Everlasting (Night Watchmen, #1) (18 page)

“Don’t answer him,” Jaxen says, moving around my chair to get in Chett’s face. His chest is bulked up, the muscles in his back flexed to the point of stretching the leather in his jacket. He walks Chett a step back. Chett bows up, bumping Jaxen back with his chest. He’s clearly an idiot.

“Come to protect your stupid Witch? Going to beat me up?” Chett breaks off in laughter, looking around the table as if everyone else should be laughing right along with him, but they aren’t. Their eyes are like mine, wide with fear and centered on Jaxen, the Hunter with the power to hurt Chett if he really wants to.

A low growl comes from somewhere deep inside of Jaxen, slowly building and radiating through the hall. The chatter inside of the hall dies off as every head turns in our direction. Volation races down Jaxen’s arms, sparking with blue lightning, something only a seasoned Hunter could do in the hall and so far away from his Witch.

Something only a Night Watchman could do.

Chett takes a step back, his face paling a little. He must finally realize that Jaxen isn’t just another novice. “I see. A bodyguard for super freak here.” He points to me, but his shoulders are tense. He’s scared. He grabs Katie’s arm and tugs her up out of the chair, knocking the edge of her plate in the process. Food flies into the air, landing on the ground in between us.

It’s so quiet now; I can hear the sound of my heart pounding in my ears. Katie’s eyes flicker to mine, and something inside of me breaks at the sight of fear on her face, the same kind of fear I felt before the Culling. Jaxen takes a step in Chett’s direction, but I move between them.

“Let her go,” I say evenly, demandingly.

He glares down at me, his grip tightening around her arm. “Or what? Going to have your boy toy do your dirty work? She’s my property now,” he spits out. He jerks Katie’s arm and pulls her away from me, moving toward the exit.

“Just let it go, Faye. This is my problem to deal with.” Katie doesn’t even look at me when she says this. She tries to pull out of his arm, but he lifts his hand like he is about to strike her.

My rage is a caged animal finally let loose.

Instinct, or something Primeval coursing through my blood, snaps open in a flurry. An angry growl rips past my lips as I lunge for Chett, throwing myself onto his back. I start punching him in the head. Tiny, crackling sparks ignite with every hit, growing stronger and stronger. I can feel the volation waking inside of me, the electricity in the air waiting to be tapped in to. There’s also a force, the one implemented to keep novices from using their powers outside of the classrooms, trying to dampen my power, but I shove it off, determined to prove a point. I pull hard on my power, using it to make my hits count. The lights flicker in and out the more I pull, filling my arms with electric power. I slam one fist into his ear, and then the other to his temple.

He thrashes and reaches for me, trying to pull me off of him while the whole dining hall chants, “Fight! Fight! Fight!” all around us. I see red, focused on the sole intent of revenge, revenge for hitting my best friend, revenge for hating what can’t be controlled, revenge for taking away her control.

I’m so caught up that I barely feel Jaxen’s hands around my waist, prying me off of him. I can’t tell who I’m hitting anymore. I can’t even tell where Katie is. All I see is anger and hate and a need to release everything that’s been locked deep inside of me.

“Faye!” Jaxen barks, shaking me one good time.

A veil lifts from my eyes. I blink, and then blink again. Blood covers my fists, and there’s a stinging sensation on my lip. I was hit? I didn’t even feel it when it happened. I jerk my head around him, searching for Katie. All I see is blank stares. Chett’s on the ground next to me, blood pouring from his nose and eye. His friend is hunched over him, glaring up at me.

“Crazy freak,” he spits out.

I don’t wince. The words bounce off of me. I flex my bloodied fist at him, still clinging to the edges of anger. The front door to the dining hall bursts open. Three Elders flood through the doors, eyes scanning the crowd. They were probably summoned by my misuse of power, sent here to deliver punishment.

I gulp.

“Let’s go,” Jaxen says, his hands still on my waist. My skin burns achingly underneath my shirt from his touch. He lightly pushes me forward, walking me in the opposite direction of the Elders. The novices in the dining hall scatter about as they all scramble to leave. No one wants to be around when there’s trouble with an Elder.

