Kindred (The Watcher Chronicles #2) (18 page)

"Guess I'll just have to remember to burst into tears every time I tell you to stop."

Mason chuckles harder.  "Please, don't do that on my account.  I meant what I said.  I die a little every time I see you cry.  It hurts me to see you so sad."

We're silent for a while before I ask, "Stay with me tonight?  I don't want you to go."

Mason kisses me softly on the lips.  "Your wish is my command."

Chapter 14

When I wake up the next morning, I hear the water in my bathroom turn off and know Mason has just taken a shower.  The idea of such an intimate sharing of space makes me smile.  I’m happy he feels comfortable enough in my home to move around like it’s his too.

I roll over and grab his pillow from the other side of the bed hugging it to me.  Inhaling deeply, I briefly wonder if the euphoria I feel from just breathing in Mason’s scent is similar to how cats feel when they get a whiff of cat nip.  The idea of Mason being my cat nip makes me giggle.

“What’s so funny?”

I roll back over and see a half-naked Mason standing in the doorway of my bathroom using one of my monogrammed white towels to dry his hair.  He’s shirtless and barefoot, only wearing a pair of black slacks.  I feel my heart begin to race at the sight of him and sit straight up, continuing to hug the pillow to keep my world from reeling out of control.  My breathing becomes shallow, and I have to remind myself to swallow before I start drooling all over his pillow.  Clothed, Mason is irresistible but half-naked his effect on me overpowers all of my senses, making it virtually impossible for me to even think straight much less form a coherent sentence to answer his question.

He walks over to my side of the bed and sits down, still rubbing the towel against his wet hair to dry it, patiently waiting for my answer.  What the question was has totally escaped my mind because all I can think about is him. 

I let my eyes freely roam over his tightly toned muscles and silky smooth skin.   Tentatively, I place an open palm on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart.  He stops drying his hair and rests his hands on his lap, silently giving me permission to continue my exploration.

I swallow hard as I slowly sweep my hand down his taunt chest to his well defined abdominal muscles.  I hear him take in a sharp breath and force my eyes to look up at his face.  He’s watching me with an intense gaze.

“Is this all right?” I ask, knowing he’s allowing me free access to his body when I’ve not been able to give him the same liberty with my own.

“I’m yours,” he says.  “Mind, soul and body.  You can do anything you want to me.”

I smile and run my hand back up his torso.

“Are all angels this perfect?” I ask, marveling at his beauty.

“I’m not perfect, Jess.”

I look back at his face and know he’s still dwelling on his scar, something I’ve all but forgot about.

I reach up and let the tips of my fingers trace the outline of the scar, wishing there was some way I could help heal his ancient wound. 

“You’re perfect to me,” I tell him and know my words might please him but he’ll never truly believe them until he’s able to forgive himself.

I lift my hand from his face and hug his pillow tighter to me.  As much as I would like to continue my exploration of Mason’s body, I know now isn’t the time.  We have work to do and if I don’t stop now I never will.

“Are we going to go get Chandler’s talisman today?” I ask.

With the mention of Chandler, I see Mason’s face darken.  “Yes, we’ll go get the boy his toy today.”

Mason stands up swiftly and I know he’s still agitated with Chandler’s antics from the night before.

“Could you find a way to not be mad at him?” I ask.  “For my sake.”

Mason walks over to a chair by the bay window and retrieves a dark gray button down shirt lying across it.  He slides his arms into the long sleeves but doesn’t button it up immediately.  I find myself completely distracted by the sight of his body peeking out from behind the shirt opening and realize I’m completely and hopelessly in love with the man scowling before me.

“In time,” he replies, drawing me back from my appreciative ogling of his persona.

“I’m sorry,” I say, "seeing you like that completely made me forget what we were talking about.”

The scowl on Mason’s face disappears to be replaced by a boyish grin which completely scrambles any functioning brain cells I have left.

“In time,” he continues in an amused voice instead of an angry one, “I will probably forgive Chandler for what he did.  But don’t begrudge me my disappointment in him.  I need for him to know such behavior won’t be tolerated, which is why I’m going to go have a talk with him while you get ready.”

