Fading Amber (19 page)

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Authors: Jaime Reed

BOOK: Fading Amber
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Did this mean I was a lesbian? Was this narcissism on a whole other level? It was a good thing I was getting therapy soon, because I knew I would need it after this. This was enough to traumatize anyone for life.
“It's the only way to get back to normal. They don't call it the mating
process
for no reason.”
I shook my head dumbly. “Are we going to go through this every time?”
“I don't think so.” When I didn't move, he said, “It's me, Sam. It's just us. For now on, it'll always be just us.”
His words, though comforting, did nothing to diminish the freak factor of this entire experience. But I took the hand offered and with my eyes closed, allowed him to lead me back to the bed. Let it go on record that the first of this year was the craziest day of my life, one that I would never forget. And it was only seven A.M.
16
I
woke up to the sound of loud breathing next to my ear. At first, the presence alarmed me, but the white sheets, the jumbo pillows, and the heavy arm slung over my waist refreshed my memory. The sun poured through the blowing curtains, warming the room in a buttery yellow filter.
I rolled over to face my noisy sleep mate, thankful that he was back in his own body. Caleb lay on his stomach, his damp hair spilling over his face and into his eyes. Dark lashes fanned over his flushed cheeks, and his jaw was shadowed with stubble. He looked so peaceful when he slept, but even the most troublesome child had an angelic bed manner. Though his eyes remained closed, a faint smile touched his lips, lips that were still red and swollen from kissing.
My hands circled the curve of his shoulder and down to his arm, squeezing the distension of muscle. Feeling wicked, I traced his spine with my fingers and then slid them under the sheet. Cake Boy may be pale and thin, but he had the cutest butt.
“You done molesting me, woman?” he mumbled against the pillow.
“Nope,” I said and continued my exploration.
“You need to stop doing that, or else you're asking for trouble,” Caleb warned. “Guys tend to have issues in the morning.”
“I noticed.” I smiled. “I also noticed you snore.”
“So what? You drool.” He opened one eye, and a prismatic whirl of color peeked through his lashes. “How long have you been awake?”
I brushed the fallen strands from his face. “A couple minutes. I'm just watching you sleep.”
He cringed. “Oh, God! Why? That's so creepy.”
“Can't help it. You give me plenty to think about.”
His one opened eye narrowed at me. “Right. You hungry?”
I nodded. “Starving.”
“I thought so. I'll order room service.”
“With actual food or the server?”
“Food. We need to build our strength; we've worked up an appetite.” He wagged his eyebrows. Still lying on his belly, he leaned over the side of the bed to the phone that had fallen from the nightstand.
“You seem peppy today. The world is falling apart and you're cooler than a fan. Why?” I asked.
“Well, I just woke up, Sam, and spazzing out is counterproductive. Waking up with you helps.”
As he ordered our meal, Caleb watched me stretch across the bed, bound like a mummy in the sheets. We were both grinning fools today, and I wasn't sure if last night was something to cheese about.
When he hung up, he crawled over to me, pulled me closer to him, and looked at me with such warmth, I felt myself blush. “How are you feeling?”
“I'm a little sore, but I'm good. In fact I got a nice little buzz going on.” I giggled. My eyes were closed, basking in my high, when I felt something cold and flat over my eyelids. I could tell by the size and weight of these two small objects to know that they were quarters.
“This is a good look for you,” he said.
“What? Wearing your change?” I kept still so the quarters wouldn't fall.
“No. Lying in my bed. It's the perfect fit and flatters your figure. Very becoming.” I could feel him lean in, felt his lips hovering over mine when a knock on the door killed the moment.
Caleb and I stopped moving. My eyes flew open and the coins slid from my face to each side of my temples. We knew it had to be Michael and we weren't ready to face the world just yet. Maybe if we were quiet he would go away, but the voice through the door spoiled that plan.
“I know you're in there. Wake up, I need to talk to you,” Michael called.
