The three begin to crowd together, shoving each other in the chests, each insisting that they’re going to be the man I choose to zap himself with twelve million volts of electricity.
“I should stop this,” I say after a long moment, stepping forward.
Jonathan holds me back. “No…no. Let’s just see how this plays out.”
I turn to him. “You’re a sick man.”
He shrugs. “They started it.”
The big guy ends up punching his friend in the nose. With a glorious spray of blood, the man’s head snaps back, almost in slow motion. In mere moments, the three of them are on the floor, grappling with each other, each continuing to yell that they will be the one to maim themselves for my pleasure.
The bartender leaps over the counter, hollering for the staff in the kitchen to come help with the bar fight.
As the workers try to yank the trio apart, I pull the magic back. The fight instantly leaves them, and the three men stare at me, bewildered.
“Miss, I think we’re going to have to ask you and your friends to leave,” the bartender says, turning to me, looking suspicious.
“No,” I say, coating the words with persuasion, though I use a little less magic this time. “We haven’t eaten yet, and you don’t want to send us away before we can try the food.”
He nods to himself. “You’re right…I don’t want to send you away before you can try the food.”
I give him a sage nod. “I usually am.”
“In fact”—his eyes light as if he’s just had the greatest epiphany known to man—“the meal’s on the house.”
Wow, I’m on a roll.
“That would be lovely,” I assure him. He gives me a crooked smile and assists in escorting the spandex-wearing cyclists out the door.
Glad that's over, I sit and primly place a napkin on my lap.
“The force is strong with this one,” Jonathan jokes to Gray, grinning like he got away with murder.
Gray meets my eyes, looking both impressed and concerned. “Yes.”
Eric joins us a few moments later and sits down, opening his menu. “Did I miss anything?”
“Nope,” I say. “What are you going to order?”
“Hmmm.” He studies the menu. “Probably a cheeseburger.”
I purse my lips, hiding a smile.
The waitress brings back our drinks, and we put in our order. When I take a sip of my water with lemon, I find Gray studying me, that strange look still on his face.
“You need to master your gifts,” he finally says. “We’re going to start practicing, you and I.”
“What gifts?” Eric looks up.
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” I tell Gray.
Eric looks at Jonathan and asks again, “What gifts?”
“Right now, you’re a danger to yourself and others. You need to learn control.”
I set my drink down and run my finger along the top of the glass. I glance at the bartender, who I find watching me behind his counter, dopey smile on his face. He waves the second our eyes meet. Frowning, I return the gesture with a small wave of my own. Then I say to Gray, my gaze still averted, “You might be right.”
I can feel the knight’s eyes still on me, and finally, I have no choice but to look up.
“We’ll start after lunch,” Gray says, and then he turns to Eric and asks who won last night’s baseball game. The boys launch into a sports-filled conversation that I couldn’t care less about. I sit in silence while they talk, stomach churning, trying not to imagine this afternoon’s session of “One-on-one Magic Time” with Gray.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
In my head, I pictured the two of us finding an empty gym, working on my skills. Eventually, Gray would lose his shirt, and we’d end up grappling on the ground, not unlike Lumberjack and his buddies. Well, maybe a little different.
“Are you sure?” I ask. “We can practice here?”
Gray glances around our hotel suite. “Why not?”
“Because…I don’t know. It’s a hotel room?”
Just as he said, we’re alone. Gray sent Jonathan and Eric to go entertain themselves. As they were leaving, I heard them devising a clever plan for finding the two bikini-clad girls from last night.
Honestly, bare skin is all men ever think about. Speaking of bare skin…
My mind wanders again to my gym fantasy—no, scratch that. It’s not a fantasy. Let’s call it an impartial mental image.
And in that impartial mental image, Gray’s shirtless, all sweaty and hot.
“Foxes don’t utilize offensive magic,” Gray reasons. “We’re not exactly going to be sparing with each other.”
