Lunar Marked (Sky Brooks Series Book 4) (25 page)

“Can we stop talking about this stuff for a little while?” I asked playing, with the rim of my glass.

Trent gave an enthusiastic yes. He was dealing with it, but we were on the same page and wanted to drink until the world made sense, or at least drink until we forgot it was just screwed up.

“Okay, all the other stuff is off the table, but you have to tell me about Sour Face. How hot is that guy?”

“Ethan?”

“Of course, the intense one who must have been born without smile muscles,” David joked. “He’s the new guy, Steven’s gone?”

I moaned. That was something I left out of my vent session. Probably because I was still holding on to hopes that he wouldn’t leave, but I hadn’t seen him since Sebastian was shot, and we hadn’t even talked, either. We exchanged a few texts but that was it.

Trent and David were waiting for me to talk, and it was then I had an appreciation for Quell being able to read my mind and Winter not giving a damn about my personal life. I’m sure if I called Winter and told her that I was sleeping with Ethan she would just say something along the lines of “Why are you telling me? Do you want me to give you a cookie or an award or something?” I didn’t get a lot of girl talk from Winter, and I didn’t realize how much I actually liked that.

With David and Trent, our conversations usually revolved around them. They were great men, but they didn’t mind talking about themselves a lot. I’d settled into that friendship well because their lives brought normalcy to mine. David worked in public relations, and a bad day for him was a client writing something stupid on social media and he had to do damage control. Trent was an event planner, and although someone making a mistake with decorations or bringing the wrong mic, in his mind, was equivalent to the country going to war or a hostage crisis that required federal action. Their mishaps in life were minor.

David filled my glass, which was half-f. I’d been too busy venting to drink it. After taking a long drink, I was ready to take part in the frivolity of their life and love every moment of it and maybe talk about Sour Face, too.

“Okay, you have your wine, now talk,” David ordered. He wasn’t going to let this go.

“I can’t, it violates my ‘I don’t want to talk about this world rule,’” I teased, taking another sip.

“You aren’t going to get off that easy.” Trent was on the edge of his seat waiting for me to talk.
Really
?
I miss Winter.

It was odd, telling them about the ominous and perilous otherworld wasn’t a problem. The dam broke and the information came out easily. Talking about whatever was going on with Ethan and me was harder than I expected. The second glass of wine made it a little easier, and I thought I could satisfy their curiosity with a condensed version of everything that happened, but Trent turned into an investigative reporter and asked so many questions that before long they knew everything from the first time he kissed me, the night he jilted me and I woke up alone, his assertion that he didn’t want to be my first, to ultimately his becoming my first.

I kept looking back at them and the satisfied look on their faces and felt like I had drifted out to the intensity of the otherworld into young adult land. I didn’t think I could take Trent saying, “That’s hawt” again. Because they had the same look on their faces that I get when I have red velvet cake. Ethan’s and my story wasn’t red velvet cake good. It was riddled with conflict, doubt, and his mercurial behavior that I didn’t think I would ever understand.

“I would like to invoke my statement again: your life is so interesting,” David said as he headed for the kitchen. He returned with another bottle of wine, white this time, cheese, chocolate mini cupcakes, and grapes. The decision was made, I was moving in with Trent and David.

My reprieve was short-lived. Before I could try the chocolate cupcakes someone knocked at the door. David answered it, and Ethan and Josh came in. Ethan had my phone in his hand.

When the brothers stood next to each other, I couldn’t help but notice the resemblance. Both of them were very handsome with strong jawlines and defined features, but Josh’s eyes were clear and oceanic blue, Ethan’s were dimmed by the gray coloring of his animal that was always lurking. Josh held his intensity but it was there, magic so strong that even humans who might not be able to feel it or sense it felt the pulsing of something different coming off him. Ethan, from the lithe predacious movements to his keen look, touted his power like a flashing banner.

“How did you get my phone?” I asked.

“You left it at your house.” That only raised more questions than it answered.

“Okay, just for fun, do you want to tell me how you got in my house?”

