Souls (Runes series) Page 10

  “It’s his fault, the snake,” he mumbled as we took off.

  I knew he meant Dev, so I said nothing.

  His grip tightened on the steering wheel. “Even dead, he manages to screw with my life.”

  I rolled my eyes. He could be such a drama queen. Once again, I was tempted to reach out and reassure him, but giving in to him might become a habit. Echo, I’d learned, loved getting his way too much.

  He sulked until we were halfway home, then pulled a one-eighty. “You know what we could be doing now instead of driving you home while imagining the next forty-eight hours?”

  I sighed, refusing to take the bait. I stared out the window at the passing scenery. A few more souls popped up here and there.

  “Making out,” he said. “I could be kissing you right now. Want to know where?” He didn’t wait for my answer as he warmed up to the subject. “Your neck at your favorite spot. I’d start at the sensitive area behind your ear and work my way to your shoulder while you encourage me with sighs and slight tremors that usually drive me out of my mind. But I won’t stop and feast on your lips. Not yet. The sounds you make are like a shot of pure endorphin. I’d savor your silken skin, move across your neck to the pulse beating furiously at the base of your neck, and feel your heartbeat under my lips. Then I’d move to the other side of your neck…”

  My breath quickened as I got sucked into his word play. He didn’t play fair and telling him to shut up would only egg him on, so I sat there, counted souls we passed, and tried to tell my heart to behave.

  Seven… eight… nine…

  “Want to know where my hands would be all that time? Since you always grip my head to hold it in place, I’d worship your warm, soft skin, run the tips of my fingers up and down your arm, before caressing down your side.”

  He distracted me at thirteen, the jerk.

  “Nothing turns me on like the curves and dips of your body, the responses you give so freely and unselfishly. When you moan and whisper my name, buckle and writhe as you seek closer contact, beg me for more.”

  I was sweating, crossing and uncrossing my legs. Part of me wished he would stop. The siren in me welcomed the images his words evoked.

  “Want to know where your hands would go next?”

  I almost said yes and pressed my lips tight.

  “I know you do. All over me like always. You have no idea what your hands do to my senses, Cora-mio. This time, I wouldn’t let you mess with my insanity. I’d do something I’ve never done before.”

  He stopped and all I could think about was what? He deliberately tortured me with his silence as he narrowed the distance to my home. I was close to giving in and begging him to continue when he chuckled.

  “Do you remember the silk ties you bought me before I came to your parents’ house for the first time?” Again he didn’t wait for my response. “I’ve been planning to put them to good use. Maybe take both of your hands and tie them above your head, giving me freedom to love you in ways you couldn’t possibly fathom. I could…”

  He entered the road leading to my farm, and I wanted to cry. Beg him to stop the car and tell me more. Forget he was deliberately tormenting me and jump him.

  “Look, home sweet home,” he murmured, and I could tell he was smiling. The despicable man. I sat there not moving when he stopped the car.

  “You’re a jackass,” I whispered in a voice I didn’t recognize.

  He laughed, jumped down, and came around the car to open my door. He stepped back and bowed. Ignoring him, I got down and marched to my door, aware of his smug presence. I turned and faced him, not sure what to do.

  He leaned in, and my lips tingled with anticipation. He was going to kiss me. Thank the gods. Our noses touched. I stopped breathing.

  “Goodnight, doll-face,” he whispered. “Have hot, hot dreams about me.” Then he stepped back, smirking, and waved.

  My jaw dropped as he turned and sauntered back to the SUV, whistling and twirling his car key. Arrogant bastard. Still, I couldn’t help admiring the way his jeans hugged his narrow hips. It didn’t matter what the man wore, he rocked it.

  “Hey,” I called out.

  He turned and cocked an eyebrow. I beckoned him with a finger. The triumphant smile on his lips said he thought I’d caved. When he reached the first step leading to the porch, I shrugged off his dinner jacket.

  “Tonight, I’m going to be thinking of you when I…” I touched my lips and sighed. I handed him his jacket with a tiny smile. “Thank you. Nice dreams.”