Well, there goes that.
“It’s not like I can practice persuasion and charisma on you,” I say. “So I’m not sure how we’re going to get anything done.”
He steps in front of me, setting his hands on my shoulders and looking me in the eyes. “That’s why I’m the perfect person to practice on. I can handle anything you throw at me, and I want you to give me everything you've got.”
My mouth goes dry.
“Besides,” he continues, “there’s a lot more to your magic than persuasion and charisma.”
But those are the two I’m most familiar with—they’re the easiest to just use. The rest require a lot more conscious thought.
Gray drops his hands and steps back. “Let’s start with cloaking. Go ahead.”
Go head? Just like that?
I glance around the sunny room. The drapes are open, letting in all kinds of light. “There are literally no shadows here. If I don't have shadows, I can't blend with them.”
He frowns. “You’re going to make this difficult, aren’t you?”
I toss my hands in the air. “What do you want me to do? I can’t create darkness. What kind of gothic Fox do you think I am?”
Gray shakes his head, but a smile tugs at his lips. “Fine. Let’s start with persuasion and charisma then, since you seem to be most comfortable with them. Later we’ll find somewhere dark and practice cloaking.”
Is that a promise?
He stands in front of me, squaring his shoulders. “We’ll work on the strength of your charms. Remember, I can sense your magic, but you won’t be able to influence me, so don’t hold back.”
I lick my lips and nod.
“Tell me to pick up the keys on the desk,” he says.
“Why do you want the keys?”
“I don’t—I just want you to tell me to pick them up.”
What a lame request. I could think of something far more interesting.
Gray must be able to tell I think it’s ridiculous because his smile finally breaks free, and he lets out a chuckle that sounds a whole lot like a growl. “It’s not about the stupid keys—I want you to practice telling me to get them without throwing too much magic in the request like you did earlier.”
Okay. A little bit of magic.
“Gray,” I say, adding persuasion to the words, “get me the keys.”
He clenches his jaw. After a moment, he shakes his head, clearing it. “You could have caused a tidal wave with that much.”
“It wasn’t that much,” I argue.
“It was.”
I glare at him, but it only makes him grin. He meets my gaze, making sure I’m giving him my full attention. “Imagine your magic is a handful of birdseed—”
“Birdseed?” I interrupt.
Without even hesitating, he presses his palm over my mouth, physically shutting me up. “You have a handful of birdseed, all right? One little bird sits in front of you, one solitary bird. Are you going to throw the entire handful of seed at him?”
I yank his hand away from my mouth, barely resisting the urge to bite him. “I suppose that depends on how hungry he is.”
“No, you wouldn’t. You would toss him a little. If you threw all of it, you’d overwhelm him.”
“Are you easily overwhelmed, Gray?” I purr…tossing an entire handful of cha
risma birdseed at him.
And even though he’s immune, the big, bad Wolf closes his eyes, looking the tiniest bit affected.
“Way too much,” he says after a moment. “One more time. Use your charisma again, like you just did. It’s stronger than your persuasion, and therefore likely harder to control.”
“How can you tell it’s stronger?”
“Because you reduced three full-grown men to blithering idiots at the brewery.”
I nod, standing a little straighter. Persuasion is a command, but charisma is seduction.
“Gray,” I say, making my voice a velvet caress—but not too velvety. More like cheap velveteen, or that stretchy stuff they use for Halloween costumes. “Bring me the keys on the desk.”
“Better,” he says, slowly exhaling a controlled breath. “Do it again.”
I lower my voice as if that will help lessen the magic, and repeat, “Bring me the keys on the desk.”
He nods. “Yes, that was good.”
“Can you feel it at all? The tug of it?”
Looking a little wary, Gray shakes his head.
“You can, can’t you?” I grin because I don’t need Jonathan’s talents to know I’m right. It’s written all over his face.
“Yes,” he finally admits. “But I can dismiss it, and that’s the difference.”