His look was similar to the one Gavin gave me when I asked whether or not Kelly knew he had a key to her house. The look that attempted to make me feel absurd for even asking a question. After all, why wouldn’t they have a key?
Of course, it’s not invasive and borderline stalker-y to have a key made without me knowing or breaking in for the hell of it.
The lilt of Ethan’s smirk just made the situation worse, because he didn’t seem to care about the invasion of privacy. The anger was there but good manners prevented me from reacting the way I wanted to. I wanted to go ballistic, to respond in a manner that could be used during a promo of the
The Real Housewives of Whatever
.

Before I could react, he handed me the phone and said, “Steven let me in.” And then he looked at the empty bottles of wine on the table and then back at me and grinned. Stepping closer to me he lifted my chin until my eyes met his. He might have blocked out the other people in the room but I was very aware of everyone there.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against my ear as he asked, “How many have you had?”

I didn’t know. I stopped counting after two and since their wineglasses were Big Gulp size, it was double what I had anyway.

In my peripheral vision I saw David laugh, open his hand and flash five fingers, and then pick up a bowl-like glass. “Of these.”

Snitch.

Aware that Ethan’s close proximity and my leaning into him made Josh uncomfortable, I stepped back.

I looked past Ethan to Josh. “Why are you here? Is something wrong?”

“I tried to find Ethos using the blood you collected and I couldn’t.” Trent’s light umber eyes sparked with interest, his full attention fixed on Josh. But he possessed the same look that most people did when they realized that Josh was one of the most powerful witches in the country, avid interest with a tinge of doubt. Trent took in Josh’s disheveled hair, tapestry of exotic body art that wrapped around his exposed arms, small studs in his ear, and wrinkled blue t-shirt that read ALWAYS BE YOURSELF, UNLESS YOU CAN BE BATMAN. THEN ALWAYS BE BATMAN in bright orange letters. Even David had that look as he gave Josh a once-over. That same look was on my face when I first met him. The
Really?
look.
Josh’s appearance often caused most, to their peril to underestimate him.

Josh smiled, his typical swoon-worthy wayward grin that seemed to make Trent and David not care one way or the other.

“Did you find out anything about the man?” David asked.

“Dr. Jeremy is still working on it. His bloodwork is different than ours. He’s definitely not one of ours,” Ethan said.

“Is this Liam’s and the elves’ handiwork?”

Ethan sighed, and I wasn’t sure when he had moved and closed the distance between us but his hand was placed casually around my waist, and I became increasingly aware of it and his touch. I didn’t like it, this feeling of vulnerability for a man whose reputation came with a warning sign. Again I attempted to step back; with a smirk, his finger slipped into the loop of my jeans securing my position.

“He says they didn’t have anything to do with it, but we spoke to him on the phone so I had no way of knowing if he was telling the truth.”

Responding to the confused look on David’s face, he added, “Everyone has physiological changes when they lie. Most of us can detect them.”

David seemed like he was information-weary and numbed by the summation of new knowledge about the otherworld. His lips pulled into a tight line, and I could hear the quick pacing of his heart rate. For the first time he was showing signs of being uncomfortable around us. I understood we were obtrusive.

“I don’t do it. Not intentionally. Sometimes if it’s really noticeable I can, but I wouldn’t do that to you all.” I’d worked hard to improve my perception of these changes, and with David and Trent I would work hard to ignore them.

“I don’t detect their elven magic on the were-animal. There’s something else weird about it and I can’t quite put my finger on it,” Josh said, his gaze slipping over in the direction of his brother’s hand.

Magic’s peculiar fingerprint was helpful, but if you had never encountered it, then it makes it hard to place it. After Kelly was bitten by a
Tod Schlaf
or
sleeper
we were given a sample of magic from the Makellos, the self-entitled elite elves. And thanks to Gideon using magic around the pack’s house to impress Kelly, Josh knew what his magic felt like.

My day of blissful normalcy was over the moment Josh and Ethan had arrived, and it was back to my real life. When Josh suggested we try finding Ethos using my magic, I was back to the otherworld. There just wasn’t a middle ground.

