Hunted

- 9 - THE CONFERENCE

Mrs. D was waiting for us when we arrived at HQ, her glasses dangling on the tip of her narrow nose.

“Where have you been?” she demanded, eyes slitting like a cat’s. “We’ve been trying to contact you for hours. “Return your weapons and head straight to the conference room.”

“What’s going on, Mrs. D?” Izzy asked.

“Ask the Cardinals. Don’t keep them waiting,” she snapped.

We looked at each other. No one spoke, but we were thinking the same thing—we were finally going to get some answers.

Inside the conference room, the senior Cardinals sat at one end of the large circular table, their expressions unreadable. My grandfather, the Cardinal Psi Guardian, waved us toward the empty chairs. He wore his “leader of the Cardinals” face, not the indulgent, loving Grampa I saw around our house. Like the other Cardinals, he wasn’t dressed for hunting, which was strange. He studied me intently as though searching for something. I gave him a brief smile, which he didn’t return. Not a good sign.

“How long have you had that headache, Lil?” he asked in a soft voice, though the vibes from him indicated he was angry.

“Since the attack on the island.”

“Yet you still left the valley?”

Confused, I glanced at my friends. They wore bewildered expressions, too. “Master Haziel said it was okay.”

“Is he also the one who said you could take the dagger instead of leaving it behind to be examined?” Grampa barked.

“Yes. Didn’t he explain?”

“He is not here to explain anything, but I’m sure he gave you a reasonable explanation for allowing all of you to leave the valley after an attack and with a dagger that is practically useless.” He pinned me with a glare.

I made a face and glanced at the others. All the junior Cardinals looked down without speaking. Bran was the only one staring at Grampa as though he’d lost his mind. This wasn’t what we’d expected. I couldn’t tell them Master Haziel hadn’t approved of the way they’d kept the secret about the Tribe from us.

“You have nothing to say? Could it be that the decision to leave the valley didn’t really come from Master Haziel?”

“That is correct, Cardinal,” Bran said, leaning forward. “Master Haziel didn’t suggest it. I did, and he supported my decision. I thought seeing Mrs. Watts might trigger Lil’s memories, especially after some words we’d mentioned caused her to remember a few things.”

“Did it?” Cardinal Seth asked sharply, speaking for the first time.

Bran shook his head. “No, but we learned something else while in L.A. Demons visited Mrs. Watts, wiped her memories just like the ones that attacked us wiped Lil’s. Even though they also made all her children ill, we thought we might be dealing with the same demons.”

The Cardinals didn’t look surprised, confirming our suspicions that they already knew about the attacks.

“Why didn’t you come right back home once you realized the same demons were out there attacking humans?” Grampa asked.

Bran’s eyes narrowed. “We had to confirm that the attack on Mrs. Watts wasn’t an isolated incident. You told us to always confirm things before bringing them to your attention, Cardinals.”

Grampa’s eyes flashed. “That is beside the point. Lil had just been attacked, her memories wiped and she had no control over the Kris Dagger—”

“She could handle herself, Cardinal,” Bran snapped.

“You do not tell me what my granddaughter can or cannot handle.”

Bran sat back, hands fisted.

“You have no idea what’s at stake here,” Grampa continued, “the danger you put all of them in.”

“That is not my fault, Cardinal,” Bran shot back. “She would not have been attacked if we’d known what we were dealing with in the first place, how to fight them and protect ourselves. She should have been prepared. We all should have been prepared.”

“No one can be prepared—” Grampa paused then added, “Where did she go?”

Until he asked the question, I hadn’t realized I had dematerialized. I hovered near the ceiling, so angry I wanted to zap them both. It hurt to watch them tear each other apart because of me. Worse, they were fighting over something they couldn’t change.

Lil, Bran ordered, looking directly at where I hovered as though he could see me. Get back down now!

Don’t talk to me in that tone.

He sighed. Please.

No. I refuse to sit there while you two continue with your stupid and senseless fight.

“It is not senseless when you and your friends’ safety are at stake,” Grampa snapped.

He heard me? Of course, he could. He was a powerful Psi. It’s not Bran’s fault, Grampa. He gave me a choice to either stay behind or go with them. I chose to go.

“Where are you?” Grampa looked around the room, then he zeroed in on my location. “Since when can you control your movement in energized state?”

Since the Tribe’s attack.

“The Tribe?”

