Everlasting (Night Watchmen, #1) (12 page)

That I can survive.

“Faye.” Someone is shaking my
leg. “It’s morning. Wake up.”

“Morning?” I hear myself saying, but not really understanding. I know I was just dreaming of something important, something about my parents. I stretch my legs out, trying to recall the last bits of the dream. I know it cou
ldn’t have been good. My heart’s still racing because of it, trying to catch up with my brain.

Wait a second.
I stop moving and open my eyes.

“Do you always squirm in your sleep?” It’s Jaxen’s cool voice and shamelessly handsome face that greets me. He appears somewhat amused, and I think it’s at my expense. No, I know it’s at my expense. A heat wave of awareness spreads across my face and down my chest. I snap straight up and scramble with the sheets, backing all the way up against my headboard.

He’s in my room. He’s in my freaking room.

“Why are you in my room?” I ask as I pull the sheet all the way up to my eyes.

“It’s time to go train. That’s why. You overslept.”

I peer over the edge of my sheet to the clock on my nightstand. “It’s four in the morning! Leave!”

He yanks the sheet from me, and I don’t think he’s prepared for what lies beneath. I’m only wearing a thin black spaghetti strap top and lacy pink boy shorts, not something he needs to see me in, not something I’m prepared for him to see me in.

His body tenses from head to toe. His eyes widen and then look away. His cheeks darken in shades of r
ed I can relate to. I think I’ve reached the climax of mortification.

“What the hell!” I yell as I reach for the sheet, snatch it back out of his hands, and jerk it up to cover as much as possible. “Don’t you know anything about privacy?” I scowl up at him.

“Nope,” he says flatly, almost forcefully. His shoulders push back as he hardens himself. “You need to get used to this if you’re going to survive a day in this Academy. My brother is much worse.” He sets his eyes on mine, and his face is a mask of confusion and conflicting emotions, emotions I’m not sure I’m ready to understand.

“Is he now?” I grip the sheet a little tighter, trying to maintain a good scowl.

“Yeah, I always slept with one eye open,” he says neutrally. It’s hard to tell if he’s joking. I hope he is. He clears his throat. Without invitation, he sits on the edge of the bed, looking way too delicious for it to be this early. I quickly run my fingers through my hair, hoping that it isn’t too tangled, even though I tell myself it doesn’t matter.

Yeah, that’s a big fat lie.

“Do you always just barge in on people’s personal space?” I ask, growing frustrated with how easily he makes me come unglued.

“Do you always wear your emotions on your face?” he shoots back, his scowl returning. He looks away from me, focusing on something across the room. “Look, this world…it’s rough. It’s going to be rough from here on out, especially for you. You should try not to show everything you’re feeling or you’ll be an easy target.”

He looks at me and, in that look, I know he’s only trying to help. His eyes have softened enough to reach past my protective wall. His voice has thinned enough to slip past my agitation. He stands. The bed creaks as his weight disappears. He walks over to the armoire, opens it, and proceeds to pull out clothes for me- a fresh pair of black skinny jeans, a black t-shirt, and a tight, black leather jacket with a patch on the left arm; the Night Watchmen’s uniform. The uniform is supposed to keep anyone from thinking they’re better or more privileged than their fellow Coven members. Material wants go out the door when you become a Watchman. Your primary focus is supposed to be only about taming the paranormal population. The patch is the Primeval symbol- a pentacle in a circle with three quarter moons wrapping around it; two on the sides and one on top. It’s supposed to represent the Horned God for Hunters and the Goddess for Witches, both surrounding the elements. Altogether, it stands for protection and balance and shows other Coven members that we’re on their side.

I’
m about to become one of them for real. Branded and united.

I wrap the sheet around myself without looking in his direction. I know I shouldn’t be bothered by such a small thing, but I am. I’m not prepared to stand in my unmentionables before him. I’m not prepared to be in my room with him period. He’s still tossing clothes on my bed when I’m secure enough inside the sheet to stand.

“It’s cold outside, so you’ll need that jacket,” he says. “Gloves are in the pocket. When you’re done getting dressed, we’ll head out.” His words are flat and his eyes are everywhere but on me. He’s like trying to read Braille. He starts for the door and I don’t stop him.

I turn back to the clothes and, with a heavy sigh, pick them up and head for the bathroom. I take a quick shower, trying not to notice the odd-shaped heart on my arm, dress, and then try to decide how I should wear my hair. I’m not really good at making this decision. I know I shouldn’t care. ‘Doing’ my hair has never been my thing.

I stare into the mirror and almost laugh at myself.

“You’re being absurd,” I tell myself, shaking my head. But even with admitting this, I still manage to brush my hair out and braid it from one side of my head to the other, giving it some form of cuteness. I could be a stereotype. I could fall into the trap of trying too hard. I could be someone other than myself for him.

And I don’t like it.

I undo my braid and run my fingers through my hair, straightening it back out. I want to look as plain as possible. I need to.
He has a Witch, Faye.
I grab my chapstick and my jacket, and then meet him in the hallway. He’s leaning against the wall with one leg propped up. The moment he sees me, he tosses me a protein bar.

“Eat it while we walk. You’re going to need it.”

I lock the door and follow his steps down the hall while unwrapping the bar. I have to force myself to eat because my nerves are so wound up. They’re having a party in my stomach that I’m not invited to.

We step out into darkness, and the wind almost blows us back inside the building. He zips his jacket up and shoves his hands into his pockets, then turns to look at me. I put the protein bar in my mouth to free my hands and fumble with the zipper on my jacket. The gloves are a bit too thick for me to get a good grip. The zipper sticks, and I yank for a second before Jaxen notices and offers his help with a slight chuckle.

