The Brotherhood of the Snake (Return of the Ancients Book 2) (16 page)

“Real?” He frowned a little, studying my reaction with surprise. “Would you expect Cor’s pen to be anything but real?” He appeared faintly insulted.

Cor? It took me a moment to recognize the name of the Fae’s most beloved king, his grandfather. I shoved the pen back into his hands as if it were on fire. “This is an heirloom!”

Raising a brow, he caught my fingers and closed them over the case. “It’s yours, not mine. The pen has chosen you. You can’t refuse it, little pixie.”

I flushed to hear him call me that and looked down at the pen, awestruck. “Is it a magic pen?”

His gray eyes twinkled at that. Leaning close, he whispered in my ear. “All pens are magic. They weave wondrous tales, spinning them out of the air to take us all on magical flights of fancy.”

I scarcely heard his words. I was too conscious of how close he was and the fact that my skin tingled under his touch.

Not quite knowing what possessed me, I boldly turned to face him, moving closer. I could feel his breath on my lips. He couldn’t have been more than an inch away. I don’t know how long we stayed like that.

After a moment, he reached over and tucked a lock of my hair behind my ear. With a suggestive smile, he lowered his voice and began, “As a matter of fact, my muscles are not made of marble—” But then he glanced over my shoulder and abruptly fell silent.

Following his gaze, I spied Jareth stepping out from behind a rack of clothing.

“Blatantly ignoring your fate?” he all but growled at Rafael.

Rafael’s expression was impenetrable, but he moved away from me to resume his perusal of his closet.

Disappointed and a little embarrassed, I glanced down at the pen and then hurriedly stuffed it into my sweatshirt pocket, wondering why he’d said it was fated to be mine.

I had no intention of standing there and talking to Jareth, so I skipped past him to join Rafael, but Jareth caught my arm.

“Be careful, Sydney,” he warned flatly. “You’re playing with fire here.”

I could have pretended to not know what he was talking about, but I knew better. Instead, I just shrugged him off. Jareth would be the last person I’d voluntarily listen to, and his snarl of frustration at my obvious rejection of his advice only enforced that thought.

I found Rafael quickly enough, but I stayed back a little farther, and I was quiet this time, watching him select different outfits in silence.

There was a lot about Rafael that I liked—too much, actually. But the one thing I wasn’t sure I cared for was his preoccupation with fashion. I just didn’t get it. But on the other hand, it wasn’t so bad watching him move around. He was so graceful that he almost looked like he was dancing the entire time.

I followed for a while, but my previous, carefree enjoyment had disappeared. And as much as I hated to admit it, Jareth had a point. I really didn’t know what I was playing with, and caution had always served me well.

Finally, Rafael seemed finished. With a selection of clothing draped over his arm, he circled back to slide his hand between my shoulder blades and guide me to the wall where a door instantly appeared.

Pausing at the entrance with a bow, he said, “Take your time, Sydney, and relax. In the end, you’ll save the universe faster that way.”

A little puzzled, I accepted the offered clothing and stepped through the opening. The door zipped shut behind me, fusing into the wall as if it had never existed.

A little uneasy, I glanced around, trying to figure out where I was, and then it dawned on me that I was in a bathroom.

I shouldn’t have been surprised that Rafael’s bathroom was about the size of Betty’s living room and family room combined, but I was. Covered, floor to ceiling in white marble, it was an inviting haven of relaxation. Trailing vines with big purple flowers clustered in the corners, and—to my great relief—there was not a mirror in sight.

I set my clothes down on a small pillar that looked like a stool or a table, wondering where the shower actually was and how I might turn it on. Peeling out of my wrinkled sweatshirt and jeans, I wandered around the bathroom looking for it, but didn’t get my answer until my last shred of clothing dropped to the floor.

Immediately, I was covered by a gentle cascade of hot, scented water accompanied by the delightful sound of cheerful flutes. I stepped back, surprised, but the water moved with me.

It was impossible to be serious under such circumstances, and I figured that I could spare a few minutes from all the drama to recharge.

What followed was a good ten minutes of pure fun. It was like a water park. I could dance and skip around the entire room. The shower not only tracked my every move but read my mood, sending massaging jets of hot water down my back at times and spraying playful tubes of swirling mist about my fingers. I only had to wonder how to turn it off when it immediately obliged.

