Cloak of Deceit: An Alex Moore Novel (7 page)

“Is this what you see?” I slid off of the stool and stepped around the counter to face him, to take in the full glory of his figure and the energy emanating from him.

“What?” A thread of apprehension entered his voice as I stalked towards him.

“This.” I ran my hands along the outline of his shoulder and arm, slipping just over the surface of the shiny coating.

He took in a sharp breath, and a shiver ran down his body.

I cocked one eyebrow and stroked the light again, across his chest, just shy of actual contact.

As my hands skimmed over Julian, the yellow faded to a deep purple. He closed his eyes and held perfectly still as I slowly circled, trailing my fingers through the edge of his essence, or whatever it was. A familiar taste spiked the air, like honeyed whiskey. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath of it. “So many new things. They’re the supernatural senses you were talking about, right?”

He swallowed. “What do you sense?”

“You.” I kept my eyes closed and swirled the feeling of him around in my mind. I wanted to coat myself in it, wrap it around me like a thick blanket of butterscotch.

“What about me?” he asked, voice gone husky. He turned around slowly, his breath warm on my forehead.

“I can smell you, taste you,” I said, too intoxicated by it to be shy. My skin was warming just being so close to his body, and I was acutely aware of the fact that minus two pieces of flimsy cotton, I would be naked in front of him. I recognized the heady feeling swamping my system. I’d felt it before, when Cody had bitten me.

“That’s normal,” Julian whispered. I felt his voice like drops of warm oil down my back.

I swayed on my feet and opened my eyes to find Julian staring down at me, his lips half parted, eyes darkened with a wild heat. The dangerous kind of heat, the kind that I could never resist.

Oh boy
.

“What do I taste like?” My question came out a breathy whisper.

One side of his wide, luscious mouth curled. “Like ripe berries. And rain.”

I reached through the purple energy haze between us and placed one palm on his chest, leaning forward slightly. His gaze fastened on my lips.

I gave him a sultry smile. “And what color am I?”

He blinked, confusion plain on his face. “Color?”

“You were golden, and now you’re purple.” I glanced up and down his body — openly admiring it for the first time. He had a build that promised power and strength without being overly bulky, and he looked like he knew how to use it.

Who was I kidding? Julian was
big
trouble.

“I don’t see any color.” He stepped back, shaking his head. “You’re seeing auras. That’s a psychic gift, not an Undead sense.”

Well, shit.

Julian’s aura shifted to a dark steely grey, swirled with stripes of white. Was that fear? Anxiety? He probably didn’t have a book to help me figure that out. It didn’t matter — I’d just reminded him I was the same as his enemies. Nothing like that little tidbit to kill the mood. His exotic fragrance faded too, though a bittersweet aftertaste lingered in the air.

I sighed, my shoulders slumping, and searched for an internal button to turn my “psychic gift” off again.

Julian wouldn’t look at me. He stood a few feet away, sifting through a stack of mail on the counter, effectively shutting me out. I suddenly felt like a much bigger imposition.

Unwelcome everywhere, safe nowhere
. That was my new mantra.

I cleared my throat. “So, what do we do now?”

“You probably want a shower and some clothes. The sun will be up in a couple of hours. Undead are naturally nocturnal, so I’m sure you’ll need some rest.”

Yeah, right, like I was going to be able to sleep knowing a band of psychics bent on my destruction were out there searching for me. Not to mention the whispering voices waiting in my dreams. I shook my head and wrapped my arms around myself. “I meant what are you going to do with me? Am I your house frau now?”

I hated how weak that sounded. Normally, I was a go-to girl. I took care of myself. Even if that meant I got in a jam, I always figured my way out. But now I was a nobody in a new game where all the rules had changed. Despite my instincts to the contrary, I had to count on Julian to call the shots until I found my footing, and trust him not to misguide me or let me down. I should have known better to rely on any man that hit my buttons the way he did, but what choice did I have?

He sighed. “I have to make some calls, inform my superiors of the situation. They’ll want me to bring you in tomorrow.” He ran his hands over his face — his first show of tiredness since I’d met him. I would have to try harder not to wear out my welcome.

“And, what if…” I stopped, afraid to ask the question that came next. What if the Cloak had the same thought as the Grigori? What if they wanted me dead, really dead? What would Julian — my Undead Knight in black trench coat — do then?

He looked me straight in the eye. “I don’t know.”

Well, at least he’s honest.

Chapter Five

J
ulian wasn’t kidding about the nocturnal part. Despite feeling like I was waiting for an unseen jury to convene on my fate, when the sun came up, even my anxiety about my situation couldn’t keep me awake. I fell asleep curled in a ball on the sofa watching Saturday morning cartoons. At some point, Julian must have carried me to his room and tucked me into his bed.

That good deed on his part led to a series of dreams involving Julian at various levels of undress and coated in honey. Better than the nightmares I’d been afraid of. I woke promptly at dusk to find it pouring outside. He’d left me alone in the house, but his truck was still parked out front, which I assumed meant he was busy doing something on the property.

The TV couldn’t hold my interest for long. Mass media brain rot seems so pointless when you’re dead.

I pulled on a sweatshirt I found in a neatly folded stack of them in the closet, bypassed the mug and heating instructions he’d left for me on the counter, and hopped barefoot along the stone pavers connecting the house to the garage out back.

The lights were on, the windows steamed up. Pink Floyd played distantly in the background. I paused outside the door, wondering if I should interrupt, but the rain sluicing on my head made up my mind. I knocked twice, slipped in, and shut the door behind me.

Julian had outfitted the garage like a gym, with wood floor half covered in mats. The walls were unfinished, the beams exposed, but directly across from me stretched an entire wall dedicated to displaying a collection of knives and swords.

