ll see when we get to the park, though.”
“How do you know that’s where they went?”
“Staten texted me. Now, come on.”
We run the remaining four blocks to get to the park entrance. It’s pitch black, not even the street lamps are lit. Magic is in the air and not because I’m plastered against Bronx. A dragon must be near.
“Keep close. I have no idea what we’re running into.”
I know Bronx can feel it, too. His hand snakes to my wrist, tugging me even closer to him. My lips are directly behind his ears. I can’t control my breathing, so I suck in a deep breath, causing my chest to rub against his back. He chuckles lightly. We creep along the marked path. He holds up a hand and we stop. He inclines his head, listening.
“Over there.” He points to the shoreline.
As we near, three shadows emerge. Two are tall. Must be Manny and Staten. The third I can barely make out. The boys are standing over it. Both have guns drawn, but they are lowered in a non-threatening way.
A twig breaks, and Staten turns around. He knows Bronx is coming but doesn’t expect me. His eyes widen for a split second, and then they turn to anger. “Why did you bring her?”
“I didn’t,” Bronx says. “She followed you guys.”
“Let me handle her,” Manny says.
Handle me? I don’t think so.
He walks to us, blocking me from whatever it is they were looking at. He nods to Bronx who releases my wrist as he brushes past me to stand next to Staten. I still can’t make out anything in the darkness, except maybe the thing is lying on the ground.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Manny says.
“I realize that now.”
“What were you thinking? It’s not safe out here for you.”
Dragon Slayers Page 6