“A mind-reading shower.” I shook my head in amazement as a warm towel was suddenly presented to me from a nearby wall.

My new clothes had been unfolded and displayed on a headless mannequin while my dirty ones had mysteriously disappeared.

“Awesome!” I found myself smiling a little. I could totally get used to this automatic clothing system.

Rafael had selected a long, dark purple tunic and leggings a deeper shade along with soft leather boots that formed to fit my feet as soon as I slipped them on. In the pockets of the tunic I found the pen and my fork.

Grabbing a fresh towel, I rubbed my hair dry and briefly wondered where Rafael was and how I might find him when the door obligingly appeared in the wall. Hesitating only a moment, I stepped through. It made a whooshing sound as it shut behind me.

Immediately, my eyes fell on Rafael, and I gasped, dropping my towel.

He stood at the opposite end of the room, tall, surprised, and shirtless.

Somehow, I’d stumbled into what appeared to be his bedroom. From the corner of my eye, I noticed the gray bed piled high with fluffy red pillows. He apparently had a thing for gray and red. But that was all my brain registered before my attention was consumed with staring at his hardy body, complete with chiseled abs, broad chest, and muscular arms. He looked exactly like those huge posters Abercrombie and Fitch always have hanging at the entrance of their stores.

“Yes?” he asked calmly, picking up a pink tank top.

As he shrugged into it, I quickly averted my eyes, emotions rampaging through me.

“Did you need something?” he asked, once his blond head emerged.

“Uh …” I licked my lips and winced. It wasn’t my wittiest response.

A tiny smile flickered across his lips

I blushed, unable to meet his eyes and backed out, wanting to be gone.

Thankfully, the door zipped open behind me, and I practically dove through it, expecting to end up in the bathroom but instead found myself standing in Rafael’s small dining area filled with potted trees and trailing vines. The tall glass table with its matching stools was still there, but then it’d only been a day or so since I’d seen it last.

I was obviously rattled.

I rolled my eyes, annoyed with myself.

I’d seen shirtless guys before, but I’d never been so flustered by them. I stood there, fanning my cheeks and berating myself for reacting like a juvenile.

I had no business acting like that. He’d just said he liked Raven. Well, he hadn’t said he liked her, but he
did
say he regretted breaking their engagement. That was the same thing, or worse.

Yet he called me “pixie”. But then, what did that really mean?

I stood there for a few minutes, thinking in circles until I felt someone’s eyes on me.

Whirling, I found Rafael observing me from under half-closed eyes as he leaned against the wall. He’d taken the time to change again. He was wearing a tight yellow t-shirt this time, and his eyes were now ringed with a heavy dose of black eyeliner. For some odd reason that alone made my pulse beat quicker.

Shoving himself off from the wall, he extended his hand and said, “Time for a bit of makeup, Sydney.”

“I’m not really the makeup sort,” I protested half-heartedly and stepped back to avoid touching his hand. I didn’t think it was a good idea with his relationship with Raven and all, and I was tired of blushing.

Striding past me, he placed a small container of assorted brushes, eye shadow, and eyeliner onto the table. Before I could react, he reached back to snag me about the waist and pull me close. He held me there for several long seconds as he hooked one of the stools with his booted foot and dragged it closer.

"Sit," he whispered softly in my ear.

His hands slid up to my shoulders to guide me back, exerting a gentle pressure until I sat.

Anxiously biting my lip, I began wiggling my foot and willed myself not to think. Thinking only got me into trouble with Rafael. If I let my thoughts wander, my mind would inevitably become distracted by his fantastic physique and incredibly passionate gray eyes. Not to mention the muscles bulging through the new t-shirt he was wearing. I wondered why he’d changed. That pink one had done a superb job of showing off his build as well. But then, he could probably wear anything and get the same result.

All at once, I became aware that I’d fallen into the trap of thinking about him again.

I expelled a long, exasperated breath.

What was wrong with me? He was engaged or wanted to be, and he was a fairy. And even if he wasn’t, I didn’t believe in anything as foolish as love. But at the rate I was going, I’d have to tattoo that on my wrist as a reminder.