The shock in his voice got me to return to my seat. Heads turned when I rematerialized but I ignored them and focused on Grampa. “Yes, the Tribe, Grampa, as in the demons who attacked us. We also know they were summoned by other demons you call the Summoners. We went searching for them.”

Instead of surprise or anger, the feeling I got from the senior Cardinals was relief. Weird.

“Permission to speak, Cardinals?” Remy asked.

“You don’t have to ask permission, young man,” Cardinal Seth said sharply.

“The decision to go after the Summoners was not Master Haziel’s or Bran’s, Cardinals,” Remy said, glancing at the seniors. “We all decided to go, so if you want to yell at someone, yell at all of us.”

Sykes, Kim, and Izzy nodded.

“Now can we just be honest with each other?” I asked. “Not knowing what we are dealing with is scary. Seeing what they can do is even scarier.”

Grampa opened his mouth to interrupt.

“Please, let me finish,” I added. I glanced around at the faces around the oval table before stopping with Cardinal Moira. She might be the quietest of the senior Cardinals, but she had a way of making them stop acting like a bunch of dictators and listen to our opinions. She nodded, an encouraging smile lifting the corners of her lips. “I got lucky because of the Kris Dagger. If they’d attacked one of my friends, the effect would have been worse. We are on the same team and shouldn’t keep secrets from each other. Oh, and Bran is right. Whatever is happening to me, the headache and the heightened powers, I can deal with them now that I know their cause.”

“Their cause?” Grampa asked.

“Master Haziel said that the powers of the Kris Dagger were transferred to me. He said it was the dagger’s way of protecting…” My voice trailed off when Grampa got up, an expression of utter horror on his face. “Me,” I finished.

Cardinal Janelle gripped his arm and shook her head. She waited until Grampa sat down before she got up and moved to my side. “Show me your arms, Luminitsa.”

I shrugged off the hunting trench coat and extended my arms. There were no writings on my skin. I glanced at Grampa to reassure him, but he was scowling so furiously. Aunt Janelle beckoned Cardinals Moira and Hsia, who pushed back their chairs and joined us.

“Turn around,” Cardinal Janelle instructed.

After my meeting with Master Haziel, I knew what was coming and balked at being examined in front of the others like a freak. No. Let’s do this at home, Aunt Janelle. Please.

Cardinal Janelle glanced at her friends, then they nodded and we teleported.

“Remove your top,” one of them said as soon as we arrived in my bedroom.

My face hot, I pulled off my T-shirt and turned around. Someone touched my waist, then my middle and upper back. My embarrassment changed to puzzlement when cool air touched my neck as they lifted up my hair.

“Are they there?” I asked, turning my head to study their faces since I couldn’t see anything.

“Yes, from your lower back to the base of your skull. See?” Cardinal Hsia gave me a portable mirror and turned me so my back faced the larger one on the dresser.

Markings dotted my back like tattoos, spreading along my waist, up my spine and disappearing under my hair. I lifted the hair out of the way. They actually looked pretty. Like some ritualistic markings I should be proud of instead of fear.

“Here you go, love,” Cardinal Hsia said, handing me my T-shirt.

Cardinal Moira cupped my face and studied me intently. As usual, her hands were hot. “Do they hurt or tingle?”

“No, though I felt a slight tingle when they appeared on my hands.”

She nodded. “That’s good. You will be able to know when you are about to use them and therefore will learn to control them. It’s not going to be easy, but you can do it.”

“Master Haziel said the switch was temporary.”

The Cardinals looked at each other again.

“Of course,” Cardinal Janelle said. “Let’s go back. Your grandfather will want to know we’ve confirmed it.”

“Why was he horrified when I said the powers had moved from the dagger to me?”

The Cardinals exchanged glances again. I was beginning to hate their glances, especially since they weren’t accompanied by thoughts I could listen to.

“Your grandfather loves you and worries when anyone, demon or otherwise, targets you,” Cardinal Janelle explained. “He’ll be fine once this mess with the Tribe is over.”

Back in the conference room, my eyes sought Grampa’s as soon as we materialized. He looked like he’d aged a century. Something about having the powers of the Kris Dagger inside me bothered him.

Master Haziel said it is only temporary, I telepathed him.

He smiled, but his eyes were sad. Of course it is.

“The marks appeared on her arms when someone tried to hurt her with an athame,” Remy said, answering a question from one of the Cardinals. “She touched the blade and it caught fire. They appeared on her arms again when we met with Dante. He couldn’t get close to her without feeling pain.”