Caleb looked to me for suggestions but there was nothing I could do. Our time had run out and reality and all the crazy it entailed would have caught up with us eventually. With reluctance, Caleb crawled out of bed, slid on his boxers, then went to the door. I pulled the covers around me and enjoyed the noon sun bouncing off his naked torso. His back muscles flexed and rolled under his skin. The things that body could do had me giggling like a total idiot.
Caleb opened the door and stared up at his brother in the hall. Michael looked grave and disheveled, a clear side effect of his drinking binge.
“Any word about Haden?” Caleb asked before Michael could open his mouth.
“He's still in ICU. Ruiz needs to see us,” he replied.
“That's funny, because I need to see you. We need you to help us get Tobias's body and destroy it. We know you and Haden hid it somewhere.”
Michael shot a quick glimpse over his shoulder, then stepped forward. “You know we can't. You're still connected. We can't kill him until you and Sam . . .” He paused as Caleb flung the door wider. Michael's gaze fell on me, curled on the bed covered neck deep in a sheet. I shrieked and burrowed deeper under the covers, exposing only my eyes. After Michael got his eyeful, Caleb narrowed the door so his body stood in the crack.
“Tell Ruiz we'll be out in five minutes. I have an idea, one that will solve all of our problems.” Caleb slammed the door in his brother's face.
Five minutes was more like fifteen. Caleb let me borrow a pair of sweats and we dressed in silence. I tried not to think about what would happen after today. Being a bound pair would make our lives durable as well as fragile. We would be stronger together and we could survive where other Cambions couldn't. It was a small comfort, enough to get me through the day, at least.
The room was a sight, clothes and objects lay everywhere, and the rumpled bed sheets had their own story to tell, but it had been our world for a few strange and glorious hours. I wanted to stay here. Was I being clingy?
Caleb looked at me as if he could hear my thoughts exclusively. I knew he couldn't, but he could feel the desperation behind them. He covered his own reaction with a smile, but the somber emotion behind the grin betrayed him. Without a word, he took my hand and led me to the living room.
Michael hovered over the dining cart and devoured the breakfast that Caleb ordered. Ruiz paced the sitting area, holding my shoulder bag in his hand. He must've brought it from Angie's suite. He turned and saw us enter the room and immediately, his stare fell on our locked hands.
“Your mother asked me to bring you home,” he announced.
“My mom?” Oh lord, did she know I spent the night here?
“She's under the impression that you stayed with Evangeline after your celebration,” Ruiz explained as if he could read my mind. “It's best that she remains under that impression. Wouldn't you agree?” His keen eyes assessed the shapeless drape of my clothes, which were obviously not mine. He only needed to look at the balled-up material I tucked behind my back to learn where my evening clothes went, but he'd seen enough.
Michael stopped chewing long enough to look at us. He gave us a thumbs-up then plopped on the couch with a handful of cinnamon rolls. It then dawned on me that all in company knew what Caleb and I did last night. I was completely mortified while Caleb all but did a victory dance in the living room.
“Let's go.” Ruiz gestured toward the door.
I turned to Caleb, silently pleading for a rescue, but he placed his hands on my shoulders and kissed me.
“Go on. Don't want her worrying about you. I'll call you with updates,” he said.
I wrapped my arms around his neck and squeezed him tight, as if by doing so would keep me here with him. “What's going to happen?” I whispered.
“I don't know, but we'll be fine. I promise.” He kissed my ear and the side of my neck.
“Samara.” Ruiz's voice crashed down on us with the threat of doom.
Why was this so hard? One would think we were headed to the gallows the way we clung to each other, dragging out this tearful good-bye, recording the touch and scent of each other to memory. I stepped out of Caleb's hold, my arms slipping away from his to where only our fingers connected. The word “heartbreak” was inaccurate to describe what we were feeling. It was a tearing, the pulling apart of muscle tissue like Velcro.
We started out as two romance-aphobes learning the rules of dating, and now we were trapped in our own Shakespearean tragedy. I recalled laughing at how Juliet went emo when Romeo left her bedroom to go into exile. Looking back at Caleb who trailed behind us down the hall, that farewell scene wasn't so funny.
