The Valkyrie's Guardian (6 page)

“Looked to me like you would.”

Cassie and Lyssa both observed another tense exchange between the two men. Finally Kyros said out loud, “If she hasn't been informed, then you are indeed to blame.”

“I have no intention of tellin' her, because I have no intention of — ”

“Jack! Kyros!” Cassie nearly shrieked, resisting the urge to pull her hair. “Quit talking over my head. What should I be informed of?” She turned to face Jack, and her heart sank to see him completely shut down, his mind sealed shut, any hint of the sweet connection that flowed between them already cold.

“What?” she demanded of Kyros, but his expression was neutral. It took every ounce of restraint not to scream. She was simply too old for tantrums, no matter how aggravating these men. “Kyros, Jack tells me the sky is falling. You must have top secret
stuff
to discuss. I'll take myself to the kitchen now so you can have your tree house club meeting.”

Even after four years to get used to it, Cassie still resented Lyssa being Kyros' right hand while Cassie stayed utterly in the dark as to their superhero escapades. It really stank being the liability, the damsel in distress. Jack undoubtedly now disclosed to the others what she'd been dying of curiosity all day to know.

She was halfway to the back door when Jack caught her arm. Her breath hitched as he planted a blistering, tender kiss on her lips. Short but hot, like the one on the boat today. He pressed his lips to her temple as he whispered, “I'm sorry, Cass.” She stared dumbly as he loped back toward Kyros and Lyssa, the ever-persistent Cat tagging along.

Cassie wished she didn't love watching him move, all fluid grace and leashed power, like a jungle cat. She resented discovering a deeply sensual side to him. It contradicted everything she'd assumed about him. Too bad it was over, no chance to enjoy and explore it. He had bluntly said so: he would never … get involved with her, she assumed was the second half of his statement.

Fifteen minutes later she was still hot and bothered. She watched a triple serving of roast beef spin, mesmerizing on the microwave plate. Then she sliced the only remaining avocado in the kitchen. She ate the sections raw, peppered with the spiteful flavor of revenge, any way she could get it. She should have known. Jack never came home with the same girl twice, so why would she be any different?
Bimbo of the week, that's me.

She tried not to think about the way Jack made her feel, drugging her mind with what seemed like the sweet beginnings of something permanent and real. Cassie had been kissed by other men before and liked it, but that she and Jack scalded the grass and steamed the air into vapor summed up the superior experience aptly.

Cassie let the microwave beep impatiently as she hunted through the cabinets for Anne's secret chocolate stash. Kyros' mortal human housekeeper wasn't here to defend the booty, so Cassie helped herself to a Kit Kat and then a Reese's. Whoppers came next, then a Butterfinger called in a tiny voice,
Eat me! Eat me!

She relished the creamy smooth flavor, tasting the nutty overtones on the back of her tongue and enjoying the rich smell and the slow slide of liquid chocolate down her throat. It would taste like poison and trigger violent stomach cramping for an immortal extra-sentient, as they required the most nutritious and natural of foods to maintain their longevity. They weren't even tempted by unwholesome food and drink, and such an indulgence was a method of macabre suicide for their kind.

Cassie assumed her reaction to the opposite meant what she'd been suspecting for a while: not immortal. She already knew she wasn't very powerful. So, the fates played hilarious games, trapping a second-rate extra-sentient in the same house as three immortal genius superheroes. While they went adventuring she would wait home, never far from a bodyguard, and grow feeble and die while they remained timeless and perfect.
Har-har.

She crushed the wrappers one by one into tiny pellets of cellophane. She didn't find it very funny.

“See my friend over there?

He wants to know if you think I'm cute.”

—Jack MacGunn, King of the Bad Pick-Up Line

Cassie could always count on Jack for two things: he would come from near or far at the sound of food cooking in the morning, and he went ga-ga over women in workout clothes. Forget lingerie — Jack wanted yoga pants and a racerback top. This morning Cassie brought out the heavy artillery with both his vices: smoothies and spandex. Revenge, torture, either would do.

