Easy Bake Coven (18 page)

My jaw fell open and I stared at him.

“I wanted you to remember it on your own.” Worry lined Cheney’s normally smooth face.

“You’re not joking, are you?”

Cheney shook his head. I was stunned. “What the . . . we . . .” I swallowed. “We’re going to talk about this—later, after I’ve had time to think about it. When I can think. How do I get downstairs?” I sputtered.
Holy shit.

Cheney wrapped his arms around me, though I struggled, and moments later we were in what looked like a small gymnasium. I pushed away as soon as I could. I had just started to be okay with getting to slowly know Cheney and exploring my feelings, both new and old. How could he be my husband? How?

“I was beginning to think you weren’t coming,” Sebastian said.

“What?” I was distracted and seriously considering calling Sy and getting the hell out of there.

Sebastian lifted an eyebrow and looked over at Cheney, who still wore his stony mask. “Is this a bad time to start?”

“Yes,” Cheney said, snapping me out of my thoughts.

“No,” I countered, looking at only Sebastian. “I’m ready.” I needed something to take my mind off of this. I
needed
Sebastian not to leave Cheney and me alone. Anger rolled off of Cheney in furious waves, and his elf features blazed forth.

Sebastian looked at Cheney, who gave him the slightest nod.

“Dodge,” Sebastian said, pulling a tennis ball out of thin air and hurling it at me so quickly I could barely see it.

“What? Ow!” The ball hit me with such force I staggered. Son of a bitch. That was going to leave a mark. Another ball was already flying at me. I barely stepped out of the way when another pelted me in the thigh. About a hundred balls later and only a handful of dodges, I sat of the floor catching my breath and rubbing my arms—but no longer thinking about being anyone’s wife. Mission accomplished.

“Next time, a little explanation about what you’re going to do and what I’m supposed to do would be appreciated,” I grumbled.

“Do you think people stop in a battle to tell you exactly how they’re planning to attack?”

“I think anyone would be caught unaware springing a surprise on them like that.”

Sebastian nodded, pulling another ball out of the air. He whipped the ball at Cheney—who wasn’t even looking at us—so hard I couldn’t see it. Cheney stepped to the side, frowning. The ball smashed into the wall behind him. “You’re training her, Sebastian, not me,” Cheney snapped.

Sebastian continued his assault with increasing speed and power. Cheney avoided all the balls easily while walking towards us. He plucked the last ball from Sebastian’s hand before he could throw it. “I’m not in the mood,” he growled.

“That’s how it is done, Selene.” Sebastian ignored him. “Do you care to try again?”

Before I could answer, Cheney smiled without humor. “I think Selene will do better with hand to hand.”

“She’s out of shape. She hasn’t mastered dodging. You cannot start hand to hand—”

“I am not
out of shape
,” I said cutting him off, offended. “I’ve taught multiple yoga classes a day for years and run at least five miles a day.”

“It’s not a good idea,” Sebastian said. “Don’t be goaded into doing this.”

“It’ll be fine. Keep score,” Cheney said, smirking.

I stood up, stretching my limbs and rolling my shoulders. I’d never been in a fight with anyone in my entire life, nor had I ever wanted to be. The idea of hitting Cheney, however, appealed to me greatly. “So how do I fight?” I asked them.

“Cheney, you can’t do this,” Sebastian protested.

“I can do whatever I want.” Cheney gave him a somewhat manic smile. “All you have to do to fight, princess, is remember.”

A moment later he was behind me, pinning my arms down with one hand and holding a knife to my throat with the other. “Point,” he whispered in my ear, releasing me and stepping back.

Anger and embarrassment gushed through me.

Sebastian handed me a stick that was about three feet long. “You can stop any time you want. But if you can hit him with this, you get a point.” He shook his head and stepped back with his arms crossed over his chest.

An instant later I was on my back with Cheney on top of me. “Point. Come on, princess, you aren’t even trying.”

