Page 35 of Awakened and Betrayed
I run my fingers through my loose curls, smooth down my middle part and huff out a sigh. By the stars, I hope they don't hate me. I don't know why that's the direction my mind automatically takes me when I think about meeting any of the guys’ family. Maybe it has something to do with the less-than-stellar response I've gotten from anyone claiming to bemyfamily, but I've spent the whole time I’ve been getting ready convincing myself that if their families hate me, somehow we'll figure out a way to survive it.
Deep down in my gut, I don't believe a word of my delusional reassurances, but I keep repeating them to myself anyway. Maybe if I say it enough, put it out there in the world, it just might come true. I look outside to the annoyingly cheerful blue sky— where's a star to wish on when you need one?
I can just see the weird arena that’s in the backyard and the sight of it triggers memories of the shitshow that was my first magic tutorial.
“Vinna, you’re not even trying. Enoch, show her again,” Becket insists.
Enoch huffs out a resigned sigh and once again focuses on a patch of sand just to the left of me. It slowly begins to churn, circling around until a tiny whirlpool occurs. Then the sand lifts up off the ground and becomes a cyclone. Above my head ominous, smoke colored storm clouds form and out of nowhere a bolt of lightning strikes the center of the sand tornado, which then immediately crumbles to the ground.
Sweet Home Alabama fucking lied because there is no pretty glass structure left in the wake of the kissing lightning and sand, and I once again feel ripped off, even though this is like the sixtieth time I’ve witnessed this magical trick.
“Okay, now you try it,” Becket instructs, and for the sixty-first time today, I focus on my well of magic and call to my Elemental power. The kelly green slippery strand puts up a fuss, but eventually, I get an imaginary white-knuckled hold on it. I show it the sand tornado that I want, not even bothering with the extra pressure of the lightning show. I release the magic so it can go be one with the epic sand cyclone I just commanded it to make, but once again all that happens is a tiny little cone of sand forms in the most pathetic and painfully slow way.
Fuck, I’d take an epic sand castle at this point, but no, I once again get the fucking cone of shame. Finicky damn magic.
Becket and Kallan groan their disapproval, and Enoch throws his hands up in the air in frustration. Nash gives me a sympathetic smile, which only makes me want to kick him in the balls. I don’t need sympathy; I need to figure out why my magic hates me and thinks it’s hilarious to make me look like a raging idiot.
“They said if you see it then you should be able to do it, so what is the disconnect? Are you just not into this, or what is the problem?” Kallan demands.
“Do I have white hair?” I ask, lifting a wayward dark strand that’s escaped my messy bun. “Are my eyes suddenly glowing white and I’m just not aware of it?”
Kallan shakes his headno,confusion flooding his features.
“That’s right, because I’m not Storm or some fucking X-man. I don’t know how to make sand tornados and shoot lightning bolts from my ass!”
Kallan rolls his eyes, and Enoch throws his hands out challengingly. “Oh that’s right, ass-knives are more your style.”
“I’ll take my ass-knives over your wannabe Zeus light show any day of the week.”
We both take a threatening step toward each other before Nash rushes in between us and tells us both to cool off. Keeping things mature, I flip Enoch off as I walk away, abandoning the magic lesson that’s not going anywhere, and head back into the house.
“We’re not done with this, Vinna. You have to keep at it until you figure it out,” Enoch shouts at my back.
“Go sit on a lightning rod,” I shout over my shoulder, as I slide open the glass door that leads back into the house and disappear through it.
I shake myself out of the memory and smooth down my cardigan. The doorbell rings and the sound works like a defibrillator that’s just sent an electrical current straight through my heart, which makes the beat into a worrying frenzy. I quickly apply lip gloss, throw the tube into my bag, and make my way out of the room to the front door. I round the corner just as Nash opens the too big door and then proceeds to frown at my Chosen on the other side. Knox gives me a huge smile, and I find the happiness that’s radiating from it contagious.
Momentarily, the worry that’s riding me falls away, and excitement takes its place as I walk towards Knox in the doorway. He gives me a purposeful and appraising sweep of his eyes, and when they meet mine again I see the want there, and I can’t help but grin. With Knox, there has never been a single moment where I haven’t felt wanted and devourable.
"Hello beautiful!" he coos at me, as I reach him.
He snakes an arm around my waist and pulls me into him, placing a soft and appreciative kiss on my lips. It's the kind of kiss that steals a little of my lip gloss but doesn't smear it all over my face, which impresses me and makes me give him an approving eyebrow raise and nod as his delicious lips pull away from mine. A light glossy sheen now accentuates his plump lips, and I chuckle at the thought of leaving it there, unbeknownst to him.
I try to keep my smile from giving me away as I picture this beefy jock of a male walking around looking like he’s dipping a toe, or his lips rather, in the metro pool and flirting with a glossy feminine side.
Out of nowhere, the image of an apron-clad woman slapping a rolling pin into her open palm while glaring at me flashes through my head. I cringe at the mental image of Knox’s disapproving mom and quickly reach up and wipe away the residue of clear gloss. Knox doesn’t acknowledge his makeup wearing or the sheepish look that sits on my face as I try to tell the grumpy mental image of Knox’s momsorry.
"You ready to go, gorgeous?" he asks, not bothered or worried in the slightest about introducing me to his family.
I really shouldn’t be surprised by his casual tone andno big dealattitude. It seems to take a lot to ruffle his feathers. Hisrolling-with-the-punches-down-for-anythingcrown sits firmly on his handsome head, and he keeps his arm around me as he leads me out of the house. We pass Nash who’s standing there in all his grumpy glory, the disapproval rolling off him in waves. I can’t be bothered to sort out whatever has crawled up his ass, so I give him a wave as I leave and then brush all thoughts of him and his coven out of my mind as I make my way to the white Range Rover parked in the circular driveway.
Why is Knox driving Ryker’s car? I can tell it's definitely Ryker's and not just a Range Rover twin—which is a possibility given the caster hard-on for this make of vehicle—because of the music that starts playing when Knox turns the engine over. It’s the same band Ryker was listening to the night I stole his car. Maybe Knox doesn't own a car... hmm, I learn something new about them every day. I don't bother asking one way or the other, because it doesn't really matter to me. I wouldn't own one either if Aydin hadn't forced my hand.
"So, we're the proud owners of a house now?” I try to ask casually, but a hint of giddiness peeks through.
We pull out of Enoch’s driveway and head toward town. Knox chuckles at my question and then shoots a playful glare at me.
"It was wrong to use your feminine wiles against Bastien like that," he accuses.
