Guild of Secrets

by Shannon Lynn Cook

  Maybe he just wants out of the suite, which seems so intimate without Eric and Jonathan crashing around, being loud and boisterous.

  “I have to set up Charles’s litter box—”

  “Done,” he interrupts. “I asked if the resort could provide one when I called to make the reservation.”

  “Oh.”

  I’m rapidly running out of excuses.

  And that was sort of sweet. I mean, I know how Gray feels about Charles. He’s not the cat’s biggest fan. In fact, I think I’m Charles’s only fan.

  “All right,” I say after several moments. “Let’s walk around.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  We end up in a casino not far from our resort. Despite my reluctance to eat this late, we’re at a cafe on the floor level, serenaded by bells, short bursts of tinny music, and the repetitive clank of coins hitting metal trays. Just over Gray’s shoulder, numbers appear on an electronic Keno board. It’s the least romantic spot imaginable—intentional on both our parts, I’m sure.

  “All finished?” our waitress asks me, already reaching for my mostly empty plate of chicken Caesar salad. I nod, and she moves to Gray, who pushes his empty plate her way, snatching the last, lone fry before she takes it.

  When she brings back the check, Gray tosses a few bills on the table, tells her to keep the change, and leads me out of the restaurant.

  “Thank you for dinner,” I say, sternly telling myself this doesn’t feel like a date but a friendly outing between coworkers.

  It’s fun to lie to yourself every once in a while.

  Because I’ve had so little sleep in the last few days, I’m exhausted now that I’ve eaten. We cross the quiet street and head for the resort. On the way, we pass the pool area beyond the flowering-vine-covered, black metal fence. The pool glows aquamarine, lit from below, and soft accent lights line the paths and lush landscaping. Even though it’s late, several people sit around the edge, dipping their legs in the water, talking.

  Jets bubble in the hot tub, practically calling my name.

  Gray catches me looking. “The pamphlet in the room said it’s open twenty-four hours a day.”

  I glance at him, unsure. “I didn’t bring a suit.”

  “You could buy one in the gift shop if it's still open.”

  Sure I could—something cheap and ill-fitting. Still, the hot water would feel fabulous after so many long, stressful days.

  “Let’s see if they have anything,” I finally say.

  Ten minutes later, I’m staring at a scarlet one piece with a clever collection of skimpy straps loosely woven over the stomach and sides. It might as well be a bikini. You’d have to be skilled at Cat’s Cradle just to get it on.

  Gray and I stand side by side, staring at it, and I feel myself flushing. Suddenly, swimming doesn’t seem like such a smart idea.

  Gray flips over the tag and grimaces. “Eighty-four bucks.”

  I don’t flinch even though I know it’s vastly overpriced for the quality of the fabric and workmanship.

  Next to the slightly scandalous one piece are three bikinis, all of which would display more skin than I’ve shown since birth.

  It’s the sorta-one-piece or nothing.

  Before I have a chance to lose my nerve, I pull the swimsuit off the hanger and march to the counter to pay.

  I shut myself into the bedroom as soon as we make it into the suite, lay the swimsuit on the bed, and give myself a pep talk, using the following points:

  One, I’m sure Gray’s seen lots of girls in swimsuits sexier than this.

  Two, Gray is my coworker, and therefore he doesn’t care what I look like in a swimsuit.

  Three, if I work up the nerve to put this on, I get to see Gray shirtless.

  Then I realize that point number three must be thrown out because I have no desire to see Gray shirtless.

  Nope.

  No desire.

  A quiet, nervous giggle manages to escape my mouth before I clamp my lips shut. I’m losing it.

  I throw away the sanitary strip after inspecting it for crinkles—just to make sure no one has tried the suit on. Because yuck. Then I slip on the swimsuit, fighting with the ridiculous straps. I end up trussed up like a turkey, my arm stuck through a hole somewhere in the vicinity of where my side should be.

  A few moments later, I take the suit off and readjust the whole thing before stepping into it again.

  With as much trouble as I’m having, you’d never know I’ve been dressing myself for years.