  He was the one staring after me when I turned and entered the house. My parents had gone to bed, so I didn’t have to explain my smug smile.

  ***

  Where was Echo?

  I’d been sure he’d ignore me and then hound me until I stopped being angry with him. He didn’t sneak into my room on Saturday night, and he wasn’t there when I woke up the next day.

  I glared at the ceiling, wondering when he’d appear. Hoping he’d appear. Talk about being whipped. Twelve hours and I missed him like crazy.

  I kicked off the covers and sat up. I caught my reflection in the mirror and sighed. I needed a trim. Since it was a Sunday, maybe just a home treatment.

  I headed downstairs to make breakfast for my parents. My parents slept in on Sundays, leaving me in charge of the kitchen. I was no Martha Stewart or Mom, who was an amazing cook, but she’d taught me well. Between whining and daydreaming about boy bands, I had picked up a thing or two.

  The scent of bacon and pancakes reached me as soon as I hit the stairs. I frowned and checked at my watch. Eight. Mom must have gotten up early. Dad’s cooking was a cross between dog food and pond water, so he couldn’t be the one turning our kitchen into food heaven.

  I angled my head and started downstairs. Usually, Mom would be humming or watching morning news as she cooked. She must have heard something she didn’t like. She was weird like that. Annoying news often meant turning off the TV as though the very act made the incident go away.

  “Hey, sleepy head,” a familiar voice said when I reached the bottom of the stairs, and my jaw slammed down.

  Echo was in my kitchen. Cooking. A cup of coffee in his hand.

  “What are you…?”

  A pile of steaming strawberry pancakes sat in the middle of the kitchen table, which was set for three. My stomach growled. They looked so good. Another plate had a pile of crispy bacon that had my mouth watering. Eggs were on the pan on top of the stove. The setting was straight out of some food magazine.

  “Are you crazy?” I whispered, keeping my voice low, trying to sound disapproving and failing miserably. “My parents will be downstairs any second.”

  “Is that a way to greet someone offering you this feast?” he asked. “Besides,” he spread his arms, “they can’t see me.”

  Of course, they couldn’t. Runes blazed on his skin. Like last night, he was dressed in normal clothes—jeans and a T-shirt. He didn’t play fair. He knew I loved it when he went all boy-next-door. No one could wear jeans like Echo.

  “Why?” I asked, trying to focus on our conversation and not the hot vibes he was sending my way.

  He sipped his coffee and cocked an eyebrow. “Why can’t they see me?”

  My eyes narrowed menacingly when all I wanted to do was slide into his arms. Gah, I was a fool for this man.

  As though he read me, he chuckled and sauntered toward me. “You’re angry with me, and I’d rather you weren’t.”

  “So, this is an apology?”

  He flashed a smile. “Is it working?”

  That sexy smile was irresistible, and he knew it. A quick glance in the garbage and I spied the telltale boxes from his favorite Miami restaurant. They make the most amazing fresh fruit pancakes ever.

  “What if my parents had walked in here while you were transferring your treats?”

  “Have you seen me move? Faster than The Flash,” he bragged. “You still angry with me?”

  “Will you agree to meet with Dev?”<
br />
  “No.”

  “Then I’m still disappointed in you.”

  “Angry to disappointment is progress.” He reached out to touch my cheek, but I stepped back. His hand dropped to his side, a scowl settling on his face. “I guess no touching. At least we’re talking. You ignored me during our drive home yesterday.”

  “Echo—”

  “You know, there’s something breathtaking about you first thing in the morning.”

  Was he serious? I reached up to touch my messy hair.

  He grinned. “Hair mussed, eyes heavy-lidded, lips soft, and body relaxed from sleep. You look vulnerable and sweet, yet utterly sexy. I want to pick you up and tuck you somewhere safe where no one can hurt you, but at the same time, I want to kiss you senseless. Get lost in your warmth.”

  My mind went foggy. I wanted to run into his arms and forget about our fight and Dev.

  “You get me, doll-face,” he added, reaching out to twirl a lock of my hair. “Be mad at me all you want, but I’ll keep coming back and showing you how much I love you until you forgive…” he looked toward the stairs, “me.”

