Chosen (6 page)

Julia had managed to stop the sounds coming from her own throat and was trying to talk her mind and body out of their revolt. Yes, Jess’s guards were very, very good-looking. They were tall, with the kind of shoulders you didn’t usually find outside an NFL defensive line and the kind of faces you didn’t find outside of fantasies. It was true their backsides were tight enough to bounce a quarter off of and clad in just-the-right-amount-of-tight gray ski pants. And the one standing sideways had a package that…

Oh dear God, did she just critique his…

“No. No,
no
.”

Julia shook her head, stealing a guilty glance at Cayne, who was looking at her with his brows clenched and his mouth twisted. She told herself to
stop
, but they had such slim, grab-able hips. And their hair…

It was all of the Edan variety. Luscious. Mmm, just beckoning your fingers.

Body Guard #1 wore his pale blond locks down to his shoulders; unlike most man hair, this guy’s tresses actually seemed brushed. The second one sported jet black spikes that shone like raven’s wings; they were neither stiff nor sharp, and rather than looking silly and overdone, they simply served to emphasize his breathtaking face; the third had a wildly curly strawberry-blond mane that hung into his eyes—deep gold-brown and
bright against his mocha skin.

She knew she shouldn’t be looking at other guys, but the three of them together…well, they were something else.

The thought echoed in Julia’s head, and then—in an instant—the moment was over. Her body throbbed like she’d just run a mile or two, and her sweaty skin felt flushed, but she felt enough like herself again to be mortified that she’d done a (literal!) drive-and-drool in front of Cayne, who still had his eyes narrowed at the guards.

Julia rubbed her temples and looked around at the rest of her friends. Drew chewed his lip and looked down at his feet, which were tapping an awkward rhythm on the floorboard. Both Carlin and Meredith seemed to be recovering from their own droolfests. Julia glanced at Edan, expecting some smart remark, and was shocked to see him looking…livid.

“Edan…what’s the matter?”

Cayne was looking at him, too, openly curious; none of them had ever seen easy-going Edan mad.

Cayne’s quizzical look seemed to snap Edan from some kind of trance. He jerked his hand into his pocket, coming up with a black snakeskin wallet he rifled through. He pulled out an amazing number of bills and counted them quickly, inhaling deeply as he did. Then he stuck them back into his wallet and pressed his mouth flat.

“Bastards,” he muttered.

“Who?” Carlin asked.

“At the café. They didn’t give me all of my change!”

Meredith snorted. “You mean you paid them too much?”

Edan shrugged, rubbing his rock star hair and looking…well, he looked a little ragged.

“Are you feeling okay?” Julia asked.

“Fine,” he growled, then shot her an apologetic grin. “Even immortals feel shitty sometimes.”

“Are you really an immortal?” Carlin asked, raptly.

“Cayne’s not,” Julia put in, for reference purposes.

Edan glanced at Cayne, whose turn it was to look uncomfortable—though Julia wasn’t sure about what. Something flitted across Edan’s eyes—something that looked a lot like regret—and then he smiled tightly and shook his head. “I’ll find out soon if I don’t get my hands on a Keurig.”

“Oh, so that’s why you feel no good.” Carlin rifled through her bag and produced a little packet. “Instant coffee. Pour it in a mug.”

Edan winced, but he nodded and stuck it in his pocket.

“You have a Keurig coffee maker?” Meredith asked. “We weren’t allowed to have coffee at the compound!”

Edan shrugged. “I also didn’t have any friends.”

“I still don’t understand how I never met you,” Drew declared. “I never even saw you.”

“Fate conspires,” Edan said, his eyebrows wiggling.

“You guys, we need to go inside.” Meredith was drumming her fingers on the wheel, and Julia noticed Cayne had turned completely around in his seat and was doing his old Cayne-as-watchdog routine.

When she remembered it was really all for
her
, she felt a half sick, half pleasant rush. How ridiculous was it that she’d grown up an unwanted orphan when she was really some special— Oh no. She swallowed hard and shook her head. She would not allow herself to think she was special.

Drew and Mer left to check-in, and Cayne ordered Julia into the driver’s seat in case of an emergency, flee-now kind of situation—an order she resented but followed after sticking out her tongue. A few minutes later, Drew and Meredith were back with a bunch of little silver keys, instructions on where to park the van (an underground parking deck Edan offered to find), and bookings in adjoining rooms 503 and 505.