“Where’s Katie?” I ask, stopping to look past him. His grip tightens around my waist.

“Todd and Jia took her away after you started fighting. I told them to,” he says in a hushed voice, guiding me to a side door. He’s using the movement of the novices to our advantage. We’re walking as quickly as possible without giving us away.

When I step into the cold night air, he finally lets me go. I’m all too aware of the disappearance of his hands. I tuck the thought away as best as I can, knowing it’ll lead to nothing good, only expectations unfulfilled. Pain ignites in my hand and in my jaw. I reach up to rub it, but Jaxen pushes my hand away. “We need to get you hidden for now, at least until I can talk to Mack about what happened.”

“Where?” I ask, my head starting to throb on the side. I forget about my lip and lick the outside, wincing from the sting. Chett must’ve punched me, but everything is just a huge blur. All I can remember is the anger and the power.

“I guess you can come back to the room Gavin and I share. You should be safe there.” My heart jumps at the mention, but I do little to show it.

I nod and follow after him across the lawn toward the Elder’s wing. My mind scatters, jumping from thought to thought as if I was crossing a river bed full of rocks. On the other side is the solution to what just happened, but at the thought of me fighting, something I’d never done in my life, I slip off, crashing into cold, harsh reality.

I had really just harmed another Primeval. And what’s worse, it was punishable by expulsion.

If Jaxen is good at anything, I sure hope it’s winning an argument, because if not, I may not ever see the day that my parents are returned to me.

The room Gavin and Jaxen
share is as meticulous and as barren as my room, and it’s only one door down from mine. It’s also structured the same, only there are two smaller beds rather than one big one. My eyes wander over the pillow his head must have touched. Everything stills inside of me. I’m all too aware of the bed and of him and of me. I’m all too aware of how I feel within his electrifying proximity.

Jaxen’s on auto
pilot. He locks the door behind him and turns to the bathroom. He brushes past me, leaving a trail of his thrilling scent to follow. My nose lifts and my cheeks burn. My feet want to follow after him. They turn in his direction.

Why am I reacting this way? Why is every nerve ending in my body sparking with anticipation? Because this has been a long time coming. For weeks I have watched him, wishing for a moment in time where I could be alone with him, even if just to talk. For weeks I have caught his eyes on me when he thought I wasn’t looking. 

My skin suddenly burns to touch air. I take my jacket off and rest it on the desk, my movements more cautious than ever. My heart has wings, fluttering and flapping against my chest, trying to break through its cage. I stand in a lone ray of white light streaming from the bathroom doorway. His lean frame forms a shadow at my feet, reaching out to me.

“Come here,” he says, his tone low, husky. My heart flaps harder, wilder. He’s looking straight into the mirror. I want to be that mirror looking back at him, drowning in his eyes and words of want. His back is a mountain of lean, cut muscles. His fists are pressed against the counter, held tight and firm. Thick veins stick out from under his skin, just waiting for my fingers to trail over.

I find myself just a step away from him, my heart hammering against my chest. I don’t know why. He’s helping me, nothing more, so why do I feel so lightheaded and flushed inside? Why does my skin crave for his touch, a touch that’s sure to come, even if full of innocence?

He moves just enough to fit me in between him and the counter. I swallow down my nerves and stand in front of him, resting a hand against the marbled countertop to help stabilize me. I try not to notice the tension in his body, the way his eyes close when my leg brushes against his, the way he licks his lips when our faces come just a breath’s length away from each other.

His eyes open, and he holds me with his gaze. He allows me to see past his titanium wall. In front of him, gazing into his endless, green eyes, I know I could fall at any moment, physically and emotionally, and this scares the hell out of me. I barely know him, yet, I feel like I’ve known him forever.

He reaches behind me and turns the hot water on. He’s so close, so unbelievably close, my fingers almost slip out from under me. There’s no steadying my heart, no taming my breathing as he waits for the water to heat before wetting the towel. He lifts his other hand, and it hovers next to my waist like he’s waiting for something; a sign, an approval. I close my eyes, breathe in, and then his hand drifts down my waist where it comes to rest on top of my hip.

My breathing stops, along with my heart. My muscles clench with want. I curse the material between my skin and his hand. I want to give in to whatever delirium has taken over my rational thinking.

