Something in Enoch’s tone triggers a warning inside of me, and I look at him for a second, trying to put my finger on what it is.“Enoch, I meant it when I told them that I don’t think you guys are Chosen.” Something flashes in Enoch’s eyes, but I can’t identify what it is. I look at the others, and I’m surprised to see something similar in Kallan’s eyes too.
“What makes you say that?” Nash asks me, with no hint of emotion indicating how he feels about things one way or another.
I look at each of them in turn and try to sift through what I’m feeling. “My connection to you guys feels different than it does with my Chosen. The attraction is different.”
“So you’re not attracted to us?” Nash asks, confusion lacing his voice.
“No, I mean, you all are hot, don’t get me wrong, but with them, it was like I was body slammed by it. Everything clicked and felt so easy and right.”
“So you want us to be easier? Because I’m game…” Kallan announces as his face lights up with a cheeky smile.
I roll my eyes at him and bite back a chuckle. “No, fuck, why is this so hard to explain? Things are easy with you guys, too, but not in the same way. It’s like how I am with Mave.”
Kallan pretends to take a knife to the heart while croaking out, “Friend-zoned.” He’s still smiling that smart-ass smile, but there’s hurt in his eyes.
“Is that because you just refuse to look at us that way, Vinna? I mean, with what happened with the shifters when we first met and then being taken by the lamia, there’s always some kind of drama getting in the way. Don’t you think that could be clouding how you see us? What if your magic has chosen us too? If we asked you a month ago if you’d have any more mates, you would have insisted the answer was no, but now you have Torrez,” Nash points out.
I snort and shake my head. “That is accurate. I didn’t see Torrez coming, but I was a little bit in denial of the pull.” I sigh. “I don’t know what your markings mean; all I know is it just feels different to me.” I look to Enoch, knowing he needs this hammered home more than the others, but I can tell he’s not hearing me.
“But, like you just said, you don’t know for sure,” Nash points out. I fight the urge to glare at him for once again circling back to the fact that I can’t give a definitive answer. I honestly don’t even know why he’s pressing. Nash has never really looked at me like he’s at all interested.
“Technically, no, I can’t say that I know for sure. But your marks aren’t anything like the marks the rest of my Chosen have, and that supports what I’m feeling.”
Enoch opens his mouth, and I can practically see the argument on the tip of his tongue. “What if I marked you for someone else? You could be Chosen, just not mine. Have you given that any thought?” I ask them, and Enoch promptly swallows his argument and closes his mouth.
“Maybe,” Kallan agrees casually, and then he reaches for my hand. “But how do you explain these then?” he counters as he lines up both of our middle fingers and the identical runes that line them.
“Really rad friendship bracelets,” I say, but it comes out like I’m asking a question. Kallan laughs. “Listen, Ass Daggers,” I start, and he puts a finger up to my mouth to stop me.
“That is not a thing, don’t try to make it a thing. Shitty nicknames can go both ways,” he warns, and I smile.
“Fine, Kallan, to answer your question, I don’t know, and you already know that because I’ve said it a billion times already.I don’t know,” I confess, even though I want to crush the words in my throat to keep them from leaking out and giving any of them hope. I want to squash it once and for all and make everything easier on me and them and the guys, but there’s nothing else I can say to Kallan’s question. As much as I fucking hate it, the reality is I just don’t fucking know.
They don’t feel like my Chosen…but they could be.
7
Lunch is about as awkward as I thought it would be. Each of my Chosen have questions burning in their eyes, and despite my efforts, I haven’t been able to squash the hopeful light that reflects back to me in Enoch’s and Kallan’s gazes. I have no idea what Nash thinks about anything. Sometimes he pushes like he’s on the same page as Enoch and Kallan about wanting to be Chosen, and other times he seems completely indifferent, but it’s the least of my problems right now. Silva, Aydin, and Evrin announce that they’re going to head out after lunch and might be gone for a day or so depending on where the trail of lamia leads.
I finish off the last of a yummy potato dish, whose name I can’t say, and silently wonder if I’ll ever eat another thing not cooked by the sisters without missing them. I make a mental note to call them later today, and then I add Mave to the list too. My ears perk up when I hear the mention of the barn area and the words “off limits” spoken in the same sentence. I fight to keep from snorting at Silva’s warning to stay away, because if he knew shit about me, he would know he pretty much just lit up a neon sign asking me to snoop through whatever is out there.
“I’m prepping some spells with the shifter toxin you all brought, and I don’t want to risk anything messing up the volatile potion until it’s ready,” Silva tells the twins casually, and they nod in understanding.
Knox inquires about what kind of spells Silva is working on, but as soon as the discussion gets technical, I can’t follow what the hell they’re talking about anymore. Ratios of ingredients to woven magic, the time it takes to adequately cook a certain potion, the time it takes a spell to settle. It all sounds so intense, and I’m reminded of something Sabin once said about how Spell casters were like chefs. I haven’t seen Knox in his element with his branch of magic, but it’s not hard to picture him apron-clad and cooking away, with a wide smile on his face as he rocks out to music and adds a pinch of this and a dash of that.
Like he can feel his name in my thoughts, Knox looks over and gives me the same wide smile I was just picturing in my mind. I haven’t seen much of that smile in the last forty hours. A part of me wants to seize it and shove it in the pockets of my soul so I can pull it out whenever I need it and Knox isn’t feeling obliged to send a new one my way. Aydin pushes his chair back from the table and stands up, his eyes jumping to each of us briefly.
I don’t know what it is about Silva and this entire situation that has me feeling leery, but I can’t shake the feeling. I didn’t miss that he never answered my question about how he and Lachlan and Keegan ended up here, and I decide to see if I can find some answers for myself as soon as Silva, Aydin and Evrin leave. I debate for a moment about including the others in my hunt for clues, but with all the tension and bickering still going on, I decide it will just be easier if I check things out on my own first.
“If we need anything, we’ll call. If shit goes down, I’ll send a sign. If neither of those things happen, then we’ll see you soon.” Aydin laughs, and it’s joined by a couple chuckles here and there, but I’m not in a laughing mood. I don’t think that doing the very thing that got Lachlan and Keegan caught by the lamia is exactly the soundest of plans, but I doubt Silva would listen to anything I have to say about that. I keep my reservations to myself and my mouth shut as Evrin and Silva join Aydin in standing up. They all say a brief goodbye and then stalk out of the room.
I turn to Sabin and trace my finger over one of the trees tattooed on his arm to get his attention. His forest-green eyes meet mine, and his plump lips offer me a sweet smile.
“When everyone’s done eating, we need to continue training. I’ll meet you back there, but will you run them through the same exercises we were doing earlier?” I ask.
“Of course. You okay?” he queries, and I nod and give him a demure smile before pushing away from the table. A few of the guys watch me leave, but no one says anything, which I’m grateful for. It means I can save my diarrhea cover story for some other time. I sneak through the main house and out the back door with no one the wiser. I check out the back of the house to make sure no one is watching me, but the windows are empty, and the faint sound of the guys talking is still coming from the direction of the dining room.
I slink away from the white stucco walls, out toward the trees, moving in the direction of the roof that I saw earlier when Aydin pointed it out. It’s dark outagain. Apparently, Belarus gets very little daylight in the fall and winter, and we’ve passed the three-hour window where the sun comes out just long enough to remind us of its existence before it flips us the bird and disappears once more. There are enough flood lights on the back of the property and around the house that training in the dark isn’t a problem, but as I move further into the trees, I become more aware of how foreign everything around me is. There’s an ominous feel to the forest here, and I don’t know if the trees themselves are radiating that or if it’s my mind and my suspicions getting the better of me.