“Do it to me.”
His eyebrows jump. “What?”
“I want to feel the full force of your charisma. No one’s ever used it on me, and I’m curious how it feels.”
“You won’t be susceptible.”
“I know. That’s why it’s okay.”
Looking a little uncomfortable, Gray steps forward. He sets his hands on my sides, drawing me close.
My pulse jumps, and I look down, startled he’s touching me. “What are you doing?”
“My persuasion, my charisma—they’re both stronger with touch.”
“Wolves are a little limited,” I say, absently wondering if this is a bad idea.
His fingers tighten on my sides. “You want this, don’t you?”
Or a really good idea.
“I do.” My voice is so breathy, I might as well be Marilyn Monroe.
He leans down, brushes my curled hair behind my shoulder, and grazes his lips against the sensitive skin in front of my ear. Before I can tell him he’s cheating, he whispers, “Madeline, sweetheart, get me the keys off the table.”
The magic is scorching. It tingles my skin, begs me to fetch those damn keys.
I jerk away, breaking the link. I stare at Gray, wide-eyed, practically panting. “That’s a lot of birdseed.”
He tips back his head and laughs. It’s a deep sound, joyful and warm, and it captivates me.
“Let’s move on to ‘bunny in a hat tricks,’” he says once he controls himself, using my phrasing for sleight of hand from this morning.
That’s probably a good idea.
For the next hour, I practice hiding a tube of lipstick under plastic hotel cups and twirling them about, controlling light to disguise the lipstick’s true placement. Out of all the stealth magic traits, I’ve practiced this one the least. It’s not something that happens by accident when you’re feeling emotional. It’s a skill that must be honed, practiced.
“There are human con artists better at this than you,” Gray teases as he finds the lipstick once again.
“I’m not sure why we need to bother with this,” I say, frustrated.
It’s not easy to bend light and subtle shadows, to obscure things as you spirit them away.
I snatch the lipstick from his hand. “I don’t plan to spend my time in back alleys, whispering for tourists to come take a chance in my game of skill.”
He studies me for a moment and then pushes the cups aside. “I had a friend a while ago, went to school with him. He was from an upstanding Fox family—a good family, even if they were cutthroat business types. Yet he ran more than one covert moneymaking scheme at the Knights’ Guild Academy. How is it you’ve resisted the pull?”
It’s evident from the hard look on Gray’s face that he and this man have some dark history, but it’s not the time to ask him about it now.
“When I was young, Father told me that it didn’t matter what type of magic I carried, it was up to me to make good decisions. That I must consider the consequences for myself and others around me.” I meet his eyes. “People—humans and Aparians—are selfish creatures. Foxes are simply born with tools that are easily used for evil. It doesn’t mean the magic must be utilized that way. And it doesn’t make the other factions more virtuous.”
“But do you feel the pull?”
“Sometimes,” I admit, holding his eyes. “But so do you. You can’t tell me that just because you were born a noble Wolf, you haven’t done things you shouldn’t, haven’t thought things you shouldn’t think.”
After a moment, he nods. He looks away as if something is haunting him. I think he’s going to say more, but he stays silent.
Finally, I leave the couch, needing to change the subject. I clasp my hands over my head, stretching. “Are we done?”
“Until tomorrow.”
“Isn’t magic like strength training?” I lower my arms. “Shouldn’t you take a day off in between?”
Gray smiles, standing as well. “Sorry, princess. That’s not how it works.”
His phone chimes, drawing his attention from me. He looks at the screen and frowns.
“Something wrong?” I ask, wondering if Jonathan and Eric have found trouble. Jonathan is proving to be good at that.
“No,” he says. “Not really.”
I wait for him to explain. When he doesn’t, I’m nosy and ask, “Well, what is it?”
Gray pockets the phone. “The girls Jonathan and Eric met last night have a friend, and they want me to go out with them tonight.”