When we started to leave, Trent was on our heels like a kid ready to see a magic show. I tried to let him down easy, I didn’t think it would be safe. I didn’t know he could be so obstinate, and no matter what I said, I couldn’t deter him. A flash of platinum eyes and a sneer from Ethan and he reluctantly stopped in his tracks.

Josh seemed to be feeling as sympathetic as I was to Trent, who looked crestfallen, his disappointment trailing up his face and settling on his features hard. Before we got out the door, Josh turned, twirled his fingers, and a glass lifted off the table. With the other hand he lifted the bottle of wine, tilted it to fill the glass, and slowly lowered them both back on to the table. Both Trent’s and David’s mouths were slightly open—they were dumbfounded and far more impressed with him then seeing me turn into a wolf. He could add them to the list of fans.

J
osh
and I stood in the middle of the room. I was a little tired after changing to wolf form a couple of times to try to burn off some of the alcohol. Josh as usual had invaded my space, so close that if he leaned in just an inch or so more our lips would have touched. Smirking, he looked at Ethan, who was leaning against the wall. I didn’t like having an audience when I did magic with Josh. Magic was our own special world: I experienced it on different levels that I had learned to appreciate. The wispy aura as it surrounded me, the unique and comforting feel of the breeze of natural magic. It was more powerful now, but it was still Josh’s and it was familiar. I didn’t have to manipulate it and controlled it with less effort. There wasn’t a caliginous cloak that lingered hours after the magic was performed.

“I hear you’ve mastered using the Aufero.”

“Well, if master means no one died, Maya didn’t take over, and the house was still standing after I used it, then yes, I am the grand master.”

He laughed, moving and smothering out the few inches I had managed to put between us. “Then you’ll take the lead and I’ll help.”

What? Was he day drinking, too?

“You have access to dark magic. I think if we are tracking Ethos, you are going to be stronger.” Then he explained what I needed to do. He made everything about magic seem easy, emboldening me. I always felt like I could do anything until I tried it and things went terribly wrong. But I had this, I’d made a safe protective field, I’ve moved objects with magic and even managed to do a spell with Ethan to remove the elven magic from him. I could do this.

He laid out the stained towel we’d used to clean up Ethos’s blood. With the Aufero close I said the invocation. Midway through the invocation, magic took on a life of its own, flowing through me with little effort. The glow of the Aufero lit the room, a cyclone of magic engulfed us, the blood pulled off the towel, and directions were scribbled on my carpet. It was a good thing Ethan had the presence of mind to start writing them down, because seconds later they had disappeared. Then the blood vanished from the towel, not even a stain of it remained on it. This wasn’t anything like other locating spell I’d experienced—no 3D map occurred, no sparks of light that fell over an existing map.

Ethan looked at the directions again—it was about an hour away—and then he grabbed his keys. Josh wasn’t too far behind.

Seriously, we’re really going to a location with coordinates given to us in blood?

T
he answer was a resounding yes
, as we got into Ethan’s AMG and sped down the road. I was still reeling from the dramatic change of events from day drinking with my neighbors to following blood directions to a remote location. With the Aufero in hand, I found some comfort knowing that Josh was with us, although he didn’t seem to feel the same. The last time he fought with Ethos, he lost—badly. It was that loss and the one against Samuel that created the Josh we now had. Paying very little attention to his brother’s erratic driving, Josh concentrated on something else. His features hardened, and it was the first time I’d noticed the change in his eyes: they were midnight blue, just a shade lighter than the dark coloring they turned when he used stronger magic. I’m not sure if he was doing it on purpose, but turbulent gusts of magic came off him.

Ethan must have sensed it, too, because I caught him looking back at Josh several times. The navigation system said that the time to our destination was an hour and ten minutes, but we did it in forty-two. If it could be called a destination—it looked more like a forest, dense large, verdant, extending out for miles crowding the area and obscuring everything. If there was a house in there, it was well hidden by the trees.

“This can’t be right,” I said, as Ethan stopped the car after looking for an opening that would lead us into the forest and driving for nearly five minutes with no luck.