Ice clunked around in the blender as she added peach slices, raw almonds, yogurt, and lemon rind. Perfect timing — Jack jogged down the stairs and nearly tripped over Cat, dropped his duffel and made a beeline straight for the kitchen. He rocked back on his heels, apparently expecting Anne the housekeeper, not Cassie. She made a point of opening the fridge as he entered, as though she hadn't seen him.

When she turned around, his eyes widened and he visibly swallowed hard. Unapologetically, his eyes roamed from her long swinging pony tail down over her shoulders exposed above a skin-tight cropped tank. His eyes lingered on her navel, watching it contract as she breathed, before scanning up and down her legs once, twice, and again. He wore the expression of a tiger watching a platter of meat through the bars of his cage.

“All the subtlety of an anvil, Jack.”

“I might say the same to you, sweetheart.”

He approached from behind, and she let him wrap his arms around her waist, but she dodged his kiss and made him peck her cheek instead. Jack made no comment, and Cassie pretended she hadn't just reacted like a firecracker at his touch.

Jack made a disgruntled sound in his throat. “You went running without me again?” He sniffed the back of her neck down to where her arm met her torso. She noticed that he'd actually shaved when he nuzzled his face on her skin. It seemed an animalistic gesture, dragging long breaths and sighing. He
liked
that post-workout smell?

“I was unaware you are my keeper.”

He huffed, “You don't even try to fit in here, do you?”

She turned and scowled. “What's that supposed to mean?” She had to half-shout over the blender noise.

“The way you talk —
convent princess
.”

“Forgive me if I don't speak caveman as well as you.”

“Honey, you were raised by aristocrats and nuns. And Kyros, for the love of Pete, who could kick my ass into tomorrow, is the world's biggest science geek. The apple didn't fall far.”

“Me?” She laughed coldly. “That's grand, coming from a man who turns his brogue on or off, depending on whether or not a girl is watching.”

That got him.

“Sometimes you're mean.”

“I say whatever comes to mind.”

“You're a spoiled brat, Cass.”

She slammed her mind shut and bit down on her lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her rattled. “I suppose this is where I call you a jerk and we go on as usual?”

He shook his head and stared with a raw look in his eyes that made her want to squirm. His fingers drummed on the small of her back. She let the silence hang. He still stared. No way would she fall for his puppy dog eyes. What a player.

She turned back around, cursing under her breath. He kept his arms tight around her, and she couldn't help feeling some sort of messed-up pleasure over it. She sliced strawberries and ignored his fingers tracing the slope of her neck from the nape to between her shoulder blades. His presence brushed her adamantly closed mind like a dog scratching at the door to come in. She ignored him and added more fruit to the smoothie.

Cassie nearly jumped when Jack's arms reached around her to drop a peeled banana into the blender. He hooked one arm around her waist as he leaned to pull a handful of wheat grass growing in a windowsill pot. The grass went into the blender, as well as a scoop of bran, which required him to press his hips into hers to reach the canister.

She sliced fresh avocado and he purred in approval, an overtly sensual sound right in her ear. Cassie remembered being entertained as a kid by Jack's lifelike animal noises, but the jungle-cat-purring against her neck now made her want to stretch out on the counter and arch her back. Still, she feigned nonchalance.

She scoffed as he drew his KA-BAR from his pants to cut coconut chunks. Couldn't he use a sanitary kitchen knife? Blueberries and carrots went in the blender as his knee rubbed the inside of her thigh — he was trying to coax her into submission. Persuasive, but she couldn't let him blow hot and cold and think she would still be at his beck and call. Girls who did that got into all kinds of trouble.

He poised his hand over the top of the blender, ready to crack a raw egg when Cassie cracked first. “Gross, Jack! I draw the line there.”

“Great protein. Grows hair on the chest.”

“Just what I need.”

“Generations of your ancestors ate this for breakfast every morning.”

“I know — the two-minute egg. Kyros still does, and it's gross.”

He reached for the blender again. “You won't even taste it.”

“No egg!”
She blocked the top with her hands. “See? The smoothie already looks disgusting. No reason it should stink too.”

