Relish: A Vicious Feast Book 2 (32 page)

Thirteen-year-old boys are a mystery to me. Broody one minute then tugging on my hair the next. They are all over the place, both with their emotions and their use of their powers. My mother says it’s the hormones, whatever that means. And because of it they get into a whole mess of trouble. The cousins are currently banned from attending any festivities after they set off fireworks indoors. Stupid, but so funny. Watching the women cover their precious hair from the sparks was the highlight of the season.   

Shaking my head, I return my attention to doodling. My pen hasn’t dropped. I grin, getting the hang of my telekinesis. My father has been hounding me about my training of late. I can finally show him what I can do. Granted, just doodling runes…
for now
. Sometimes I wish for a brother or a sister so not all the attention is on me. Being the Vessel isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. What does being all-powerful and being the protector of your people even really mean?

Once the class settles down, Dray and Laurel finish up their demonstration.

Moira leans closer and whispers, “What do you think of Luka?”

My shoulders hitch up slightly and I lose my concentration. The pen drops then rolls across my notebook. My gaze flicks back to where he’s gathering his materials. He and Demitri are next. 

“What do you mean?” I whisper back so quietly, words barely form out of my lips. I’m afraid he’ll somehow hear me from all the way across the room.

“Exactly what I asked.” She twirls a strand of her auburn hair.

“Well, I don’t get what you mean.” I slump in my seat and cross my arms. “I hate it when you’re being cryptic.”

She sets her elbow on the armrest so her lips are closer to my ear. I resist the urge to bat her away. She’s my best friend, but sometimes I need my space. “I’m not being cryptic. I’m just asking you what you think of Luka.”

“Okay…” My eyes follow him as he and Demitri saunter to the front of the class. He’d grown several inches over the summer. “He needs a haircut.”

“That’s not what I mean.” Moira swats my arm playfully.

“See?” I give her a sidelong glance. “You’re being cryptic. What exactly about Luka do you want me to tell you?”

“Well…” She taps a corner of her lips. “Like the way he looks.”

“I just said he needs a haircut. What more do you want me to say?”

“Do you think he’s cute?”

I lean away from my seat to gape at her. “Cute?” The word tastes nasty in my mouth. “Luka?”

Moira drops her gaze and plays with the ribbons on her lilac dress. Soft pink stains her cheeks. “Yeah. Cute.”

Not believing what I’m hearing, I say, “Moira, we grew up with the guy. We used to jump in the lake naked together. And remember the time when our parents stuck us in the playroom after having cabbage and beans for lunch? The smells that came out of the guy aren’t close to anything resembling cute.”

That gets me a giggle. “That afternoon was the worst. I had to burn my dress and wash my hair twice.”

“See? And now you’re asking me if I think he’s cute?” I stare at Luka as he stands confidently with Demitri by his side. They are explaining how to make stink bombs. Skunk spray and rotten eggs are involved. He flashes me a grin and I roll my eyes at him. Boys. Will they ever take anything seriously? But when his eyes meet mine my heart flutters like a hummingbird.

“Cute?” I repeat.

“Oh, forget it!” Moira shakes her head and returns to taking notes.

As if I can now that she’s put the idea in my head. Maybe Luka isn’t all that bad. A flash of memory returns me to my room during a particularly nasty storm. I was five. I couldn’t sleep because of the booming thunder and flashing lightning. No matter how small a ball I curled into beneath my sheets and hummed my favorite lullaby, I couldn’t drown out the ear-splitting noise. With tears rolling down my cheeks, I bolted upright at the loudest
boom
yet. It was like the sky was exploding above me. I rushed out of my room and down the hall in my long, white nightgown to the only place I knew I’d feel safe. I veered left just as lightning flashed, closely followed by thunder so loud it rattled inside my chest. I ran faster until I reached Luka’s room. I wrapped both my hands around the knob and pushed inside.
Boom! Boom! Boom!

I covered my ears and rushed to the big four poster similar to mine. Pushing aside the curtain, I crawled onto his bed. He was lying on his side, sound asleep. I paused, blinking at him. How could anyone sleep through all this? I squeaked at the next thunder bang and scrambled the rest of the way to him. I squirmed beneath the warm covers and scooted as close as I could, curling my body into him. He groaned. I held my breath, waiting for him to kick me out. Instead, he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me closer. Tilting my head up, I caught his eyes slit open. A burst of lightning transformed the blue to silver.