  Dad’s voice reached us first, then Mom’s laughter. They were coming downstairs. Panicking, I debated whether to ask Echo to leave or stay. I opened my mouth, and “I love you too” came out.

  He smiled. “I know. Want me to leave?”

  I swear he was a mind reader. Now that he’d voiced my thoughts, it sounded selfish on my part, especially after what he’d done. “Um, the boxes.”

  He stared at the garbage can, then glanced at me with an expectant expression. Mom and Dad were at the top of the stairs. Grrr, what to do?

  “Am I staying or leaving, doll-face?” Echo sounded serious, like he’d go if I asked him to, but his expression said he wanted to stay. I wanted him to stay, but first, a few ground rules.

  “Will you behave?”

  He chuckled.

  “I’m serious, Echo.”

  He pressed a hand against his chest, golden eyes gleaming. “What could I possibly do while cloaked?”

  A lot. Most Sundays, he liked to watch me make my parents breakfast, wolfing down some food while I cooked. But he usually left before they came downstairs. “You can stay if you promise to behave.”

  “Anything for you, doll-face. Oh, you may want to head to the stove and pretend to be serving the eggs.”

  He followed me to the stove and stood close, our bodies almost touching. He leaned in and smelled my hair. My unwashed hair. I cringed.

  “I want to kiss you,” he whispered.

  I knew it! Behaving was not coded in his DNA. I turned to tell him to behave or else, but the look in his eyes stopped me.

  “I miss your scent,” he whispered. “Holding you while you sleep. Waking up next to you. I miss your warmth,” he added, wolfish eyes gleaming. “And the way you open your eyes slowly in the morning, then quickly squeeze them tight as though to will the morning away.”

  I couldn’t drag my eyes away from him, but I knew exactly where my parents were based on their voices. Halfway down the stairs. Bet I would see their legs if I turned and looked, but I couldn’t look away from Echo.

  “But most of all,” Echo continued, “I miss the way you burrow into my chest and breathe softly against my skin while you sleep, reminding me how lucky I am.”

  I was a puddle of goo.

  “Something smells good,” Dad said at the foot of the stairs, and I glanced toward him, wishing I could send them back upstairs, offer to serve them breakfast in bed. But Mom was staring at the set table with an appreciative grin.

  “Oh, honey, this looks amazing,” she said.

  “It’s all in the presentation, future mother-in-law,” Echo said, bowing.

  I fought a smile. “The eggs are ready, too.”

  “The things I do for you, Cora-mio. Taking credit for my work. Forcing Chef Lavre to prepare this meal after he’d finished serving breakfast.”

  “Thank you,” I said, sweeping the eggs onto a serving bowl.

  “No, we should be thanking you, sweetheart,” Dad said, erroneously assuming I’d thanked them. He’d moved closer and was pouring coffee into mugs. He pressed a kiss to my temple. “The food looks good, and we brought our appetites.”

  A giggle escaped Mom, and my face heated. My parents weren’t usually overtly affectionate, but I could always tell when they’d made love. They’d have lost-in-their-own-world moments, which were both endearing and disturbing. Moms weren’t supposed to giggle, and Dads should only wear certain expressions when their children weren’t around. He handed Mom her drink, kissed her, taking his time, and sat. She giggled again.

  Echo studied them with a gleam in his eyes. “I think your mom got some—”

  “Shut up,” I said through clenched teeth, my face flaming.

  “What did you say, dear?” Mom asked, serving the pancakes.

  “Syrup,” I improvised. “Do you want maple or strawberry?”

  “Nice come back,” Echo said.

  “Maple is good. We might be out of strawberry.” Then she looked at Dad, and they both smiled. I wasn’t sure what that smile was, but if it had anything to do with last night, I was swearing off strawberry syrup.

  “I think your parents are into something kinky,” Echo chimed in, dodging my footsteps. “I wonder what we could do with—”

  I stomped on his foot.

  “Ouch! What was that for?”

