Book of Love (12 page)

“
You should buckle.” His
breath fell across my face, smelling like sugar and mint. He leaned
back, one hand on the wheel. The car lurched as he shifted into
reverse.

I cleared my throat, my face hot with
emotion. “Thanks.” I swallowed, my hands gripping either side of
the seat, my nails digging into the leather.

“
I just like my passengers
to be safe.” He winked.

My whole body was trembling. I needed to
distract myself and calm down. “So, you said you were from Denver?”
We drove out of the lot and turned left.

Max nodded.

“
That’s not too
far.”

He shook his head. “No, it’s not. I like it
here, though. It’s colder. Besides, the snowboarding is good.”

I perked up. “You snowboard?”

He smiled. “This is Colorado; of course I
snowboard.”

“
I love
snowboarding,”
I said quietly. Wes
and I usually went together, but perhaps things would
change—perhaps Max would take me for a romantically blissful day. I
was daydreaming again. I quickly washed it away in my attempt to
remain attentive. I looked at him instead.

Max was smiling as though thinking of
something great, perhaps thinking the same thing as me.

“
You said you have family
here?” I ventured. I knew most of the families through my mother
and her work at the historical Hotel Colorado.

“
Yes… the Gordon family?”
He seemed nervous to say it, as though it would scare
me.

“
The
Gordon family?
You mean, Erik
Gordon? The historian? The man whose parents
founded
this place?” I knew who he
was all too well. His books were legends in the world of magickal
history, not to mention America’s West. I read every paper he’d
ever written, hungered for his every word, hoping it could tell me
anything about what had happened to me, and why I dreamed of death.
His particular attention to the Fairy Caves was my
favorite.

“
Yes.
He’s my…
grandfather.”

“
Really?” I was ecstatic,
likely showing more excitement than I should. Max didn’t fit the
mold, and I would have never guessed. The sudden void of knowledge
I once had for Max filled immediately. “So you’re a Gordon?” Since
I loved history, I found this fact almost too intriguing to contain
my excitement. “Do you believe in his writings?” I
blurted.

Max laughed. “Yeah, sure. Don’t we all want
to believe it?”

He had no idea how much
I
did
believe it,
whether I wanted to or not. “Yeah.”

Max looked at me with a spark of intrigue,
but I pretended not to notice. “I’ll take you to meet him sometime,
if you like?”

I nodded with enthusiasm. “Yes, I
would!”

He laughed. “Most girls don’t care who my
family is. Apparently you seem like an expert.”

“
I am,” I gave him a sly
glance, finally finding an edge on him, though his reference to
other girls sparked a hint of jealousy. I was giddy at this
point.

Max lifted one brow. “See,
now you’re starting to take that whole staring thing to a whole new
level—
Stalker.”

My mouth playfully fell
open. “I’m not a
stalker.”
I shook my head.

He shrugged.
“Whatever,
Stalker.
You said so yourself. You’re an expert when it comes to my
family.
”

I laughed. “Don’t call me that!” I gave him
a teasing nudge on the arm.

He grinned, running a hand
through his hair. “Alright then… I’ll call you,
Beautiful.”

I pressed my lips together
and blushed, hiding the smile that wanted to creep across my
face.
How had I gotten so lucky?
I tried to get back on subject. “Has your
Grandfather ever seen magick?”

Max turned the car onto my street. “I
couldn’t say.”

His answer seemed vague.
What was he hiding? Perhaps he had been sworn to
secrecy—
oh, this was so great!

His grandfather had been the real world
version of Indiana Jones. Erik Gordon had traveled all over the
globe in search of artifacts that held magickal power and biblical
importance. I glared at Max, hoping that if I looked hard enough,
perhaps his head would pop open and I could learn what he knew.

He shook his head, his hand sliding casually
across the wheel.

I frowned. “What’s so funny?”

He stopped laughing.
“You’re still staring at me,
Beautiful.”

I let an annoyed sound
escape my mouth. “Could you quit with that! I’m not your
stalker,
trust me.” I
thought of Liz. “And I’m not
beautiful.”

Max pursed his lips, refusing to listen.

“
I was just staring at you
because I was thinking of your grandfather,” I added, finding it a
good excuse.

“
Why are you so curious?”
His eyes narrowed as though accusing me again, but his face was
amused. He kept his gaze forward, not once looking in my
direction.

“
I—” I stumbled over my
words, not wanting to reveal that I cared as much as I did. “I just
think it’s interesting, and risky. Your grandfather stirs a lot of
controversy, is all. The Vatican likely has him on their hit
list—if there is such a thing.”

“
He does have enemies, but
the Vatican isn’t one of them.”

I tilted my head. “Really? I would figure
they’d be the first.”

Max was still amused by my confusion. “Not
if they’re the one sending him a paycheck.”

I gasped. “They hired him?”

Max eyed me as though to say that it was a
secret. I grinned, enthralled to learn something so covert. He
turned into my driveway, and I realized I hadn’t even told him
where I lived.

“
Um…
how did you—”

“
It’s a small town,” he cut
me off.

I nodded. My mother opened
the door, noticing the unfamiliar car. I exhaled and bowed my head,
wondering if she had been standing there behind the door for the
sole purpose of embarrassing me.
“Great.”

Max shut off the engine. “What’s wrong?”

I grumbled. “Emily. She’s not with me, so my
mother is going to wonder where she is, who you are, and why I’m
not riding with Wes.” I glanced at his tattoos, knowing that was an
added factor, but saying it out loud was rude.

Max laughed lightly, looking at his arms as
I was. “Then introduce me. I’ll explain it to her myself.” His
comment sounded like a challenge, as though he were used to the
disapproval of a mother.