I pushed him off, scrambling to my feet. The smug son of a . . . Cheney scooped me into his arms. It was humiliating. “Put me down,” I growled.

“Point,” he called out merrily, then sat me on the floor.

I was so angry, so mortified, my vision waved like I’d been in the heat too long. Cheney looked full elf to me right now. I closed my eyes against the image and something amazing happened—I heard him coming. I swung my arm in the direction he came from. When I opened my eyes, the wooden stick was flat against his chest. “Point,” I said, trying not to jump up and down with giddy excitement.

Sebastian looked like he could’ve been knocked over with a feather. “How did you do that?” he asked. “Your eyes were closed.”

Cheney looked down at his chest then back at me and nodded. He pulled a wooden stick identical to mine from the air. “Let’s see what you’ve got.” He twirled the stick in his nimble fingers.

“Cheney—” Sebastian began to protest again.

“She’s always been good with swords. Isn’t that why you gave her the pole?”

“Yes, but—”

“But nothing. We’ll take it slow.”

Cheney was true to his word. He walked me through basic fencing moves, showing me how to hold the weapon and the proper stance. Later, when we were sparring, he moved much slower than I knew he could and only ever tapped me lightly. My control left a lot to be desired. When I hit him, it was with much more force. Luckily my hits were few. Hours passed as we practiced. They offered to let me take a break several times, but I was determined to get it, so I pushed us on. By the time Cheney insisted we stop, it was dark outside, and my movements were sluggish at best. The three of us went upstairs for dinner. I collapsed on the couch half dead.

“I wouldn’t lie down if I were you,” Sebastian called from the kitchen. “You won’t be able to get back up.”

I pulled myself off the couch and discovered my muscles had already begun to stiffen, so I headed for a shower. As the water ran over me, the thoughts I’d been avoiding all day rushed back with a vengeance. Yes, I was attracted to Cheney. That was undeniable. But his wife? I couldn’t be his wife. I’d remember something like that! Every conversation and fight we’d had since he showed up in my life played through my mind. It was no wonder he reacted so poorly to Michael. It was like I was shoving my cheating in his face.

I was a cheater.

I felt sick. But at least this explained why he was here and what everyone seemed to believe I should remember. I got out of the shower and slipped on a light, loose fitting dress. The guys were already at the table discussing my training. I prayed tomorrow would be a rest day, though it didn’t sound like it. I looked at the food in front of me. I wasn’t feeling very hungry, but I knew I needed to keep my energy up.

“You have to eat,” Cheney said, barely pausing from his conversation with Sebastian.

“I
know
.” I lifted my heavy, stiff arm to scoop whatever the mushy stuff was in front of me. I’d never seen anything less appetizing. I took a bite. It pretty much tasted like it looked—like a wet, moldy sock.

“What on earth is this?” I interrupted them.

“Gark,” Sebastian said with enthusiasm. “It has all the necessary vitamins, minerals, and nutrition you need to be strong.”

“It’s a gelatinous mound.”

“It’s the most efficient food choice.”

“You’re out of your mind if you think I’m eating this.”

Cheney grinned. “I told you she wouldn’t eat it.” He handed me a different plate, one with a turkey sandwich and a salad.

“The two of you are impossible.” Sebastian shook his head. “How do you feel?”

“Like I’ve been beaten with a wooden pole . . . Oh, wait, wait—I
have
been beaten with a wooden pole.”

“You did well today, better than I expected. What did you learn?”

“Cheney’s a lot faster than I am—and he hits girls.”

Cheney laughed, but Sebastian continued on seriously. “What else?”

“I did better when I was angry.”

“Why?”

“My Spidey senses kicked in.”

“I do not know what that means.” Sebastian looked to Cheney for translation, which made me smile—and notice my face muscles were the only muscles on my body not sore.

“I think she means her elven abilities,” Cheney explained. “But while that’s true, it isn’t entirely accurate. Your abilities are heightened whenever your emotions are heightened. You don’t have to be angry.”