“Maybe I should go with you,” I suggest, remembering Mason saying something the night before about holes in walls. 

“No,” Mason shakes his head resolutely and I know there will be no argument I can give that will change his mind.  “He and I need to have a talk, man to man.  If what you told me last night is truly the way he feels about you, I’ll know.”

“Oh yeah, I always forget you’re a walking lie detector,” I say, remembering Mason telling me that was a gift of the Watchers who never drank human blood.  “Then I have nothing to worry about.” I shrug my shoulders, truly not feeling worried at all.  “Maybe its best if you hear it from him yourself.  Then you won’t have any doubts.”

Mason begins buttoning his shirt and I sigh in disappointment.  He obviously hears me because his smile grows wider.  I don’t mind if he heard me.  If it makes him smile like that, I don’t care.  I want him to know how much he affects me.  I need him to know how much I desire him because my body won’t fully let me show him.

I rest my chin on top of the pillow and wonder how long it will take for me to finally find release in his arms.  My body feels like a tense wire pulled to its limit.  The need I feel to finally consummate physically what my heart feels for Mason is almost overwhelming.  It’s the first time I feel like praying to a higher power to help me work through my issues quickly.

God’s never played a very key role in my life until recently.  To be honest, I’m still having trouble believing in him fully.  And to place my trust in him to answer my prayer seems like a completely foreign concept.

Mason leans down and kisses my forehead.

“I won’t be long,” he promises.  “I’ll know pretty quickly how Chandler truly feels about you.  If I think I can trust him around you, I’ll bring him back with me.”

“And if you think you can’t?”

“Then you might not see him for a while.”

I shrug.  “I’ll see the two of you soon then,” I say full of confidence. 

Mason phases and I get up to take my own shower to get ready for the day ahead.

I’m sitting at the kitchen table eating a bowl of Frosted Flakes when Mason and Chandler finally appear.

Chandler’s casually dressed in a white t-shirt with the words
Rolling Stone
stenciled on the front, faded gray jeans and matching jacket, and black and white Converse shoes.  He’s loosely holding his crown in his right hand.

“Should I change clothes?” I ask, guessing my thick cable neck sweater might not be the best thing to wear where we’re going.

“It would probably be a good idea,” Mason answers, coming up to me and giving me a light peck on the lips.  “A long sleeve shirt should do fine for where we have to go.”

“And where is that exactly?” Chandler asks, taking a seat across from me at the table, resting his crown on its surface.

“The Cave of Treasures.”

“Yeah, doesn’t help me much,” Chandler admits with a shake of his head.  “Where is that?”

“Israel.  On the west side of the Dead Sea near a place called Ein Gedi.”

“Oh ok,” Chandler says, obviously having heard of the place before.  “I did a concert in Israel once.  We went to a spa in Ein Gedi to relax afterwards.  Cool place.”

“I would suggest you bring your crown and sword today,” Mason says to me.

“Why do I get the feeling you expect there to be trouble?”

“Because I do,” he answers bluntly.  “The cave was a burial place for a lot of people but we’re just interested in one occupant in particular.”

“Who?” Chandler asks.

“A descendant of Cain.  His name was Jubal.”

“Why do you think my talisman would be where he’s buried?”

“People often call Jubal the father of all musicians.  He invented the very first instruments, the lyre and the pipe.  It was said he could use music to move men’s minds away from God.  It’s my guess your talisman is one of his instruments.”

“But he sounds like a bad guy,” Chandler says, somewhat offended.  “I know what I did to Jess was wrong but…”

Mason holds up his hand to stop Chandler.  “It’s not the instrument but the man who uses it that determines how it affects other people.  I’m not at all suggesting that you are anything like Jubal, but I believe his instruments do hold power and are meant to serve a higher purpose now.”

“What type of trouble do you expect to find in a tomb?” I ask.

“Some souls don’t always pass on,” Mason says.  “The ghosts who haunt the cave might try to cause trouble.  Your sword is the sword of righteousness.  None of them will bother you if you’re holding it.”

“How do you know Jubal’s tomb hasn’t been ransacked after all this time?” Chandler asks.  “It’s been a few thousand years right?”