  “Go away,” I mouthed and carried the eggs and syrup to the table. I pulled out a chair and sat, aware that he came to stand behind my chair. My parents gushed over the food while Echo continued to push my boundaries. His elbows on my chair, he stroked my shoulders and responded to every comment they made as though he was part of the conversation. He twirled a lock of my hair. Telling him to stop would be pointless, so I let him.

  “This is great coffee, pumpkin,” Dad said, sipping his coffee. “I couldn’t have made it any better.”

  “Score,” Echo said.

  “Where did you get fresh strawberries?” Mom asked. “I used the last batch when I made shortcake a few days ago.”

  “Oops,” Echo said.

  I was so going to make him pay for this. With all the big secrets I kept from my parents, I didn’t want to add another. “Echo bought some last night.”

  “What a thoughtful young man,” Mom said, and Dad nodded.

  Echo chuckled. “They adore me, and I’ve barely started impressing them.”

  I leaned back, pretended to scratch my nose, and mouthed, “Go away.”

  “Come to the pantry with me,” Echo whispered.

  I ignored him and continued to eat. The pancakes were amazing, and the bacon crispy.

  “Want to know why?” he whispered, pressing a kiss on my shoulder and reminding me I was still wearing a tank top and pajama pants. He skimmed my arm with his knuckles, sending a delicious shiver through me. “I want you to kiss me before I leave.”

  “Are you cold, hun?” Mom asked and reached out to rub my arms, almost touching Echo.

  I moved back. “No, I’m okay.”

  “When is Echo coming to dinner?” Dad asked.

  “Tonight,” Echo said, but I couldn’t help teasing him.

  “I don’t know. I’ll know when he comes back in two days. Between finals and his work, he barely has time for anything else.” His hands left my shoulder.

  I waited for him to do something else. When he didn’t, I looked over my shoulder and frowned. He was gone.

  Breakfast lost its appeal.

  I spent the rest of the morning looking over my shoulder while helping Mom with laundry, hoping to find him. It took me twice as long to finish my chores because I kept expecting him to appear.

  Restless, I popped into Raine’s room, but she wasn’t there. The black cat I’d met yesterday was curled up on the window seat. She lifted her head and stared at me suspiciously.

  “Still here?”

  Her answer was a disdainful look.

&n
bsp; “Yeah, right back at you,” I said.

  She stood and stretched, then curled back again on the seat, her eyes on me.

  “What? Think I want to steal something? Tell your mistress I stopped by.”

  “I don’t think she speaks yet,” Femi said from behind me, and I whipped around. She was framed in the mirror portal entrance. Behind her was the living room. “Hey, doll. I heard sounds up here and thought Raine was back.”

  “Hey, Femi,” I said, trying not to look guilty. I was so used to popping in and out of Raine’s room I’d never thought how someone else would perceive it. “Just stopped by to see if she was home.”

  “She left with Torin. Have you checked the mansion?”

  The mansion was home to the rest of the Valkyries and Immortals in our little town. “Heading there now.” An awkward silence followed. “Oh, uh, how’s Mr. Cooper doing?”

  Femi grinned. “Better now that Svana is home. He even went for a walk today.”

  “Wow. That’s amazing.”

  “Love has a way of making us do the impossible.”

  Raine’s father had terminal cancer and, for months, had been bedridden while her mother faced the Valkyrie Council in Asgard. My resolve to help Dev and Echo increased. Yes, love could make us do the impossible.

  8. UNEXPECTED ATTACK

  I cranked up the radio as I left for school on Monday. I was halfway there when a cold draft filled the inside of my car. My first thought was Echo, but then Dev appeared in my rear window. Major disappointment coursed through me. He was the last person I wanted to see or talk to now.

  “Sorry, can’t talk now,” I mumbled.

  Dev did his gurgling chuckle sound, but my decoder of soul language was off.

  He didn’t ask before slithering through the CD slot of my car. Static replaced MTKO, who was singing their latest hit song. Then the announcer said, “This is ninety-four-point-five, Kayville’s number one pop radio station. Talk to me, doll-face.”

  For a second, I was too shocked to speak. Then I realized it was Dev. He sounded like the announcer, American accent and all. “Don’t call me that.”