“What’s bothering you, Sydney?” he asked, picking up a brush.

I jumped and said the first thing that popped into my head, “It’s cool about Raven.”

He paused and took a moment to answer, “In what respect?”

“Oh, that you’re getting engaged to her again,” I babbled nervously. “I mean, I know you regret breaking up. You said so, you know. And it’s really none of my business anyway. We’re just friends, you know. I mean, it’s not like I’m implying anything or … anything.”

I grimaced, suddenly aware that I was doing exactly what I’d done in the parking lot, spouting reams of nonsense. Well, no more. From this moment on, I was going to seal my lips.

I zipped them shut. But resisting the urge to speak was harder than I thought. I literally had to bite my tongue several times to keep the words from popping out.

Ten minutes of unbearable silence followed.

Ten very long minutes, in which Rafael silently applied makeup to my face, his eyes remaining fixed on me the entire time as I looked everywhere humanly possible but directly at him.

“There,” he murmured finally, setting the brush down.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, wanting to escape as quickly as possible. I didn’t know where I planned on going. I just wanted to be gone.

Sliding off the stool just as he twirled it around, I landed straight in his arms.

I froze.

“Perhaps you shouldn’t make assumptions, little pixie,” he said with a sudden teasing glint in his eye.

“Pixie?” I gulped. It was hard to think. I was acutely aware of every inch of him pressed against me. “Jareth said you shouldn’t be calling me that.”

“Did he?” he asked in a voice of liquid velvet.

I nodded mutely. On some level, deep down, I wanted him to kiss me, but most of me was freaking out that he just might.

“Then he’d probably hate it if I did this,” he said, leaning even closer. I could feel his breath on my lips.

I held still.

His lips brushed mine in a feather-light touch.

I’d never kissed anyone before. I didn’t have a clue what I should do. I’d seen plenty of movies where it seemed like they were eating each other’s faces, but this was nothing like that. This was soft and tender, and there wasn’t any pressure that I had to do anything other than simply be there and share the enjoyment of the moment.

I’d never thought sharing a kiss would be so simple and accepting.

He lifted his hand to spin a lock of my hair between his fingers, and I closed my eyes, permitting myself to be carried away.

But it ended all too soon with a loud, shattering crash.

I leapt away from Rafael, spinning to discover Jareth standing over the chair he’d apparently just kicked over. There was a murderous light in his dark eyes as he shouted, “Are you utterly
mad,
Rafael?! The safest thing we can do now is kill her at once!”

Chapter Nine – The Tree of Life

“Kill me?” I nearly screamed. Instinctively, I yanked my fork from my pocket and brandished it as a weapon.

Jareth stood there, shredding me with his angry eyes, but as his gaze fell on the fork, his lip curled in outright disdain. “Don’t be ridiculous, Sydney!”

I drew in a shaky breath, hoping he was just being dramatic and hadn’t meant ‘kill her’ in the literal sense of the words. After all, he was terribly prone to overreacting to just about everything.

But then he added, “That fork won’t stop me. You
know
I don’t react to iron!”

In two long strides, he was at my side, yanking the fork from my hand, and tossing it carelessly over his shoulder.

My stomach lurched as I looked up at him looming over me, but before panic could set in, Rafael’s reassuring hand fell heavily on my shoulder.

“You’re in no danger, little pixie,” his soft whisper touched my ear. Sending Jareth a look of withering contempt, he confronted him in a voice of pure steel, “Sydney’s done nothing wrong. You’re out of line.”

“I think not!” Jareth countered. He was furious, but there was something else in his dark eyes too.

It took me a moment to recognize it.

Fear.

Jareth was glowering at me. But he was afraid. A shiver of apprehension chased down my back. What was Jareth afraid of?

Me?

He waved his hands wildly in my direction. “Why dance this line with fate, Rafael? You’re standing at the crossroads now and only one line leads away. Just one! The rest now disappear into the Tree of Life. Stop and think! Or better yet, take a look at Sydney’s fate lines
now
. You’re a Fate Tracker, regardless if you wish to be one or not. You can’t keep on ignoring destiny this way!” A fresh ripple of fear flashed across his face and his voice dropped. “Look and see what that kiss of yours has done.”