Cardinal Seth studied me thoughtfully. “So you reacted the way the Kris Dagger would react to a demonic energy.”

I gave him a tiny smile. “Yes, but the power switch is only temporary. Master Haziel said so.”

Cardinal Seth nodded, though I had a feeling he didn’t agree with me. His focus shifted to Remy. “Did her powers ebb with her headache?”

Remy glanced at me. Do you want to tell him?

No. I didn’t like the way they reacted whenever I insisted the power shift was temporary. Besides, Cardinal Seth often treated me like I was a child who needed to be told what to do. In my mood, I might make a snarky comment. I studied the other senior Cardinals instead. I couldn’t shed the feeling that they were operating at a different level from us. They were keeping secrets and only talking to us to get information. They hadn’t shared anything new.

“We visited a few more humans, whose contracts we’d canceled months ago,” Remy said, answering another question. “Their stories were the same—they had no memories of ever seeing us and their fortunes were reversed. We don’t know how widespread it is.”

“It is worldwide,” Cardinal Hsia said.

“Anything else you’d like to add?” Cardinal Seth asked impatiently, focusing on us.

“I think my brother might be one of the Summoners,” Bran said.

“Why would you think that?” Grampa asked, not masking his shock.

Bran explained his theory then added, “I’d like a chance to find him and talk to him.”

“Not now,” Grampa said firmly.

“Can you at least tell us about the Tribe and how to fight them?” Bran asked.

“We’ve never dealt with them before, but Master Haziel suggested we find the demons who summoned them and reverse the summoning.” Cardinal Janelle glanced at the other Cardinals, who nodded, then she continued, her expression earnest. “We spent the last week searching for them. When we heard rumors about the humans getting hurt, we went to investigate. Hsia treated some, but the majority of them were beyond help. However, it was too soon to conclude that the demon you encountered on the island and the one hurting humans was one and the same.”

“Since we didn’t meet any, we were beginning to doubt your account of what happened,” Cardinal Seth added.

“After today, we believe you,” Grampa said. “We owe you an apology, because their reappearance today confirms they are here and we must stop them.”

They are here and you must stop them… the words echoed in my head.

“Say that again,” I said urgently.

Grampa scowled. “Say what again?”

I rubbed my temple as I tried to grasp the elusive memory. “I’ve heard the words ‘They are here and you must stop them’ before. But they were spoken by a woman. Why am I getting snippets of conversations I’d never heard before, or are they from my lost memories?”

“Maybe your mind can provide us with some answers.” Grampa stood and Bran gave him his seat. “Lil, you know that when we mind-blend, psi energies tend to mix.”

I nodded. Earlier in the year, they’d refused to let Bran and me link, out of fear that his energy might contaminate mine.

“At times, memories and thoughts are left behind too,” Grampa continued. “They could tell us the Tribe’s plans. Also, if we find residual energy, we can feed that energy to the Psi-dar and try to locate their whereabouts.”

Psi-dar was a pool of the purest form of psi energy that Civilian security teams used to monitor demonic energies around the globe. I heard the energy came from the residual auras of millions of Guardians who’d ascended. Being around the Psi-dar was like being in a room full of ghosts, smart ghosts all thinking together.

“Is it safe? I mean, what if I contaminate your energy? Remember, I couldn’t link with Bran before because he could contaminate mine.”

Grampa chuckled. “I’ve been doing this a lot longer than Bran, so I’ll be okay. What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Walking inside Valafar’s booth on Jarvis Island,” I explained.

“That was four months ago,” Cardinal Janelle said, coming to stand behind me. She placed her hands on my shoulders and rubbed them reassuringly.

“Then we have a point of reference.” Grampa cupped my face. His hands were clammy as though he was nervous, which didn’t make sense. Grampa was invincible. I studied the others, hating the way they were watching me as if I had all the answers. “Look at me,” he added.

I tensed.

“Relax,” he said, his voice reassuring. “I’ll be quick.”

I only grew tenser. Some of my recent memories were very private. Would Grampa blame Bran for what almost happened in my bedroom this afternoon? Did it matter? A hand wrapped around mine. Bran.

Exhaling, tension leached out of me and I let Grampa take over. At first, I didn’t feel a thing even though I knew the moment our energies overlapped. There was slight pressure in my head, but it quickly passed. After a few seconds of studying his calm expression, heat crawled up my face. He was seeing everything I’d done the last few hours, including how mean I was to Mrs. Watts and everything I’d said and done with Bran.