I looked at him with
alarm, knowing that it wasn’t the disapproval I was particularly
scared of. What scared me most was that if I introduced a boy to my
mother, I’d never hear the end of it. She wanted me to date, and at
this point, I don’t think she cared
who.
I know his tattoos made me
nervous, but after learning about his family, he was a
literal
shoo-in.
Part of the reason why I’d avoided boys was in order to avoid
hearing from her. You’d think that considering my mother’s past,
and the age at which she’d had me, that she would lock me in a
closet and tell me that boys were a product of the devil, but that
was hardly the case.

“
Come on, introduce me,” he
urged.

His blue eyes searched mine, his face turned
to reveal the dimple on his left cheek. I couldn’t resist him.

Emily:

“
Wes.
You
—I think you just…” I couldn’t say it. I reached toward one
of the feathers on the seat beside me, picking it up and holding it
in my hand. It was still warm, still a part of Wes.

He exhaled, his hands shaking as they rested
on the blanket covering his lap. “Em, I know what you’re going to
say and—”

“
How long has this been
going on?” I pressed him for answers.

“
This has never happened
before. I’ll tell you that.” His expression was so earnest, that I
had to believe him.

Wes rubbed his hands in his lap, the blanket
barely covering his legs. His clothes were in a pile on the floor,
but he hadn’t yet bothered to put them back on. I couldn’t help but
stare at his chest. He was much stronger than he used to be, and it
only made me like him more.

“
It has to be magick,
Wes.”

There—I said it. I’d listened to my sister
drone on and on about magick and mythology. It was her obsession,
and it was part of what added to Jane’s nerdy personality. At the
same time, though, the book I’d found in the attic made me believe
it myself—not to mention my own talent.

Wes stared at me for a
moment, and then nodded. “Yeah.
Magick.
Whatever, Em. You’re
starting to sound like your sister.” He laughed.

My eyes rolled impulsively. “What else can
it be, Wes?” I leaned forward, feeling the passion in my voice.

His smile faded and I knew he was
considering it. What proof did he need? He had just turned into a
raven!

“
Well…” Wes didn’t want to
say it. He paused, his face changing to one of fear. “Don’t tell
Jane.”

I laughed, but soon the mood changed as the
thoughts in his head grew frantic. “Does she know about what’s been
going on?” I asked.

Wes continued to play with
his hands in his lap, the answer reaching his thoughts before it
reached his lips. “Only about the pain, but clearly, Jane doesn’t
know about this part. I don’t think I
want
her to know.” There was battle
ensuing in his mind, wondering if telling Jane was worth it. My
sister took him for granted. Wes had tried to confide in her, to
find comfort where Jane didn’t grant him any. He looked up at me.
“Thank you, Emily. I never thought that—”

“
That I could be normal?” I
finished his thought for him. No one ever saw me as a real person,
but underneath it all, I was. I needed to be loved just like anyone
else.

Wes laughed. “Yeah. I guess you could say
that. I always though that you were just—”

“
Well,
you were always right. I’m not normal, but I am a
real person.”
I smiled.
“But like I said before, when I saved you from class. I
heard
you… Correction…”
I searched for the right words. “I
hear
you.” I tapped my head. “Wes, I
hear voices all the time, thoughts and images. Like right this
moment—I know you’re worried that I’d heard the things you thought
when remarking about me earlier.” I blushed, unable to look him in
the eye. It was one thing to secretly know what Wes thought of me,
it was another to admit that I’d heard them.

“
You
could hear me?”
We were both
blushing now, and the red that was dotting his cheek bones gave him
a vulnerable hue that contrasted with his admittedly beefy
physique. “You heard me even when I was—
that thing?”

I nodded gravely.

“
Is that why you always
finish people’s sentences?”

I laughed, noticing the intrigued look on
his face. “I suppose, though I don’t always realize I’m doing
that.”

Wes leaned back against the seat and we sat
for a moment, saying nothing. I looked at the old house, tracing
the rails and lavish design. The ravens had gone now, and the
forest was silent.

Wes laughed suddenly, breaking the silence.
“We’re all a bit screwed up, aren’t we?”

I laughed in return, finding there was no
other way to accept what was happening. “But why? What is it?”

Wes shrugged. I settled in my seat, finally
feeling comfortable and no longer fearing another strange
occurrence—he seemed to be over it. I searched for the keys,
finding them on the floor and placing them in the ignition. I
started the engine and placed my hand on the shifter. Wes placed
his hand on mine, stopping me.

I froze and looked up at
him. His hand was warm, his fingers resting over my own. I
swallowed, the immediate connection to his thoughts too personal. I
pulled my hand out from under his. Wes was frightened and I could
also see it in his eyes. I searched his face, my body screaming to
be near him, but I knew it wasn’t right. He loved Jane, but inside
his thoughts, it wasn’t Jane he had been thinking of;
it was me.

“
Our secret, okay?” He
said, his eyes locked on mine. The fear in his face had lightened.
“I like that idea,” he added.

His golden eyes gave away his emotion,
despite my ability to hear his thoughts. He also knew what he had
forced me to see in those eyes—fear, vulnerability, and
uncertainty—but his outward appearance remained confident.

Wes’s hand remained on the
shifter, preventing me from changing gears. I was having a hard
time looking him in the eyes, but he didn’t stop staring. I was
afraid what would happen if I let someone in, if I let them see
me.
But this was Wes!
He was the one person I’d always wanted to know who I was. I
bit back my fears and allowed myself to look at him, despite how
hard it was for me to absorb the fact that his thoughts were still
consumed with me—my face, my hair, my eyes, and best of all,
my
lips.