“How’d you do it?” Carlin asked. “I thought we would need a reservation.”

“Julia and I should go in first and look around,” Cayne interrupted.

Meredith nodded. “You can do that when we all go in. Which can be now.”

*

The fiercely guarded House of the Gods, St. Moritz looked no more threatening than an ice cream parlor, Julia decided after she and Cayne had walked around for almost an hour.

Without his merry mind-control powers, Cayne had had to participate in real human (okay, human-Nephilim) interaction. Julia had been shocked to watch him chat it up with one of the security chiefs—a short, bearded guy named Henry, who opened an ordinary-looking pea coat and revealed a shocking arsenal of handguns and knives.

Somehow the conversation about security (more of a grilling from Cayne than a conversation) turned to World of Warcraft, so Julia decided to stroll around the large lobby. A huge chandelier that looked like a collection of icicles hung over the foyer, whose marble floor was emblazoned with a large onyx top hat. The gleaming, silvery reception desk was flanked by two massive potted firs. Behind the desk, a teenage guy with curly, light brown hair and baby blue eyes was typing something on a laptop; she got the distinct impression that he wasn’t working. Maybe he was playing WoW. As she wondered, he glanced up and gave her a shy grin, dimples showing on each side of his mouth.

She returned his smile, but in a reserved, not-flirting kind of way. Cayne picked that moment to join her, apparently having sent Henry on his way (after getting an invite to a WoW-a-thon in the staff game room later that night).  

“Nice guy,” Cayne said as he laced his fingers through hers.

And Julia was shocked at what a nice guy Cayne had been. A real live Regular Joe.

“What’re you looking at?” he teased.

She squeezed his hand. “When did my ornery Nephilim become so civilized?”

Cayne smiled wickedly and said, “He’s becoming a better imitator.”

“Can you imitate a tour guide? I’d love to look around more.”

He bowed. “At your service, my lady.”

“I think that’s a knight, but I’ll take it.” Julia grinned. In all the excitement—okay, horror—lately, she’d forgotten how cute Cayne could be, when he wasn’t being bossy and insufferable.

 “What attractions interest you, my lady?” he asked her as they wandered down a hall that, judging by its chlorine smell, led to an indoor pool.

“The gift shop. Or restaurant or café. I need an Aero bar.”

“You don’t want any more Zürcher Geschnetzeltes?”

“I sure don’t. I want an Aero bar, and then I want you guys to leave me here and go find that tiger.”

“So we can get you fixed up and you can run away with me?”

Julia grinned. “Where would you take me?”

“Where do you want to go?”

“Somewhere warm. I think I’m in the mood for a beach.”

“These wings can take you anywhere.”

They passed two iron chairs with a tiny, flower-topped table in the middle, and the first-floor meeting rooms gave way to a huge, octagonal room with different little vendors situated in each wall. A high-end clothes store occupied two walls; Julia wondered how long it would take Car to sniff it out. A third sold ski supplies, including pretty, soft-looking ski suits, and she spotted a luggage shop, a bookstore, and a florist before she spied the food joints: a chocolate store and an ice cream shop, and a big sign with directions to all the other eateries within the resort.

 While Julia gobbled her Aero bar, she read the sign: “They’ve got a pub with fish and chips! I love the chips. They’re really fries, you know.” She smiled at her mental image of eating there with Cayne one night—and then she remembered they weren’t here to have fun.

“Doesn’t matter, though,” she murmured. “We just need to find the tiger.”

Cayne tucked a long, dark hock of hair behind her ear. “My impatient Chosen. We will.” His arm went around her waist. “How’s your head?”

Julia smacked him. “Better when we find the tiger. Let’s go find our posse.”

Cayne took her hand again, and before Julia realized what he was doing, he’d tugged her down a hall she hadn’t even noticed between the bookstore and the flower shop and pulled her into a little nook with a leather couch.

“I’ve missed you,” he growled.

Then he pulled her down onto his lap, brushed her hair out of her face, and kissed her—good and hard.

His hard arms wound around her, pulling her chest to his, and his hand tunneled through her hair, pulling gently as his lips and tongue explored her own.

“God—
Julia
.”

Below her limp, overheated self, Cayne’s big body was taut and actually seemed to be shaking. When she pulled her mouth from his, panting and half-starved for air, she rested her forehead on his cheek. “I missed you more.”