The pressure continued to build up on my temples and I forgot about being embarrassed. He was staying too long. My eyes watered as the pressure increased. I squeezed Bran’s hand and was probably hurting him and whoever was holding my other hand. The pressure kept going up until my head felt like a nut between pliers’ teeth.

Grandpa, I protested.

A few more seconds, he responded, his inner voice harsh.

My vision blurred. A dull throb radiated from my temples, slowly building momentum like a train taking off from a station. It grew in intensity, until I thought I’d go mad. A scream echoed in my head and mingled with the searing hot pain.

The pain stopped, leaving behind echoes of it and a buzzing sound. The pressure on my temples eased. Arms wrapped around me and pulled me against a warm chest. A blend of leather and pine scent filled my senses. Bran. I clung to him, my body shaking, tears racing down my face.

“Is she okay?” someone asked.

I strained to see through the white mist covering my eyes until I saw the faces of those around me. Their gazes kept volleying between me and something to my left. I followed their gaze and gulped. Grampa was a heap on the floor, his eyes closed, skin pasty white. Cardinal Janelle cradled his head and spoke softly to him.

I tore away from Bran’s arms and ran to their side. “What happened, Aunt Janelle? Did I…hurt him?”

“He went deeper than he should have and stayed too long. Your mind did what it did to protect itself,” she said reassuringly.

“Grampa.” Wake up, Grampa. Please. This was my worst nightmare—hurting someone I loved. I touched his cheek, searched his psi energy. It was so weak. The Kris Dagger should replenish his energy. My hand flew to my waist for the Kris Dagger before I remembered that all its powers were transferred to me.

I pressed my hands on his chest. Heal him.

Nothing happened.

I clenched my teeth, my body shaking with fear. Heal him, damn it!

Nothing.

Tears filled my eyes. Maybe I was doing this the wrong way. Master Haziel always told me the strength of the dagger depended on the wielder—me. I was scared now, afraid of what I’d done. Fear weakened me, therefore weakening the powers of the dagger. I needed to find my source of strength.

Source of strength? Another familiar expression.

Closing my eyes, I let images of Grampa over the years flash through my head. Grampa cooking in the kitchen with Aunt Janelle, laughing at something I’d said, on stage at the Circus performing a trick, teaching me to sword fight, wiping my tears after I fell off a bike…

The more the images, the stronger I felt. The love I felt for him flooded my body. A tingle spread from my back to my hands. When I opened my eyes, everything was white, yet I knew everything would be okay. I pressed my hand against his chest again. Heal him.

Then Grampa’s voice reached me. “I’m okay now, sweetheart.”

“I know.” I blinked and my vision cleared. My hands glowed like a thousand-watt bulb, green light shooting from my palms to Grampa’s chest, the dark ancient writings stark against the glow that snaked up my arms. I clenched my fist and the writings ebbed as they disappeared under my skin. The light dimmed.

I got up, giving Grampa space. Color returned to his cheeks, but the silence in the room was eerie. Slowly, he stood too.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, Grampa. I would never do that.”

He smiled and patted my cheek. “Of course not, sweetheart. I was desperate for answers and went deeper than I should have.”

I searched his face. “What did you see?”

He shook his head, his hand gripping my wrist. “There’s quite a bit of residual energy left, but it’s unfamiliar. Tomorrow, I’d like you to link to the Psi-dar.”

Lucky me. I hated that pool of ghost energies. “And the memories?”

“I heard a woman’s voice though the words weren’t clear. I stayed longer, hoping to understand her words. If you remember anything at all, however small, tell me or Bran. Now I want all of you to go home and rest.” He glanced at the other senior Cardinals. “We have much to discuss and decisions to make.”

If it weren’t for my heightened senses picking up signals from him, I would have left without arguing. He was trying to get rid of us. “The woman you heard in my head, could she be the demon that attacked me?”

“I don’t know, but I’m sure the Psi-dar will give us answers.” I opened my mouth to ask another question, but stopped when he pinned me with a stern look. “We are not speculating about the identity of the owner of that voice, Lil. Now go home. You, too,” he added, glancing at the rest of the junior Cardinals.

“Did they say we can’t leave the valley?” Sykes asked as soon as we left HQ offices behind and headed toward the tunnels.