  Charles sits on the bed, glaring at me. It’s like he knows the thoughts bouncing around in my frazzled brain, and he doesn’t approve. Maybe that’s why when Gray knocks on the bedroom door, I jump a foot in the air.

  “You good in there?” he calls, perhaps expecting it to take less than fifteen minutes to change into a swimsuit. Foolish man.

  I take a deep breath, make sure everything important is covered, and then open the door. My eyes immediately drop to Gray’s chest…his broad, tanned, muscular chest. A light dusting of hair skims over his pecs and trails lower, drawing my eyes to his abdomen.

  My cheeks go hot, and I suddenly have the inexplicable urge to cover myself. My magic tingles along my skin, itching to cloak me with invisibility—just another one of my fun Foxy talents.

  Standing tall, refusing to let myself swoon over the simple sight of a shirtless man, I force myself to rip my eyes from Gray’s sculpted abs.

  “Ready?” he asks when I meet his gaze, seemingly unaffected by the sight of me in a swimsuit.

  In fact, he doesn’t look the slightest bit flustered—which is rather insulting, thank you very much.

  “Yep.”

  Wrapping myself in a hotel towel, I follow him out the door, to the elevator. We don’t say anything on the way down, and I keep my eyes firmly fixed to the buttons at the front. Thank goodness there aren’t any mirrors in this one, or I’d be doomed.

  When we enter the pool area, the night air wraps around us, almost chilly for summer. Goosebumps rise on my skin, and I make my way through the landscaping, hurrying for the hot tub…the hot tub that had no less than four people in it earlier.

  The hot tub that’s empty now.

  The hot tub that’s empty in the pool area that is also empty.

  Gray passes me, apparently not plagued by these hysterical thoughts, and steps into the hot, bubbling water. Steam rises, almost masking his upper body.

  I step in behind him, wincing at the heat, and lower myself onto the submerged ledge, hoping to hide.

  Immediately, my muscles relax, and my doubts ease. Gray’s on one side; I’m on the other.

  This is fine. No big deal.

  At least, it’s not a big deal until Gray turns back to me, walking my way, skimming his hands over the water on either side of him as he moves.

  He doesn’t stop until he’s right in front of me. He’s close enough our knees will brush if he takes another step.

  I sink a little lower, making sure the water is nearly to my chin. My hair floats around me, lit in the underwater lights.

  “We need to discuss what happened when we arrested the troll,” he says, his gray-blue eyes darker in the night.

  “You shouldn’t have given me a Taser if you didn’t expect me to use it.”

  He leans down, meeting my eyes. “You know very well that’s not what I’m talking about.”

  I press my lips together, unsure how to tackle this conversation.

  “You used persuasion on that boy,” he says.

  “Or maybe I’m just naturally persuasive.”

  “I felt it.”

  Of course he did—just as I can feel it when he uses it.

  “You’re a Wolf,” he accuses.

  Yes, let’s go with that.

  “How is it possible?” he asks.

  I pull my legs under me, sitting on them in the water, trying to get a little farther from him. Softly, I admit, “I was adopted.”

  He raises his eyebrows, slowly noddin
g as he processes it. “That explains a lot.”

  Instantly on edge, I cross my arms, hoping to hide myself. Unfortunately, judging from the way Gray’s eyes flicker briefly to my chest, the move might have put more skin on display. Oh well, too late now.

  “How so?” I demand.

  Smirking at my indignant response, he shifts a tiny bit closer. “You don’t look much like your parents.”

  Must everyone point that out this week?

  Not that it isn’t true.

  “Do you have a point?”

  “Your parents are short, and they both have very average brown hair. You’re tall, and everything about you is gold. Your hair is golden, your skin is golden, and your eyes shift from green to gold depending on the lighting.”

  The heat from the water makes me light-headed. That, and I might be holding my breath.

  “What color are they now?” I ask, my voice breathy.

  Flirt much, Madeline?

  He shifts closer, setting his hands on the ledge by my shoulders, caging me in just like he did in the mirrored elevator. “Green.”