He gently pushes me back against the counter. The back of my legs bump against it, stopping me as he closes the distance between us. The way his body ever so slightly presses against mine ignites a flame inside of me, burning and aching for more of his touch. His hand lifts, slightly shaking, and then brushes the hair from my face until it comes to rest at the base of my neck. He’s a pyromancer, controlling and building the fire within me. The firmness of his grip sends heat to places I’ve never felt heat before.

His eyes lock on mine. His other hand lifts, bringing the towel just to the edge of my lip where the cut is. I wince when he presses it against my mouth and squeeze my eyes shut.
Shut the pain off
, I tell myself. I had during the fight without even trying. I open my eyes again and focus on the color of his, the deep evergreen color that displays wisdom. He’s looking down at my mouth, still wiping away blood. His eyes brush mine again, and then move to the cut on the side of my eyebrow.

My heart feels like it could drift away at any moment with all the fluttering. There’s such a gentleness about him, a kindness that has yet to be shown, and yet, here he is, showing it to me, to someone who had brought this upon herself.

“Thank you,” I say after I find my voice again. There’s so much heat between us, and still too much space. I want to be closer. I want to try him out, to try whatever this is out.

“Don’t thank me,” he says after a moment, his low, deep voice stirring me like a pool of melted chocolate. “I’m doing what any respectable person would do. You did the right thing, though I wish it had been me pounding his head in instead.” His eyes flash to mine again, and they’re brighter now, deeper.

“He hurt her.” I can barely get the words out without trembling in anger again.

“And he will be dealt with as soon as I talk to Mack.” He sounds just as angry, just as hungry for a fight. He puts the towel down and lets go of my neck.

If I could summon the courage I had in the dining hall, I’d pull him back to me, but I stand here, doing nothing as he walks out of the room.
What are you doing
? I ask myself. He’s off limits. Taken. Claimed.

But I can’t deny what’s there, what I see in his eyes, what I feel deep down no matter how badly I want to lie to myself.

He comes back in the room with a small medical box and sets it down on the counter. He flips it open and shuffles through the contents. “You know, based on what I saw, I think we can skip the basics and go straight into the real training.” He looks up at me. “If you want, of course.”

“Yeah,” I say, biting the inside of my cheek. I take it as an indirect compliment, as one Hunter respecting another.

“How did you do it?” He moves to stand in front of me. He carefully places a butterfly band aid over the cut on my eyebrow, his lips so close to my eyes. I can see the fullness in them, the smoothness just waiting to be kissed.

“Do what?”

“How did you get past the force that prevents novices from using their powers outside of the classroom?” He drops his hands and takes a step back, looking at me. He’s really looking at me, like I’m more than the average person, like I’m not someone he needs to save.

I shrug a little and think back to the incident. “I’m not sure, really. I felt it trying to stop me, so I pushed it back. I was too dead set on beating Chett down.” Just saying these words fills me with a sense of regret. Though I felt Katie had been
righted, I still knew it could have been handled better.

“It was impressive,” he admits. He rubs at the dark stubble on his jaw line, glancing down at the floor. “You’re far stronger than Gavin and I thought.”

I want to smile, to indulge in the compliment, but I can’t. The guilt of my decision outweighs the pride in being strong.

“I shouldn’t have done it.” I hate saying it out loud. I hate admitting I was wrong, especially when it felt so good at the time.

“No, you shouldn’t have,” he agrees. “You confirmed to everyone that you’re more than a dormant. The rumors will spread of your strength, of your capabilities.” My eyes drop to the floor. There’s an odd pattern in the marble that almost looks like a butterfly if you look from the right angle. His hand brushes against mine, and I jump. When I meet his gaze, his lips are formed into a perfect crescent that shines in the darkness. It’s the second smile I’ve seen in a matter of hours. I think I’m charting new territory with him.

“You’re in rare form. You’re smiling again,” I say softly, enjoying the feel of his touch as his hand continues up my arm.