“Oh.”
Cue slimy feeling in the pit of my stomach.
“They said you can come too.”
Oh, that sounds fun. All the guys paired off—and then me.
“No, I’m good,” I say.
He looks up. “Then I’ll tell them to go without me.”
I wave my hand in the air, refusing to meet his eyes. “No, you should go. We can’t work tomorrow anyway. You might as well have some fun tonight.”
“Are you sure?” He gives me a quizzical frown.
“Of course. Go.” Without meaning to, I add a little persuasion to it.
“Madeline,” he warns.
I hold my hands up in surrender. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
Honestly, I didn’t realize how often I use it.
“What are you going to do?” he asks, still frowning.
“I’ll order room service, probably take a long bath.”
I swear his eyes darken when I say the last part, which naturally makes my mind wander places it shouldn’t go.
Absently, I realize I haven’t thought of Finn for most of the day. And though he’s a cheating pig, I feel a little guilty—like I’m the unfaithful one because I don’t miss him like I should.
After a moment, Gray nods and heads toward the bathroom. I flop onto the couch, feeling sorry for myself.
When Gray emerges ten minutes later, freshly shaved, dressed in a new button-up, charcoal-colored shirt paired with dark wash jeans, I blink. “I thought you were going to a lake party?”
“No, we’re meeting at some club at one of the casinos.” He studies me. “You sure you don’t want to come?”
“A Fox in a dark club?” I give him a weak laugh. “I don’t think so. Gotta stay away from temptation and all that.”
“A Fox in a dark club does sound tempting,” he says, his eyes never leaving mine.
Good thing I’m sitting down.
“We’ll be back before midnight,” he promises as he turns to leave.
I pull my legs up on the couch, pretending to lounge as I pick up the TV remote. “Don’t come back early on my account.”
He g
lances back, studying me for several moments. Finally, he says, “Night, princess.”
And then he’s out the door—off to meet Skanky Bikini Girl Number Three. She’s going to drink too much, dance with him, run her hands up his chest, whisper invitations—
I stand abruptly, startling Charles, and stalk to the bedroom. I come back out wearing a perfectly tasteful halter top sundress in summer blue and a pair of sky-high, cherry-red heels that do such amazing things to my calves, they are illegal in three states.
Okay, they aren’t. But they should be. And my mother doesn’t know I own them. How they made it into my suitcase, I’ll never know.
Okay, I do. I wanted to wear them for Gray. Sue me.
I pair the ensemble with a thin, matching belt, swipe on a deep shade of red lipstick, give my curled hair a toss, and march out the door, calling goodbye to my cat.
Then I come back in, remembering I still have to feed that cat. But after I scoop Pedigreed Perfection into Charles’s dish, I march out the door. And this time, I don’t go back.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
As I take the elevator down, I browse my phone, looking for clubs in Tahoe. There are more than I expect, though most are probably just glorified bars. The one closest to our resort is in The Sugar Pine, just a few blocks away.
Hopefully that’s where the guys went.
I walk down the road, enjoying the pleasant evening. It’s growing dusky, but it’s not quite dark yet, and the air is still warm. People glance my way, noticing me in my heels and bright dress, but I keep my head high and my eyes on the casino ahead of me.
When I reach the entrance, a well-dressed man in his thirties holds the glass door for me. His eyes sweep over me, and he gives me an inviting smile.
“Thank you,” I say politely, hurrying past him.
Unfortunately, he follows me in, matching my pace. “Is this your first visit to The Sugar Pine?”
He leaves me no choice but to participate in the conversation or completely blow him off. Since manners have been drilled into me since birth, I say, “It is, yes.”
His hair is blond and thick, and he’s handsome for his age. But since he was getting his driver’s license when I was learning my ABCs, I'm not interested. Especially when my ex’s brother is somewhere in the building, drawing me like a moth to a flame.
Guild of Secrets Page 11