Remy chuckled. “Nope.”

“Want to hook up with the waitresses?” Sykes asked. He walked backward, hazel eyes twinkling, the meeting in the conference room all but forgotten.

Remy shrugged and the two bumped fists.

“You had time to make dates in the middle of that mess in L.A.?” Izzy asked.

“Hey, no one is stopping you from ditching Rastiel and hooking up with someone now and then.” Sykes wiggled his brow suggestively and pointed at his chest.

Izzy laughed. “In your dreams.”

“You don’t know what you’re missing,” Sykes added, smirking.

Bran chuckled. “You’re losing your touch, Sykes.”

“I’m just warming up.” He interlocked his fingers and snapped his knuckles.

“Am I the only one who feels the Seniors gave us the runaround back in there?” I asked when we stopped by the tunnel leading to my house. “The Cardinals’ behavior was weird.”

“I think they have no idea what’s going on,” Bran cut in. “Master Haziel is the one with the answers. We need to come up with a plan to make him talk to us. He’s proven to be more cooperative that the seniors.”

The others thought it was a brilliant idea. I just wanted to crawl in bed and sleep even though it was only four in the afternoon. “Master Haziel will only tell you what he thinks you should know. Nothing more and nothing else.”

“You don’t have to deal with him if you don’t want to,” Bran said.

“She must,” Kim insisted. “He has a soft spot for her.”

“He doesn’t,” I protested. “He yells at me the most. I’m definitely in. Are you guys really sneaking out tonight?”

“Maybe,” Remy said.

“Yes,” Sykes corrected him.

Telling them not to go would be like waving a red flag at a bull. “Be careful. If you haven’t noticed, the Tribe only appears when we are out there.”

“We’ll be fine,” Sykes said confidently.

“Watch your backs,” Izzy warned them, then she and Kim teleported.

I shook my head as Remy and Sykes headed toward their house. “They are so reckless.”

Bran chuckled, taking my hand. “Sykes is. Remy just goes along to make sure Sykes doesn’t do something stupid.”

No surprise there. Sykes tended to break rules with no thoughts of consequences. Yawning, I sighed. “What did we do last week when we were on lockdown?”

“We hung out and practiced. Kylie stopped by a few times. Come on. I’ve been saving something special for your birthday, which drove you nuts because you wanted to see it so badly,” he grinned, dimples flashing, “but I think you should see it now.”

I hated reminders of my lost memories, but surprises from him were always fun. They usually involved teleporting somewhere, though I doubted that would be the case this time with lockdown and all. “What is it?”

He rolled his eyes then pulled me back into his arms. “Always impatient.”

“Okay, where to?”

“My room.”

“Oh. I like it already.”

He chuckled. “It’s not what you’re thinking.”

I blushed, though I refused to be embarrassed for loving him and wanting to spend time alone with him. We dematerialized and reappeared in his room. The house was quiet without Celeste. The seniors had never said when the students would come back from Xenith.

Bran’s room looked more lived-in than I recalled. The iPod on a docking station and the laptop were new, as was an armchair and the rug on the floor. Two canvases were flipped to face the wall. Near the window sat a table with pencils and sketch pads. I knew he sketched, but he’d never shown me any of his work.

Or maybe he had and I’d forgotten. The urge to cry washed over me.

“You are worrying again,” he whispered against my temple.

“No, I’m not.”

He leaned back and studied my face. “Yes, you are.”

The urge to cry increased. “I’m trying not to, but I hate that everything is different and new because of my messed-up memories. My room. Your room. Keiran is a stranger to me when he shouldn’t be. Dante can’t come close to me without getting hurt.”

“Then mind-blend with me and relive the last four months.”

Stepping away from him, I shook my head. “No. Not after what happened to Grampa. I could hurt you too, or worse.”

“There’s a difference. He was searching for—”

“No, I won’t do it,” I insisted.

“Fine. It’s okay.” He pulled me in his arms again until I calmed down, then took my coat and threw it on the bed. “Sit. I’ll get us something to drink. Don’t move or touch anything.”

I scooted against the headboard and curled my legs under me. It was hard to get over how different his room was. I picked up his iPod and browsed through his music library. Classic rock, some heavy metal, alternative rock. I smiled when I saw some of my favorites.

“Didn’t I say not to touch anything?” he scolded.