My host was working out with a bag hanging at the other end of the room, shirtless and barefoot. He completed a few punches and kicks before acknowledging my presence.

“Sleep well?” He seemed to be in a better mood than when we’d last spoken. Maybe it was the workout. Did Undead still have endorphins? I’d have to look that one up later.

I couldn't help staring as he crossed the room, admiring the cut lines of his chest and arms. Sweat glistened over his bronze skin like an Aqua di Gio ad. I’d dated a few jocks, but I’d never been so close to a naked torso of that caliber. It was a little overwhelming. I had to remind myself to close my mouth.

He tossed me a cocky grin as he wiped his face, then sipped from a bottle of blood.

“Breakfast of Champions?” I gave him my most dazzling smile in return.

He scowled, looking offended as he wiped his mouth.

“Jeez, tough crowd.”

Mental note: keep the sarcasm to a minimum.

It wasn’t Julian’s fault I found him utterly gorgeous and therefore a threat to my wits. I needed my wits. Making jokes was the best way I knew to create a casual rapport, but insulting him was poor repayment for his hospitality.

I sighed, facing the Wall-o-Blades with my hands tucked behind my back. “Can you use all of these?”

“Do you know how to fight?” His tone was light and curious as he approached. The smell of him intensified as he closed in, a salty masculine musk that gave me flashbacks to all of those wicked dreams. I decided to try not breathing for a while.

“No, but I play soccer. I’ve given a few girls bloody noses, and I broke my Clavicle once. Is this what you do for fun, Jules?” I started to lift the biggest mama sword from its resting place.

Julian stopped me with a gentle hand on my arm. “I’m a warrior. It’s part of my job, not a game.”

Back to Mr. Serious again
.

“Sorry. I’m just bored. I can’t go anywhere or call anyone. What am I supposed to do, just hang out inside all day reading manuals?” I tried not to be obvious about the fact that I was checking him out, but he was so close it was impossible not to. There were several interesting scars all over his body. I was sure each one had a story, and I would have been happy to listen…while giving them a closer inspection.

He let a slow, secretive smile loose, as if he could read my thoughts. “I’m sure we could think of something.”

I glanced away so he wouldn’t see the effect that innuendo had.

Julian lifted another sword from its mount. The blade glinted with menace as he waved it in front of him and brought it upright. He took two steps back onto the mat in the center of the room. “Come over here.”

I gave him a skeptical look, but followed. Whatever he had planned, which judging by the smirk on his face was something at least
he
would enjoy, it had to beat moping and watching re-runs of The Bachelorette.

“Spread your legs.” He tapped my thigh with the broad side of the sword.

I cocked one eyebrow at him. Was this a game of chicken? Or was it just me with my mind in-between the sheets?

He smirked. “Get in an athletic stance.”

I decided to humor him and obeyed.

He stepped up behind me and positioned my hands on the sword and adjusted my grip. His warmth seeped in anywhere he touched me. “This is a Japanese katana. It’s single-bladed, with one sharp side and one dull.”

I nodded, twisting it in my hands to look at the blade edge.

Julian moved his hands to my forearms, squaring his chest against my shoulders, and I almost forgot to hold the sword up. He was going to have me sweating before the workout.

“With a single-bladed sword, the best strike is a diagonal slash, from collarbone to hipbone.”

He lifted my arms up and to one side and guided me through the motion.

“Mm-hmm.” I watched the light shine off the blade as we brought it down at an angle, then did the same from the other side. I was more aware of the feel of Julian’s body against mine than of anything he was saying. The scent of him wrapped around me like a cloud of warm caramel. The back of my neck started tingling again. It was an effort to keep focused as he instructed me on the proper stance and directed me through a few more repetitions of the movement.

His hands slid down my arms. He took his time adjusting my shoulders, feet, and hips, making tiny corrections. Was I just imagining he took every opportunity for us to touch? It seemed things really had changed since last night.

Julian came around to face me, his expression tinted with equal parts evaluation and…pride? I’m athletic and a quick study, but I’ll admit I was trying hard to impress him. Doubly hard to pay attention and not turn on the flirt.

“That’s very good.” He nodded with approval as I completed the motion for the fifth time.

Julian came to take the sword from me, but I stepped back. “Show me some more.”

He swept his hair out of his eyes, one side of his mouth curving up, trying not to smile. It made me want to see that smile even more — like it was just peeking out the edges, taunting me. “You want a real lesson?”

“If you think you’ve got something to teach me.”

That time, his smile came all the way out. Apparently he liked false bravado better than snark.

Noted.

My lesson consisted of learning several strikes and blocks, first with hands-on guidance, and then on my own. I felt powerful handling a deadly weapon with a little bit of confidence. I could see why he got off on it.

Julian’s appreciation of how quickly I picked things up made me feel like a born warrior who just hadn’t found her art form yet. He had a really dazzling smile when he let it show. I found myself enjoying even his serious critiquing. I was having such a good time, for a while, I forgot all about the problems waiting for me outside the confines of that garage.

Satisfied I knew enough moves, he traded out my real blade with a practice stick made of bamboo, and then things got really interesting. We sparred, and Julian didn’t cut me any breaks. He danced around me, pointing out my weaknesses at every opportunity, and seemed to be having a good time doing it.

He laughed whenever I growled in frustration, and if I hadn’t liked hearing it so much, his teasing probably would have peeved me.

“Are you trying to get me to throw you into the wall again?” I threatened, sucking on a finger he’d smashed, completely on purpose.

The smile dropped from his face and he stepped off the mat, lowering his weapon. “Good point. We should stop.”