Chosen Page 5

  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 ha
ll 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.

  “Now,” he said, wrapping an arm behind her back and pulling her close, “let me rephrase my question from earlier. Did you sense anything odd about the guards? Did you see their auras?”

  “I didn’t look.” She’d been too enamored to think about it. “Why?”

  Cayne shrugged, again mysterious.

  “Hey—that’s the elevators down there. Score. But before we meet back up with them, I have a question for you: Are you going to be okay leaving me here while you guys go out and look for the tiger?”

  “Of course not,” Cayne said stiffly. “I never said I would.”

  “Okay, well I’m thinking maybe you should do another fly-over.”

  The elevator opened and Cayne tugged her inside, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her in between his legs. Judging by the serious look his face, he was locked into the conversation and happened to simply want her close. But suddenly all Julia could think about was how he’d felt, under her, on that couch…and how every day seemed to prove, in some fresh new way, that they might not have the time together that she wanted for them.

  She rose up on her tip-toes and kissed his lips—and Cayne took the bait. He groaned and pushed her gently into one of the corners, pressing his body against hers, trailing warm kisses down her neck. “Do you think—” he breathed— “that I would let anyone take you from me?”

  “No,” she gasped.

  He nicked her lip with his teeth, and Julia squeezed his neck. “Do a flyover,” she said. “I’m—” he kissed her— “tired of waiting.”

  His hands, on her hips, moved lower. “I would hate to keep you waiting,” he said wickedly.

  When the doors opened, Cayne gave her a naughty grin and smoothed her hair out of her face.

  “I’ll do a flyover,” he said. “What’s the point of exercising restraint when you’re already caught?”

  She rubbed her lips and wondered the same thing—about a much more pleasant topic. Holding Cayne’s hand, she shut her eyes and pictured them together. Really together. As a normal couple.

  If they could just find the tiger on the roof.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “I don’t know where he is,” Carlin said, crossing her arms, “but if he wants a place in this room, he needs to come back now.”

  Julia arched a brow, and Meredith wrapped her arms around Carlin’s shoulders. “Car, Car, Car… Your hostile emotions are giving me a headache.”

  Meredith was joking, but the mention of ‘headache’ made Julia flinch. She guzzled more bottled water, hoping the Advil she’d taken would break down fast. Like…faster than the time it would take for Cayne to notice that her head was hurting again, just a teensy little bit.

  “I hate to be the one to say it, but this is slightly sketchy,” Drew said, not sounding at all like he hated saying it.

  “What do you mean by sketchy?” Cayne asked, in what to Julia sounded like a normal voice.

  Drew must have imagined an edge. His tone got a little more hostile and he shifted into a fighting stance, ticking points off on his fingers. “Let’s go over this one more time: I lived at the compound all my life, and I never saw him there. Then suddenly, after a huge attack, he shows up, and he wants to come with us? Julia doesn’t recognize his aura, and he claims he’s some kind of experiment? Which I know none of us buy.”

  Carlin opened her mouth, but Drew cut her off.

  “Those of us who aren’t crushing.”

  “Hey
!”

  “Oh please. And Julia… he said she’s The One. He knew what her headache

  meant—” Julia flinched a little, tightening her jaw against the pressure/pain inside her skull— “but he never told us how he knew. When he met Julia he told her he worked for The Three—”

  “Actually he called himself a consultant.”

  “Yeah, well I don’t see much difference. And how do we know he isn’t still ‘consulting’?”

  The room was silent; everyone was frowning.

  “Those are valid points,” Cayne agreed, “but if he is working for The Three, he’s had plenty of chances to help deliver Julia back to them. I agree, it’s odd that he hasn’t shown back up, but I’m not too concerned. The security here is excellent. And, if it came to it, I could fly away with Julia. Edan has never been a threat to her.”

  “Speaking of flying…” Julia braced herself to speak for Cayne, but he beat her to it, leaning forward in the huge wing-backed chair where he sat in front of the fireplace like the king of a castle.

  “I’d like to do a fly-over. I’ve shown my wings once without it causing trouble, and it would help us find the tiger on the landing pad sooner. I could go at night, and I could cover the area in an hour or so. Helicopter landing pads are easily to spot from the sky. Julia will come with me. If we don’t find the tiger or anything that resembles it, then we can try another area.”

  “Shhhh!” Carlin slashed her hand through the air, and she dove for the phone, a small, black cordless thing with an extremely quiet ringer.

  “Hello,” she answered, then broke into a grin—that faded fast.

  “It’s him,” Mer reported, zeroing in on Carlin’s feelings.

  A few seconds later, Carlin hung up the phone.

  “What did he say?” Mer asked Carlin.

  “He’s at a hostel.”

  “Here?”

  Carlin nodded.

  “There are hostels here?”

  “He met a girl,” Carlin said woefully, “and he’s followed her to a hostel on the resort grounds.”

  Cayne made an approving face, so classically ‘Martian’ that Julia smiled a little. “When is he coming back?”