I wrinkled my nose, took the can of cream soda from his hand and put it down. I looked at him with anticipating. “I’m ready for my surprise.”

“So am I.” He rubbed his hands as he walked backward to the first canvas and slowly turned around with it.

It was a painting of the sunset from Haleakala in Maui, our special spot in Hawaii. I hopped off the bed and went to kneel in front of the painting. The colors were vibrant. He’d even included the rock he and I had sat on, except it had our initials and a heart.

“Did we do that?” I whispered.

“You did.”

I traced the initials, remembering our vow to always meet on that mountain if something catastrophic happened and we were separated. How many times had we visited it since that first day?

I blinked back a sudden rush of tears and glanced up at him. He was such a gifted artist. “Thank you. It’s beautiful.”

“You think so? I thought I could add more color here,” he pointed at a section of the sky, “and make the clouds fuller here.”

“It’s perfect.” How could it not be? He’d painted it. For me. I stood, took the painting from his hand and propped it against the wall. But when I turned around, he was holding the second canvas—a painting of me. A breathtaking me. A perfect me.

I wore a Gypsy skirt and top, charm bracelets and anklets, and my feet were bare. I didn’t recognize the beach, but the radiant smile on my face said I was happy and in love. He’d caught my slightly slanted green eyes, made my skin more flawless, my chest…bigger. I think. I looked down, then back at the painting. I guess his perception mattered more than mine, and my hair had never been that beautiful.

“Is that how you see me?” I whispered.

He put the painting aside and smiled, closing the gap between us. “No. That is who you are.” He ran his knuckles down the side of my face. “Beautiful,” he murmured against my temple, then moved lower and pressed his lips near my ear and whispered, “Smart.” He moved lower and nuzzled my neck. “Impossible.” His breath was hot against my skin, sending a Shockwave through my flesh.

I’d stopped breathing at “That is who you are.” All I could think about was his lips against mine. When he turned his head, eye blazing, I knew my wish was about to come true.

We kissed. Pure, refined heat warmed my insides while goose bumps spread on the surface of my skin. I pressed against him, seeking his warmth, needing to forget all my problems in his arms. His fingertips flitted down my back until they reached the curve of my hip, where my shirt met my pants.

He muttered something under his breath, lifted me up and carried me to his bed, his emerald eyes intense as they met mine, his movements gentle as he lowered me down.

I leaned up and tried to pull him closer, but he resisted. Laughing softly under his breath, he ran his fingertips up and down my arms, making me tremble. Turning his head, he pressed his lips along the sensitive skin on my wrist, then moved toward my shoulder, then my neck. A few more teasing nibbles then our lips met again.

Time lost meaning. My problems melted away, by his kiss, his touch, his love. We were wrapped in our own little world, where nothing else mattered, but us and the feelings swirling around us.

But somewhere in the back of my mind was a niggling warning not to fully let go. A blend of our energies could seriously hurt Bran. Reduce him to a catatonic state worse than Grampa earlier. If I could hurt a powerful Psi like my grandfather, the things I could do to Bran could be worse.

“Thinking about the Cardinal while making out is a total ego-crusher,” Bran whispered.

I blinked, my mind slow to process what he was saying. “What?”

“I could hear your thoughts.”

I covered my face. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He pulled strands of my hair from my forehead and tucked them away. “I needed to chill anyway.” He scooted off the bed and walked to the table by the canvases and came back with two sketch books. With an uneasy look on his face, he gave them to me.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” I asked, still wishing we were making out.

“I sketch a lot.” Color rushed to his cheeks, dimples flashing. “Since you won’t mind-blend with me, I’m going to bare my soul to you by letting you see my work.”

Wanting to know why he was blushing, I pushed aside my raging hormones and flipped the cover before he curled beside me. A sketch of me baking a cake leaped at me from the page. I never cook. In fact, I hated cooking with a passion.

“That’s you taking lessons from Remy. You insisted on baking me a cake on my birthday.” He chuckled, enjoying a private joke.

“And?” I asked.

“It was pitiful.”

I believed him. “So you had a cake-less birthday?”

“No. You and Kylie had already ordered one from a local bakery, just in case. FYI, I’m a better cook than you.”

I elbowed him, then flipped the page, then the next. His blush made sense. The pages were filled with sketches of me, some going back to when we first met. Since I had never posed for him, he must have sketched them from memory. Seeing myself through his eyes was the most beautiful gift ever, and I’d never felt more loved.