“I am,” he agrees. The way he’s looking at me steals my breath and sends my heart racing for the finish line; so much passion, so much longing. His hand stops on my neck, gripping me with a gentle firmness. “I’ve never encountered anyone like you, Faye. You’re strong and brave and true. You’re intoxicating, and you don’t even realize it. And you’re making it impossibly hard to resist you, to resist whatever is happening between us.”

“So then why try to?”

As if awakened by my words, he pulls me against him, his eyes roaming over my lips. I let myself touch his chest, enjoying the way his heart pounds like mine beneath the soft material of his shirt, almost as if we are one. We stand there, not moving or speaking, just being. He leans forward, tilts his head, drops his eyes to my lips again, and I think he’s going to kiss me. I will him to. I need him to.

But then the door in the other room bursts opens, stealing away a moment that never really had hope to begin with.

“Brother,” Gavin shouts.

Jaxen jerks back, letting me go. He leaves the room without looking back. “In here,” he says, walking back in with Gavin.

“Whoa,” Gavin says after looking me over. “Someone got into it, and I think I know who.” He’s eyeing me down, wiggling his brows with a proud smile plastered on his mouth. “Word has spread even outside of the Academy. Damn, cell phones.” He shakes his head. “So, what’d ya do, little kick ass?”

I’m still trying to catch my breath when Jaxen answers, “She got into it with another Hunter. Beat his ass down. He’s her friend Katie’s Hunter. The
asswipe hit her before dinner.”

Fury flickers in Gavin’s eyes. “He what?”

“Yeah,” Jaxen says, rubbing the back of his neck. “He’s one of the Carter’s kids.”

“The Witch-haters?”

“Wait...so the rumor is true?” I ask, feeling the ground slip beneath me.

“The Carters are one of quite a few families who don’t hide their distaste for Witches and the proclamation set in place. They blame Witches for having to share power. They give us Hunters a bad name,” Gavin says.

“And, unfortunately, the thought process has trickled down the gene pool. It’s an ongoing issue that we’re all aware of, but not allowed to speak of,” Jaxen adds, his eyes on the ground.

“If you ask me, it’s going to get out of hand. One of these days, the Witch-haters will rise up the same way Mourdyn and his Darkyn Coven did. I can feel it,” Gavin says, crossing his arms over his chest.

Jaxen nods. “Hopefully we won’t be around when that day comes. We have to tell Mack. Get him to cut her some slack.” He’s talking about me, but still refuses to look at me.

“Most definitely,” Gavin agrees. “I’m going to give him a call before the other Elders find out she’s here and come for her.” Jaxen nods, and then Gavin leaves the room, leaving us all alone again.

My throat clenches and my stomach has a weird twisting pain in it. I know the moment is gone. He’s gone back to hide in whatever hole is gaping in his heart, but I still have this small inkling that I can bring him back, that I can go for that third smile. I’m still standing in the bathroom, and he’s at the door, his back to me. I can tell he’s nervous by the way his back is rising and falling at a rapid pace.

“Jaxen?”

“You can sleep in my bed, and I’ll take the floor,” he says, his voice devoid of emotion.

“That’s it?”

He still doesn’t turn, doesn’t speak.

I wait a moment longer, willing him to say something, wanting him to see that I’m safe ground, that I’m trust worthy, but he doesn’t. “Fine.” I shove past him and kick my shoes off, tucking them under his bed. I crawl onto the mattress, pulling the blanket all the way
up to my face. All at once, I’m surrounded by his electric, musky scent, and I can’t separate my rage from my disappointment. I can’t separate rationality from irrationality. I can’t separate his pain from my pain.

What’s with him? One minute he’s hot, the next he’s frigidly cold. I have to remember that he has a Witch, a Witch who has access to his thoughts, a Witch who clearly has feelings for him.

I wait, hoping that maybe he’ll say something, anything, but I hear him shuffle out of his shoes. He pulls a sheet off of Gavin’s bed and steals a pillow, and then drops it in between the beds. How can he sleep after that? I roll over, staring at the wall. My eyes sting and my head pounds.

I don’t know how long I stare, moving from thought to thought, but eventually I hear Gavin creep back into the room. He climbs into his bed without a word, probably assuming we’re both asleep. I shut my eyes, refusing to spend another second on him, and somehow, someway, drift off into sleep.