“What are you doing here?”

The admonishment in his voice made me whimper. “I can’t sleep.”

He chuckled. “Scared of a little storm?”

As if insulted by his comment, the next lightning and thunder combination was louder. I thumped him in the chest with my tiny fists then burrowed even closer than I already was. Our legs tangled like twisty vines.

“Don’t say that! It’s only going to get worse.”

Chuckling again, he tucked his chin on top of my head. “I’m not the one making it worse.”

My eyes sprung wide open. “What?”

“Your fear…” His arms tightened around me like he was shielding me from the rain. “It’s what’s making the storm worse. I’m going to need you to calm down.”

“I can’t.” As if to prove the truth in what I said, lighting slashed down to the ground chased by a thunder crash. I cringed, biting down hard to keep from screaming.

“You have to.”

“Can I stay here tonight?” I asked hesitantly. Just because he had his arms around me didn’t mean I could stay. He could still send me to my room. I prayed really hard he didn’t. I knew I wouldn’t be able to walk the halls while the wind was howling and the sky was ripping apart. I began to shake and he rubbed his hands up and down my back.

“Don’t cry,” he whispered.

“I’m not crying.” I sniffed, swiping my knuckles over my eyes.

I felt his chest press against me as he took a deep breath. When he exhaled, he said, “You can stay. Of course you can stay.”

Letting out a breath of my own, I unclenched my fists and dried my eyes on his nightshirt. The leggings he wore to keep warm tickled my calves. Comfort, like the sheets surrounding us, enveloped me. But just when I thought I could sleep, the next thunder clap jerked me awake. I fisted Luka’s nightshirt.

“Will you sing to me?” I squeaked, feeling the sobs climbing my throat again.

“Sing?”

“Yes,” I said desperately. “It helps me fall asleep.”

“Okay.” He closed his hand around my nape and gently massaged me there. “What kind of song would you like me to sing?”

“Anything. Just sing.”

Nodding once, he cleared his throat and soon the sweetest melody left his lips.

Sleep now my love,

as angels watch you from above.

Know that I am with you,

always, always with you.

I will protect you from harm,

forever keeping you safe and warm.

Sleep now my love,

tomorrow we listen to the mourning dove.

There is nothing to fear on this night so clear.

Sleep now my love and show me what you dream of.

Know that I am with you,

always, always with you.

Sleep knowing my love for you is true
.

The rhythmic up and down cadence of his voice calmed me. Despite the storm raging outside, the magic in his lullaby drew me in. My eyelids drooped as he repeated the song, this time in a quieter voice. The in and out motion of his chest rocked me gently. My breathing soon matched his. My fists released their death grip on his shirt. On the third repeat of the song, I hovered close to losing consciousness. The warmth and the darkness would take me soon.

“Luka,” I mumbled, pressing closer so my nose was buried in cotton. I inhaled. He smelled spicy and sweet. “Where did you learn that song?”

I felt his shrug more than saw it. My eyelids were too heavy to open anymore. “I made it up.”

“You made it up.” My words ended at a yawn. “For me?”

“For you.”

I no longer heard the storm outside. “Sing it one more time?”

And he did, sending me the rest of the way into sleep.

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY
-S
IX
W
INTER

We spend the winter months at Eclipse Keep. Its location up in the mountains provides an array of snow-related activities to choose from. Yeti riding. Wolf sledding. Ice skating. No hands snow ball fights. And lots more. Phoenix and Yana are particularly obsessed with curling. Snowboarding is more my thing. There’s nothing like the rush of barreling down half-pikes made of packed snow. The freedom I feel. It’s as close to flying as anyone can get without having to use the powers that be.

After a day of skiing, everyone gathers by the roaring fire pit sipping spiced hot chocolate and telling ghost stories. We have a bet going. The person who spooks all of us wins an entire month free of chores—i.e. we would be the ones slaving away, doubling our workload. This, of course, gives rise to fierce competition.