  The mist swirls between us, creating a soft ambiance. I don’t know where to look, so my gaze settles on his shoulder. His safe shoulder.

  “You broke up with Finn,” Gray says after several long moments, his words a caress in the night.

  Startled, my eyes fly to his.

  “He called me not long after you disappeared,” Gray continues. “Told me to keep an eye on you just in case you decided to do something destructive tonight.”

  “Is that what this is? You keeping me out of trouble?” I ask, leaning forward just a tiny bit. “Or are you helping me find something destructive?”

  His eyes flash with something dark and delicious, but before he can answer, voices drift to us from the pool entrance.

  “You’re taking it too far,” a man says, his voice hard. He’s blocked by the landscaping, impossible to see.

  “It’s fine,” another man answers. “The guild’s not a problem—”

  He cuts off abruptly as if shushed.

  “What about the guild?” I whisper to Gray. The two are either familiar with our society, or they’re big into RPGs. As far as I know, no one else uses that word.

  “Check by the hot tub,” the first man says quietly, his voice carrying on the light breeze.

  “Giggle like you’re drunk,” Gray says in my ear.

  “What?”

  Then I squeal with surprise, because Gray’s hand finds my side, and he tickles the sensitive skin right under my ribcage—the part unprotected by my strappy suit. Before I can slap him, he tugs me against his chest and presses his lips to my throat.

  I freeze, shocked, overwhelmed with sensation. I might even let out a little moan, but there’s no time to dwell on that now.

  “If they think we’re preoccupied, they might keep talking,” Gray whispers, his lips fluttering over my wet skin. “Close your eyes, tip your head back—pretend you’re enjoying this.”

  Pretend?

  I let out a nervous laugh and whisper, “I’m afraid you think I’m more dedicated to the guild than I am.”

  Light footsteps tread on the concrete, and I keep my eyes closed, as instructed.

  The job might suck, but the benefits are amazing.

  Apparently satisfied that we’re of no concern, the men begin talking again, but their voices are too low for me to hear. Hopefully Gray, who’s enhanced Wolf hearing is just a bit better than mine, will be able to pick it up.

  Gray moves to my ear. “They’ve walked to the other side of the pool, but one’s still looking this way.”

  “I can’t hear them.” I bring my hand to the back of Gray’s neck—you know, for the sake of being convincing. His skin is hot, damp, and the short ends of his hair are slick against my fingers. “Can you?”

  He barely shakes his head, his lips now trailing my jaw.

  Every one of my nerves is on fire. If the men don’t move on soon, I’m afraid I’m going to overheat. Honestly, the men themselves are the only thing subtracting from the moment, which is funny because they’re the reason we’re in this position to begin with.

  Gray moves lower, his lips skimming over my pulse point, and my eyelids flutter.

  I wish we could disappear—I wish I could draw Gray into the shadows with me. I can feel my magic tingle as it begs me to let it cloak us.

  Loud enough for me to hear, one of the men says, “Hey. Where’d those two go?”

  “Inside,” the other man answers, obviously not interested. “The way they were going at it, they probably got a room. Lucky bastard.”

  “They just disappeared,” the man argues. “Like there one minute, gone the next.”

  Gray’s muscles tense against mine, but he doesn’t let me loose. We’re still right here, right in their line of sight.

  Except we’re not. Because my magic got the best of me.

  Sounding a little less sure of himself, the man says, “Let’s finish this somewhere else.”

  Once they leave, Gray turns his eyes on me. His stare is hard, his forehead lined as he studies me. “You cloaked us.”

  Which is something Wolves can’t do.

  My breaths come in bursts, but I try to control them because with each one, I press further against Gray’s chest. “I didn’t mean to.”

  “You’re not a Wolf—you’re a Fox,” he practically snarls.

  “I don’t have a lot of practice controlling my skills.” I search his eyes, pleading with him to understand. “I try to suppress them. Sometimes they get away from me.”

  Sometimes when my emotions are high.