This morning seemed like years ago, but I still blushed at the referral. Flirting with Cheney definitely brought my senses to life. “Why?”

“Because it’s harder to repress yourself when you’re focused on something else. You’re very singular in your thoughts and actions, princess. You don’t half do anything. Everything you feel consumes you. Take today for example. We could have stopped hours earlier—we both offered to quit—but you insisted we keep going.”

“That’s rather ironic since I’m made entirely of halves. Are you saying I can do anything I set my mind to?” I joked, hoping he’d stop looking so deeply at me.

“I’m saying you don’t know when to quit. You’ll die trying to do whatever you set your mind to.”

“Well, there’s a pleasant thought,” I said dryly.

“You need to think more carefully through the decisions you make.”

Deciding to become a changeling was what he was getting at, which made me bristle. I gave him a hard look. “I’m too tired to fight. Try not to instigate one.”

Sebastian laughed loudly, and both Cheney and I turned toward him. I hadn’t known Sebastian long, but he didn’t seem like the laughing sort.

“I don’t really see what’s funny about this.” Cheney glowered.

He wiped tears from his eyes. “It took Selene becoming a human to have enough sense not to argue with you.”

Cheney looked away. “Isn’t it about time you went home?”

I suffered the pain and kicked him under the table. “Don’t be rude.”

“It’s okay, Selene. I’m happy to see Cheney back to normal. However, Prince Cheney should take his own advice and think more carefully through the decisions
he
makes.” Sebastian stood up and gave me a half bow. “Until tomorrow.”

I abandoned my dinner, hobbled into the living room, and collapsed onto the couch. Cheney followed me in and sat in the chair.

“That was mean,” I said.

“I doubt Sebastian thought so.”

I propped myself up enough to see him. “It was still rude. What did he mean when he said you need to think through your decisions?”

Cheney leaned back and closed his eyes. “You’ll have to ask him.”

“Why are you deliberately difficult?”

“Selene, we have any of number of things we
need
to speak about. Why do you insist on discussing Sebastian?” He rubbed his temples.

Because I still didn’t know how I felt about the things he wanted to discuss. I collapsed back down. “You want to talk about the marriage thing? Is that why you kicked him out?”

He took a deep breath. “That depends. How mad are you? I’m not in the mood to argue either.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I said miserably, shutting my eyes and hoping I’d fall asleep and escape.

Cheney’s sigh was more annoyed than was humanly possible. “Figure out what you want. I can’t take this back and forth much longer.”

“Back and forth? I’m not back and forth.”

“You are the queen of vacillation.”

“I am not.”

“One moment you’re all over me, and the next you can’t stand to look at me.”

I covered my head with my arms. “If this is you not fighting, you suck at it.”

I heard Cheney walk out of the room and I almost felt bad—almost. Cheney may have been right about my being a tad bipolar when it came to him. I was struggling with past feelings coming back and current feelings that were building, but he should understand that. I had to sort all of this out before I could know how I really felt. God, he was irritating. Part of me felt ridiculously connected to him and wanted to be close to him all the time. Like now. Just having Cheney leave the room made part of me want to go look for him. But the other part of me blamed him for changing everything and wanted to lash out. I was happy before. I had a great boyfriend, great friends, and a promising career. Cheney messed up everything.

A few minutes later he came back and sat on the edge of the couch, much too close. “Drink this,” he commanded, handing me a juice glass filled with a foggy amber colored liquid.

I pushed myself up with some difficulty. “What is it?”

“Poison,” he said dryly.

“Oh, well, in that case.” I took the glass and tossed it back like a shot. Cheney’s eyebrows shot up and he broke out in laughter as I sputtered and coughed. “Holy crap, what was that? It tastes like peppery dirt with a spoiled milk aftertaste.”

“It was dirt.”

“What!”

“I’m kidding. It was a very potent tea that will help you sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning. Normally, it is sipped, but . . .”