“Hang on a sec,” he says, slowing my hasty tugging by enclosing his warm hands around mine. My eyes lift to his and I have to swallow. His hands are like live wires sparking against my skin, straight through the material of my gloves. He lightly tugs the zipper free, and then slowly guides it up to my neck. His hand lingers for a second at the top of my jacket, and his eyes meet mine. They are two intense dreams I want to immerse myself in.

I force myself to look away from him and out into the foggy morning. In a matter of one day, I’ve managed to forget how to think properly. I’ve managed to slip into the blinding grip of attraction. I’ve managed to make a total ass of myself.

I pull the protein bar from my mouth and say, “Thanks.”

One of these days, I’ll get a grip.

“Yo,” a male voice calls
from somewhere up the fog-covered hill. His voice is a notch deeper than Jaxen’s and brimming with confidence.

“Do you always have to talk like you have no sense?” Jaxen replies bleakly. He’s shaking his head when a man appears from out of the fog.

Gavin, I assume, smirks at him, wearing nothing but a pair of black sweatpants and a long sleeved t-shirt. He resembles Jaxen in the face, but his body is thicker and tastefully aged. His dark brown hair is slightly longer and messier. Bright blue, ruthless eyes zero in on me, eyeing me up and down. I fidget under his gaze, hating the way I’ve suddenly become so aware of how I look in front of them.

“Are you going to introduce yourself, or just ogle the Middleton’s daughter?” Jaxen says sourly.

To my surprise, Gavin laughs, shaking his head. He places a heavy hand on Jaxen’s shoulder. “Oh, dear brother, if you’d just let me pull that stick out of your ass, we could get on with life. It’d do you some good.” My eyes go wide. He turns to me. “I’m Gavin Gramm, the one and only, and you must be Faye. It’s nice to meet you.” He extends a hand out accompanied by a warm smile.

“Nice to meet you too,” I say as I hesitantly shake his hand.

“Are we good? Can we go?” Jaxen says quickly with a note of irritation.

Gavin looks at me and rolls his eyes with a smile. “Whatever you say, princess,” he calls over his shoulder. Jaxen’s already making his way up the hill, disappearing into the fog. “He’s a little temperamental,” Gavin says as we follow after.

“I didn’t notice,” I reply dryly. “So what are we doing?” I wish we were already in the middle of whatever
it
is that we’re about to do. I don’t like being strangled by the grip of anticipation. It leaves me feeling jittery and light-headed.

Jaxen stops walking, turns, and exchanges a secret look with Gavin. A smirk breaks across Gavin’s face. He looks over at me. “Behold the Gramm tradition for solving matters of who goes first. You might even need to brace yourself, or something.”

My brow dips in confusion. Jaxen stares at his brother with a shadow of a smirk, never saying a word, and, like clockwork, they ball their hands into fists, preparing for a game of rock-paper-scissors.

“What…” I start to say, but Gavin counts them off. Their fists slam into their palms, and then they reveal their choice.

Gavin is paper and Jaxen is rock.

“Like always, after you, brother,” Gavin says with a winning grin. “I’m only here to keep you in check anyhow.”

Jaxen sucks in a small breath, and then looks at me, forcing a smile. I force the same smile, trying to understand what’s going on. What could be so bad that they had to play a game of rock-paper-scissors to get out of? Discomfort spills down my spine.

“Well?” I ask.

“Today’s lesson is something every novice goes through at some point during their time here in the Academy,” Jaxen says cautiously, like he’s walking onto a battleground. I already don’t like what he’s going to say next. I can tell by the tautness of his face that he’s preparing himself for me to disagree.

“It’s kind of like a rite of passage.”

“Okay.”

“Maybe even a test of courage.”

“Could you spit it out already?” I ask, growing wearier by the second.

“You have to go through the enchanted forest.”

My eyes wander past him to the dark shadow that lines the top of the hill. “The enchanted forest?” I repeat. Fear clenches its hand around my spine, just waiting for the moment to pull. To cripple me.

“It’s not that bad,” Gavin throws in, tossing an arm around Jaxen’s shoulder. He’s all confidence and smiles and laughter. “I mean, sure there’s an occasional Werewolf, Vampire, and maybe a few temperamental Sprites, but, I can assure you, you’re in good hands. They’re placed there for a reason. It’s the on-hands training grounds for novices while they’re here. Where else can they safely be attacked?”

“Safely attacked? How are you going to help if something goes wrong? Your Witches aren’t here.”

“They’re a safe distance away,” Gavin says. “You can be a few miles apart and still have your power.”

“You’ve tested the theory?” I ask.

“Of course.”

“Still, how is going into the enchanted forest going to help me? I thought you were supposed to be training me?” My eyes find Jaxen’s, searching for something I don’t think he can offer me. Comfort. Not in this moment.

He ducks out from under his brother’s shoulder and steps closer to me. “This is training. We need to know where you stand with your strengths if we’re going to properly train you, so we’re throwing you in the water. It’s up to you to sink or swim.”

“Give it to me lightly, why don’t you,” I mutter under my breath, trying not to succumb to the fist clenched on my spine.

He sighs. “All you have to do is jog the trail through the forest.” He says this like it’s no big deal, like it should snuff out every flame of fear building within me. “If you can make it through the dangers, you’ll prove to the Night Watchmen that you have the backbone needed for this job. For this lifestyle.”