  “A Fox,” he says again as if he can’t quite believe it. His hands clutch me closer, but he’s not exactly gentle.

  “It’s not like I want to be,” I say, growing agitated. “I couldn’t choose my faction any more than you. My whole life, I’ve hidden my natural abilities, cultivating my mastery of the elements instead.”

  “The persuasion.” His eyes bore into mine.

  My mouth goes dry. “Yes.”

  His jaw and eyes are hard. “Are we still cloaked?”

  “We are.” The magic still travels my skin, tingling as it works. Fearing his answer, I admit, “It has to run its course.”

  “You can’t end it?”

  I shake of my head and admit, “I’m not sure how.”

  His eyes widen with surprise. “You’re strong enough to mask us both, but you don’t know how to control your power?”

  I understand his shock—I do. It’s an elementary thing most Aparians learn when they’re young, when the gifts first emerge, but Father told me to suppress them. My life has been as easy as it is because people have no idea what I am. But now, when the magic slips free, I have little to no mastery over it.

  Biting my lip, I nod.

  His eyes drop to my mouth, to my bottom lip that’s caught between my teeth. My breath stutters.

  Gray’s hands are still at my sides; I’m still flush with his chest.

  I think of the way his mouth traveled my neck, my ears, my jaw, and I suddenly ache for more.

  I need his mouth on mine, the pressure of his palms on my skin.

  And…what am I doing?

  I turn my head, needing to break the contact so I can think. Immediately, Gray’s hands leave my skin, and he takes several steps back in the water.

  “It’s late,” he says. “We have an early morning tomorrow.”

  I nod, feeling ill.

  What kind of girl breaks up with one brother in the afternoon and then finds herself in a hot tub, making out with the other brother that very same night?

  Yuck.

  And just like that, the magic fizzles away.

  Gray hands me a towel as I step out of the water, and I immediately wrap myself, feeling like I’m going to cry.

  He looks like he wants to say something, probably kick me off the team now that he knows I’m a Fox. Which is fine by me—but not like this.

&nb
sp; “I’m sorry,” I murmur, and then I hurry for the doors.

  Before I get very far, Gray’s fingers wrap around my arm, and he pulls me back. I wait for him to say something, anything, but he just frowns, his jaw working as if he’s trying to think of something to say.

  After several silent moments, he lets me go. “I’ll be up in a bit. Try to get some sleep.”

  I swallow, manage a nod, and resist the urge to run away like a guilty little girl.

  ***

  Jonathan nearly chokes on his tongue when he opens the door.

  I tug the towel tighter around my body, feeling like an idiot. “Gray has the key.”

  “You were with Gray?” Jonathan asks, blatantly letting his eyes wander. “Wearing that?”

  Rolling my eyes, I shove past him.

  Eric sits on the couch with the TV remote in his hand, eyebrows raised, eyes firmly affixed to my face though I’m sure they already wandered while I was standing in the hall.

  At least he has a little more tact than Jonathan.

  Just after I think it, a wicked smile spreads across his face, and he says, “Next time you want to go swimming, Maddie, feel free to invite us.”

  So much for that.

  “You boys had your own party.” I try to say the words lightly, but they come out flat.

  Apparently not noticing my mood, Eric’s grin turns into a smirk. “Yes, we did.”

  Not wanting to hear about their night of debauchery, I step into the bathroom. “I’m cleaning up and then going to bed.”

  “Need any help?” Jonathan calls, smirking in a way that would probably have most girls swooning.

  But most girls haven’t spent the evening with Gray’s lips on their skin and his hands on their bodies.

  In answer to Jonathan’s question, I close the door and flip the lock. I think he gets the point.

  It’s not until I’m drawing the water, trying not to replay the night’s events in my head, that I realize that Gray never told me if he heard what the men were talking about.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  I’m curling my hair when there’s a knock at the bathroom door.

  “Go away, Jonathan,” I holler through the door, my reflection’s eyes narrowing in the mirror. He’s already pestered me three times—and Gray calls me a princess.