Remy chuckled. “Nope.”
“Want to hook up with the waitresses?” Sykes asked. He walked backward, hazel eyes twinkling, the meeting in the conference room all but forgotten.
Remy shrugged and the two bumped fists.
“You had time to make dates in the middle of that mess in L.A.?” Izzy asked.
“Hey, no one is stopping you from ditching Rastiel and hooking up with someone now and then.” Sykes wiggled his brow suggestively and pointed at his chest.
Izzy laughed. “In your dreams.”
“You don’t know what you’re missing,” Sykes added, smirking.
Bran chuckled. “You’re losing your touch, Sykes.”
“I’m just warming up.” He interlocked his fingers and snapped his knuckles.
“Am I the only one who feels the Seniors gave us the runaround back in there?” I asked when we stopped by the tunnel leading to my house. “The Cardinals’ behavior was weird.”
“I think they have no idea what’s going on,” Bran cut in. “Master Haziel is the one with the answers. We need to come up with a plan to make him talk to us. He’s proven to be more cooperative that the seniors.”
The others thought it was a brilliant idea. I just wanted to crawl in bed and sleep even though it was only four in the afternoon. “Master Haziel will only tell you what he thinks you should know. Nothing more and nothing else.”
“You don’t have to deal with him if you don’t want to,” Bran said.
“She must,” Kim insisted. “He has a soft spot for her.”
“He doesn’t,” I protested. “He yells at me the most. I’m definitely in. Are you guys really sneaking out tonight?”
“Maybe,” Remy said.
“Yes,” Sykes corrected him.
Telling them not to go would be like waving a red flag at a bull. “Be careful. If you haven’t noticed, the Tribe only appears when we are out there.”
“We’ll be fine,” Sykes said confidently.
“Watch your backs,” Izzy warned them, then she and Kim teleported.
I shook my head as Remy and Sykes headed toward their house. “They are so reckless.”
Bran chuckled, taking my hand. “Sykes is. Remy just goes along to make sure Sykes doesn’t do something stupid.”
No surprise there. Sykes tended to break rules with no thoughts of consequences. Yawning, I sighed. “What did we do last week when we were on lockdown?”
“We hung out and practiced. Kylie stopped by a few times. Come on. I’ve been saving something special for your birthday, which drove you nuts because you wanted to see it so badly,” he grinned, dimples flashing, “but I think you should see it now.”
I hated reminders of my lost memories, but surprises from him were always fun. They usually involved teleporting somewhere, though I doubted that would be the case this time with lockdown and all. “What is it?”
He rolled his eyes then pulled me back into his arms. “Always impatient.”
“Okay, where to?”
“My room.”
“Oh. I like it already.”
He chuckled. “It’s not what you’re thinking.”
I blushed, though I refused to be embarrassed for loving him and wanting to spend time alone with him. We dematerialized and reappeared in his room. The house was quiet without Celeste. The seniors had never said when the students would come back from Xenith.
Bran’s room looked more lived-in than I recalled. The iPod on a docking station and the laptop were new, as was an armchair and the rug on the floor. Two canvases were flipped to face the wall. Near the window sat a table with pencils and sketch pads. I knew he sketched, but he’d never shown me any of his work.
Or maybe he had and I’d forgotten. The urge to cry washed over me.
“You are worrying again,” he whispered against my temple.
“No, I’m not.”
He leaned back and studied my face. “Yes, you are.”
The urge to cry increased. “I’m trying not to, but I hate that everything is different and new because of my messed-up memories. My room. Your room. Keiran is a stranger to me when he shouldn’t be. Dante can’t come close to me without getting hurt.”
“Then mind-blend with me and relive the last four months.”
Stepping away from him, I shook my head. “No. Not after what happened to Grampa. I could hurt you too, or worse.”
“There’s a difference. He was searching for—”
“No, I won’t do it,” I insisted.
“Fine. It’s okay.” He pulled me in his arms again until I calmed down, then took my coat and threw it on the bed. “Sit. I’ll get us something to drink. Don’t move or touch anything.”
I scooted against the headboard and curled my legs under me. It was hard to get over how different his room was. I picked up his iPod and browsed through his music library. Classic rock, some heavy metal, alternative rock. I smiled when I saw some of my favorites.
“Didn’t I say not to touch anything?” he scolded.
I wrinkled my nose, took the can of cream soda from his hand and put it down. I looked at him with anticipating. “I’m ready for my surprise.”
“So am I.” He rubbed his hands as he walked backward to the first canvas and slowly turned around with it.
It was a painting of the sunset from Haleakala in Maui, our special spot in Hawaii. I hopped off the bed and went to kneel in front of the painting. The colors were vibrant. He’d even included the rock he and I had sat on, except it had our initials and a heart.
“Did we do that?” I whispered.
“You did.”
I traced the initials, remembering our vow to always meet on that mountain if something catastrophic happened and we were separated. How many times had we visited it since that first day?
I blinked back a sudden rush of tears and glanced up at him. He was such a gifted artist. “Thank you. It’s beautiful.”
“You think so? I thought I could add more color here,” he pointed at a section of the sky, “and make the clouds fuller here.”
“It’s perfect.” How could it not be? He’d painted it. For me. I stood, took the painting from his hand and propped it against the wall. But when I turned around, he was holding the second canvas—a painting of me. A breathtaking me. A perfect me.
I wore a Gypsy skirt and top, charm bracelets and anklets, and my feet were bare. I didn’t recognize the beach, but the radiant smile on my face said I was happy and in love. He’d caught my slightly slanted green eyes, made my skin more flawless, my chest…bigger. I think. I looked down, then back at the painting. I guess his perception mattered more than mine, and my hair had never been that beautiful.
“Is that how you see me?” I whispered.
He put the painting aside and smiled, closing the gap between us. “No. That is who you are.” He ran his knuckles down the side of my face. “Beautiful,” he murmured against my temple, then moved lower and pressed his lips near my ear and whispered, “Smart.” He moved lower and nuzzled my neck. “Impossible.” His breath was hot against my skin, sending a Shockwave through my flesh.
I’d stopped breathing at “That is who you are.” All I could think about was his lips against mine. When he turned his head, eye blazing, I knew my wish was about to come true.
We kissed. Pure, refined heat warmed my insides while goose bumps spread on the surface of my skin. I pressed against him, seeking his warmth, needing to forget all my problems in his arms. His fingertips flitted down my back until they reached the curve of my hip, where my shirt met my pants.
He muttered something under his breath, lifted me up and carried me to his bed, his emerald eyes intense as they met mine, his movements gentle as he lowered me down.
I leaned up and tried to pull him closer, but he resisted. Laughing softly under his breath, he ran his fingertips up and down my arms, making me tremble. Turning his head, he pressed his lips along the sensitive skin on my wrist, then moved toward my shoulder, then my neck. A few more teasing nibbles then our lips met again.