The elevator to the right was now in service, while the one on the left—with the bullet holes—still had yellow caution tape across it. I stepped inside the elevator then turned to Caleb standing in the hall watching me with haunted grief in his eyes. His shirt was wrinkled, the button of his jeans was undone, and his hair was in complete disarray. He looked a hot, smoldering mess and I never saw anything more beautiful. Because he was mine and mine alone. That last image stayed long after the elevator doors closed.
 
The drive back home was quiet for the first five minutes. I stared out of my window when Ruiz took it upon himself to fill the silence with inappropriate chatter.
“I take it that you and Caleb are a bound pair now,” he said.
“That's none of your business,” I snapped.
“It's all right, Samara. I'm only congratulating you. I understand the rarity of finding a mate who is your equal.” Ruiz spoke with a low, jaded voice of experience, but then he said a lot of things that a non-Cambion shouldn't know from experience.
“In any case,” he continued. “I'll have to inform the family of your union. Hopefully, they will reconsider their punishment.”
“What do you mean
hopefully
? They can't kill Caleb without killing me.”
“They may not see that as a problem given your recent behavior, Samara. The two of you have caused nothing but grief and controversy in the Cambion community. It would be simpler just to dispatch you both.”
Was that a threat? I quickly grew aware of my surroundings. I was trapped inside a moving car with a man that I couldn't trust. I could kick myself for not calling Mom before I left the hotel.
“However, doing so would anger Evangeline and she's made it clear that harming you would be a declaration of war.” He rubbed the plum-colored bruises on his neck as exhibit A. “Don't worry, Samara. This is not a hit. I'm just taking you home. As hard as it is to believe, I don't enjoy the idea of you or Caleb dying. I would like to avoid that if possible, but the family is under pressure and their reputation is at stake. This incubus situation is another matter altogether.”
I stayed quiet, but kept my hand on the door handle, just in case I needed to jump out.
“This demon presents a very beneficial opportunity for all of us. As you probably know, incubi are rare. The Cambion families have made a point of keeping it that way. There hasn't been one reported in over a century, and to have one come to light and captured, well, it would restore the faith in the Santiago name.”
“So you want to catch the demon so the family can regain their street cred? What's in it for us?”
“Life,” he answered simply. “If the demon is captured with your help, it would be a sign of good faith and devotion to the cause. They're all about loyalty. They eat that up.”
I'd seen enough crime shows to know what this was. The cops would make a deal with the small time street dealer in exchange for info to get to the big cartel guy. Ruiz wanted me to sell out Tobias to save my own neck. Everything in my body screamed “take the deal,” but something wasn't right.
“Angie told me you're a Santiago.” I waited for him to flinch or have any reaction to my words, but mannequins had more emotion. “You're not a Cambion, so how did you get involved in all this?”
“It wasn't always that way.” He nestled in his seat, as if knowing it would be a long discussion. “My birth name is Ruiz-Santiago. Ruiz is my mother's name. It's a Cuban tradition to have both last names of your parents. It helps when I want to go unnoticed during investigations. Like Petrovsky, the Santiago name goes a long way in our world, and I don't want that following me while on a case.”
“I'm curious, how many siblings do you have?”
“Five brothers, three sisters, and a whole lot of cousins,” he answered. “That's one thing about Cambions; they're a horny bunch and they believe in large families. The Petrovskys are the smallest family on record, if I'm not mistaken, which might also explain why you're so valuable to Evangeline. Children are important to Cambions.”
I'd figured as much, and I thanked my lucky stars that I was on the pill. “Were you adopted? How did you dodge that bullet?”
“A very interesting turn of phrase, because that's exactly how it happened.” At the stop light, he undid three buttons on his shirt, and revealed a raised white scar over his heart. “I was off duty on my way home and a kid was robbing a convenience store. Pulled the trigger without thinking twice. Next thing I remembered was waking up in the hospital and there was nothing. No humming, no pressure on my spine, no spirit.” His gaze drifted past my shoulder to another point in time.

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