She realized the revolting sewage color would be lost on him, as he probably only saw an indeterminate shade of gray-blue. He dropped in five more peels of lemon rind and two pinches of cinnamon.

“Back off, you're ruining my smoothie.”

“I like these pants, Cass.” He ran his fisted hand down the outside of her thigh and back up, thankfully without breaking the egg. He teased it over her navel, tracing in circles with a more facetious mood than seductive.

“Not a chance,”
she insisted, sending a mental explanation to include both the egg in the smoothie and his playful advances.

“I think you'll change your tune.”

“Wishful thinking, Jack.”

I'm going to tell you everything about last night.

Her heart leaped and she spun around to look at him. His eyes reflected sincerity. She wanted to squeal and cheer, but instead she played her cards close. She cocked one eyebrow and said coolly,
All right, dish.

Breakfast first. Make it look innocent, I'm not supposed to do this. And Kyros has the ears of a bat.

Jack chattered out loud about nothing while she poured their vomit-looking smoothie into tall plastic tumblers. He suggested they go out on the beach, and she understood he wanted the noise of the water to obscure their conversation. Kyros and Lyssa came through the door as Jack was about to open it. Cassie smiled at Kyros' snarky T-shirt which read
, I'm huge in Japan,
and saw Lyssa surreptitiously give Kyros' backside a rough squeeze. An electric charge vibrated the air, his pupils dilated. Cassie and Jack took the cue to flee. Cat darted out the doorway behind them with her ears laid back.

Newlyweds,
Jack groused, and they both chuckled. Kyros and Lyssa's fourth anniversary had come and gone. Still they behaved like horny teenagers. Four years, and Cassie was still jealous. How would it be for a man to need her like air to breathe? A fairytale she would never have believed if she didn't see the way Kyros and Lyssa looked at each other.

Jack took a long drag on the straw and complained, “Needs egg.”

He collapsed on a hill of cool sand, lying flat on his back with his cup tilting precariously in his fist, uncaring that he dusted himself in sand. His other hand patted the ground beside him, and Cassie sat after extricating that infernal cat who had wormed her way in first. Cat hissed in protest, Cassie hissed back and tossed the feline away while Jack chuckled. Apparently his considerable thermal output was in demand.

Without preamble he whispered,
Want to know why I can't tumble you first, or what the big deal with the Lake Powell ranger is?

Cassie hid her shock at his bluntness.
First tell me why you're disobeying orders. I'm not in the club, remember?

You should know. And I won't keep secrets from you anymore. I refuse.

She could see there was more to it but didn't press her luck. Besides, his confession had already sent her soaring, and she thought she might throw herself at his feet. At last! She arranged her features into a gamely expression but was still not ready to hear whatever filled in the blank for why he didn't want her.
Okay, what happened at the lake?

The man you had the sudden urge to dismember is one known only as Boris. Russian, low-grade extra-sentient. Known minion of Merodach-the-Oh-So-Dead.

Did he recognize you?

Hope so. Mine was the last face he saw before he choked to death on his own blood.

You killed him?

Obviously not.

When was this?

Four and a half years ago. Before Lyssa defeated Merodach in Paris.

Cassie didn't want to distract Jack, or she might have admitted his smoothie concoction was surprisingly tasty.
Okay, so Merodach found Boris and healed him,
she guessed.
No one else could have done it … except Kyros.

Seems so.
He watched her lips on the straw then shook his head as if to clear it.
He's a hunter. A kidnapper. I had a hell of a time keeping him from infiltrating the London academy.

What does he want?

What you don't know is that Merodach set up an operation in the U.S. He had two goals, to infiltrate the government and brainwash captured extra-sentients for his own army. Kyros thinks someone else is running the operation in his legacy, and Boris is his henchman.

Cassie already knew extra-sentient children were Kyros' top priority, and having spent four years in his academies herself, she knew how carefully they were guarded.
He wants the academies,
she breathed, wary of the nervous rhythm of her heart pounding.
Who's behind it? And why Lake Powell?