“There was an archeological expedition back in the 1960’s but it wasn’t at the true site of the Cave of Treasures.  The location of the real cave is only known to a few angels and God.  No one has disturbed it because it’s almost impossible to find, much less reach.”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“It’s in a canyon on the side of a steep cliff.  In the old days, there used to be a trail that went up to the cave, but after years of erosion the trail has vanished.  Plus, after the great flood the entrance was blocked by an accumulation of mud and stones.  It’s lain hidden for thousand of years.”

I stand and walk over to the kitchen sink to wash my bowl out before I go to change out of my top.  I feel a pair of strong arms encircle my waist and I naturally lean back against Mason’s chest.

“Need help changing out of your sweater,” he whispers in my ear, finding that sensitive spot behind my ear and purposely driving me crazy with his lips as he kisses me there.

“We have company,” I whisper.

“The boy is in the living room,” Mason replies, nipping the bottom of my ear with his teeth sending a pleasant shiver throughout my body.

“You keep that up and we might never get out of this house much less to this mysterious cave of yours.”

I feel Mason smile against my neck as he trails kisses down to my clavicle, eliciting a sigh of pleasure from me.  Suddenly, he steps away from me.  I turn around to face him wondering why he stopped so abruptly.  I watch him as he adjusts his pants and my eyes involuntarily spot the problem.

I smile because I love the fact that just kissing me has such an effect on him.

“Do you need me to burst into tears?” I ask, having a hard time from keeping a pleased smile off my face.

Mason narrows his eyes on me, but I know he isn’t mad at my teasing.

“Go change your shirt,” he says in exasperation.  “I’ll be fine.”

When I pass Mason, I give him a chaste kiss on the lips.

“I was going to say yes by the way.”

Mason lifts an inquiring eyebrow.  “Yes to what?”

“About you helping me change out of my sweater, of course.”

Mason raises both his eyebrows at me in surprise.

I smile sweetly at him before heading to my bedroom, alone.

I change into a peach V-neck long sleeve shirt and grab my crown and sword from their spots on my dresser.  It might seem odd to some people to keep them out in the open and not hidden away from prying eyes, but I see no reason why I can’t keep them where I can get to them easily.  Lucifer already knows I have them and Mama Lynn and Faison know the complete truth about me.  In their way, the crown and sword bring me a strange sort of comfort like my plasma pistol does, making me feel protected by their presence.

When I step back into the kitchen, Faison is there practically drooling over a half naked Chandler.  He has his shirt off and is leaned over the table signing his name on the front of it with a black permanent marker.  Faison looks up at me, her eyes as big as saucers at the sight of Chandler Cain standing shirtless in my kitchen.

“What are you doing?” I ask Chandler, setting my crown and sword on the table.

“Faison said you promised her a signed t-shirt from me,” Chandler says with a shrug.  He looks over at me and gives me a wink.  “Thought I should make good on your promise.”

I roll my eyes at him because he knows the effect he’s having on my sister.  I see Mason standing on the other side of the table, raising a dubious eyebrow in Chandler’s direction.

After Chandler is finished, he hands the shirt to a grateful Faison.

“Thank you so much!” Faison says, her eyes are lit up like its Christmas morning and a half-naked Chandler Cain is her present.  I have a feeling the picture of Chandler shirtless will forever be scorched into Faison’s memory.  She hugs the t-shirt to her and giggles.

“Did you come over here for a particular reason?” I ask Faison.

“Oh yeah,” she says, remembering there
was
an actual reason for her visit.  “Mama Lynn wanted me to remind you about George’s party tomorrow night.”

A party I had completely forgotten about.

“Thanks for the reminder,” I say, truly thankful.

“Who’s George and what’s the party for?” Chandler asks.

Faison explains.  “George is a good friend of ours.  Mama Lynn throws a party every year to celebrate the anniversary of him moving into our neighborhood.”

“He’s a tearer,” I further explain to Chandler.  “He’s been like a part of our family since he came to Cypress Hollow.  Geesh, I can’t believe it’s been ten years already.  Make sure she knows I’ll be there if I can.  It’s hard for me to plan too far ahead these days, but I’ll make it a priority.”