And he kissed her again, this time more slowly, like he was tasting to savor, like he was burning her into his memory.

It went on like that for way too long, until they were both panting like they’d run a marathon, and Julia’s heart was beating painfully, and she couldn’t believe she’d just made out with Cayne in a semi-public place.

Because Julia was worried about the state of her hair post make-out, they took the hall they were on, which seemed like a more discreet route to the elevators but turned out to have as many attractions as anywhere else.

They passed several dining rooms, a billiards room, and a smoking room. They even saw an art exhibit, showcasing a flock of two-dozen penguins, each made by a different artist out of a different material—papier-mâché, glass, something she hoped wasn’t poo.

She glanced at Cayne, wondering what his super-Nephilim nose told him, but he was frowning. “What’s wrong?”

He shook his head. “That woman’s guards…”

Ohhhh
. Julia nodded, cheeks warm, tail between her legs. “I’m sorry about that.”

“You stared for almost two minutes.”

“I’m sorry, Cayne. It didn’t mean anything. I really don’t know why I—”

His hand squeezed her waist. “I’m not asking for an apology. What I want to know is what affect did they have on you?”

Julia’s traitorous cheeks flamed again. “What do you mean?” she hedged.

“I think you know.”

She was fumbling for an answer that wouldn’t sound like a lie but maybe wouldn’t be the whole truth when a waiter passed, wearing roller blades, charcoal slacks, and a hot pink button-up with a pinstriped vest on top. He held out a tray. “Do you like the snack?” he asked in stilted English.

Julia pointed to the pink glass, surprised to find her stomach growling. “Is that a strawberry shake?”

“This is…daiquiri. I can get virgin?”

Cayne nodded, pulling out some bills. The waiter pocketed them and held up his finger, then skated into what looked like a nearby supply closet.

“You haven’t answered my question,” Cayne said, peering down at her.

“No, I’ve never had a daiquiri,” she smiled, “so this will be a first.”    

Cayne sighed. “I have a reason for the question. I’m not angry, Julia. I don’t get jealous.”

“Why not?” He didn’t worry about her wanting other guys because he knew she wasn’t capable of finding anyone else? Julia shook her head. That wasn’t true. She wasn’t that girl—not anymore. The foster kid no one wanted to partner with for class projects or sit by on field trips. The girl who wore cute jeans but never got ogled. She was a perfectly respectable catch. A good one, even!

“I don’t get jealous,” Cayne said darkly, “because I think you’d be better off with someone else.”

Julia shoved him gently. “C’mon. Enough with the dreary Edward stuff. You want me to be with you, otherwise you wouldn’t be with me—at least I don’t think so.” She dropped her voice, so it was slightly lower than a whisper and leaned to speak into his ear. “Do you think so little of yourself that you automatically assume ‘someone else’ would be so much better?”

Cayne glanced down the hall, toward the lobby. “I doubt many of these boys—”

 “Were adopted by a psychopath. Do you think in your situation a lot of other people would have just said ‘Why no thank you, just leave me on the mountain to die.’”

His jaw clenched, and Julia worried she’d been insensitive—she just couldn’t wrap her head around thinking of Cayne as sensitive. “I’m sorry—” she started, but his hand closed around her wrist and he pulled her closer, so close their foreheads almost touched.

“Everything I’ve done, it’s still here—” he pointed to his head. His mouth turned down, his brows pulling together in regret. “Sometimes I worry that just thinking of you will make you dirty.”

“Cayne—no way.” She had to interrupt herself because the waiter glided back, handing her a daiquiri she no longer cared about. She took it, nodded while doing a horrible impression of a smile, and he glided down the hall.

Julia took Cayne’s hand and led him down a hall that intersected theirs; the right-hand wall was made of thick, curved glass; outside, skiers speckled the slopes. “Once we find a way to get rid of the headache thing—”
the leash
, she thought with shudder— “we’re going to try to live a normal life. Together.”

He nodded.

“And you’ll stay with me?” she asked, breath-held.

“If that’s what you want.”

“It is.”

“Then it’s what I want.”

She smiled, looking out the window at a couple walking arm-in-arm in snow suits, hauling their skis to a medium-sized dome wrapped with an enclosed deck: the ski lodge. What if that was her and Cayne? Was it ridiculous to even hope for that? Every time she thought about The One and what it meant… She clutched Cayne’s hand.