As I lounge in an ultra-comfortable stack of pillows, I chuckle at the argument ensuing between Dray and Demitri as to who should go first. The brothers always bicker. If it leads to punches I’m out of here. Phoenix just finished telling the story of a doppelganger who, when seen, can kill. Yana chimes in saying it doesn’t matter who goes first because she’s the one who will obviously win the contest. I’m content to stay out of it like Graham and Laurel. Watching the blood sport from the sidelines is way better than participating in it, especially when Yana begins to speak with her hands flailing. A smack or two isn’t far behind.

I cup my hot mug with both hands and inhale the sweet, spicy steam. The thick brew reminds me of Luka—rich and complex. He remains a mystery to me. At sixteen, he’s grown several more inches, towering over me. He’s still lanky in some places, but his shoulders…I bite down on my bottom lip hard. I mustn’t think of him that way.

Earlier this evening, Moira burst into my room flushed from frolicking in the snow and more excited than usual. I sat in front of my mirror, brushing out my hair. When I asked her what had gotten into her, she said tonight was the night she was confessing everything to Luka. I almost dropped my brush. I’ve known about her feelings for him for some time. It was always “Luka is so handsome,” “Luka smiled at me,” “Luka helped me off my horse.” Her chattering sent a pulse of pain to begin behind my eyes. She told me about her plans of luring him away from the group gathered by the fire pit under the pretense of getting more hot chocolate for everyone. A solid plan, I told her, nodding my agreement despite the sudden weight at the center of my chest.

It’s been ten minutes since Moira left with Luka. I imagine them standing by one of the balconies under the light of the full moon. She looks up at him all dewy-skinned and doe-eyed while he gathers her in his arms. She says she loves him, that she’s been in love with him for the longest time. He smiles that devilishly sexy grin I like most of all. The one that never fails to make the girls swoon. Then he tells her he feels the same way and bends down as she tilts her chin up to meet him halfway.

I’m off the nest of pillows so fast the argument that’s escalated into name calling stops abruptly. Everyone’s eyes are on me, expectantly waiting. I stand there for the longest ten seconds of my life, unsure of what to say. My gaze drops to my half-full mug.

“I need a refill,” I say in a shaky voice.

“Luka and Moira are topping us off, right?” Phoenix asks. In her furs, she resembles a snow bunny. I adore her. And from the look Demitri gives her, he feels the same.

“They don’t know the way I like it.” And just when Yana opens her mouth, I add, “Plus, I want to check what’s taking them so long. As you were.” I turn on my sheep-skin boots, my voluminous winter skirt ballooning around me, and scamper away before anyone can say anything else.

What am I doing? I don’t need a refill. And the last thing Moira needs is me butting in on a private moment between her and…Luka. The same Luka who doesn’t hesitate to comfort me when there’s a storm raging outside. The same Luka who’s rescued me from embarrassing myself in front of others countless times. The Luka who protects me even when I don’t need it, and composes songs for me.

The more I think of him the faster my steps toward the kitchen become. I pass a couple of maids carrying fresh linen. They curtsy. I give them both a quick smile without slowing down. I don’t really know where I’m going. They’re not in the kitchen if Moira’s confessing. I imagined the balcony scenario because that’s how I would do it. The thought stops me cold, my hot chocolate sloshing dangerously in my mug. I shouldn’t have decided on the white wool with the gold lace inlay. Who was I dressing up for anyway? If I ruined this gown, Mother would be beyond furious. I set the mug down on a pedestal with a bust of my great six times grand uncle on it.

“Sorry, Uncle Boris.” I clap my hands together as if in prayer and bow my head before resuming my search. What exactly am I planning on accomplishing? Did I want to run into them and act surprised? And ruin the moment? Moira would never forgive me. Yet my feet won’t stop moving and my eyes continue to dart every which way with the hopes of catching sight of them. I’m insane. I should turn back around, pick up my mug from Uncle Boris’s pedestal, and return to my cozy seat by the fire. The two of them might be back by now for all I know. Maybe even holding hands.

The image twists my gut.

My rush slows to an amble. Why does the possibility of Luka sharing Moira’s feelings bother me? He’d always been there for me, sure. We grew up together. We
all
grew up together. We might as well call each other family. Still the inside of my chest feels hollow.