Chapter Twelve

I brush my fingers across the slightly raised skin on the inside of my wrist where the mark is. When Lumen said it would be the color of lightning, I'd assumed it would be yellow, maybe even orange. Meaning it would almost blend in with my skin. It's not yellow at all—it's electric blue. Bright and obvious.

It was simple to do. Took only seconds. I had no idea what to expect, but I'm grateful it didn't hurt. All he did was place his palm over my wrist, speak a few words in another language, and when he removed his hand, there it was. A mark made of thin lines like lightning strikes. Three of them crossing over a perfect circle. It's not something I would choose for an actual tattoo, but if it's going to keep me safe, I'd be okay tattooing a pile of steaming poop on my arm.

I was worried about getting it where someone could see, but Lumen said it had to be somewhere on the body that is sensitive to emotion, and considering I did not want it on my neck, this was the second-best choice because I wasn't letting him near anything more intimate. That's embarrassing. He may think I'm his mate, but I feel nothing that tells me the same, outside of an overwhelming attraction and feeling of comfort when he touches me. The last person I trusted was my actual mate, something I know to be true now by the way I feel, and he decided he no longer knows who I am. So, I'm being cautious. These otherworldly beings are dangerous, and being on guard around them should be at the forefront of my mind at all times. But the fact my body relaxes in their presence, and especially under their touch—or almost touch with Ves—makes it difficult. My head tells me one thing while my heart tells me something else. And my body is on its own level, doing whatever it wants.

Because of the tattoo's bright color catching my attention, I can't stop thinking about Lumen. In fact, most of my day has gone by in a blur because of it. Lumen and Vesperon haven't left my head for more than thirty seconds.

Bad shadows and good shadows. Bright lights. Mates.

I don't know what to think about any of this, but it won't stop. My head is all over the place, my thoughts running wild. I was even late for lunch, which gave me only twenty minutes to run across the street to the cafe, grab food, and eat. I swear I saw Lumen hanging around the corner, watching me, but when I got a better look, I realized it wasn't him at all. How would he know where I am? Unless he followed me this morning, but I doubt it. He doesn't seem like the stalker type. He's outspoken and honest. Too nice to be a creep.

He said he would wait at my house for me, both so we could talk when I got back, but also to make sure no other shadows try to get in. He assured me the wards he put up will stop them, but it's difficult to trust something I can't see and only just learned exists.

"Are you okay today, Lexia?" I glance up to see Mrs. Whitemore standing in front of my desk, looking down at me with a frown. There's a patient file under her arm, her pencil skirt and blouse perfectly ironed, not a strand of hair out of place.

I force a smile. "I'm fine. Why do you ask?"

She glances at her watch, then back at me. "It's three thirty and you're still here."

I blink. Then blink again.

"Oh my stars," I mutter to myself as I gather the papers on my desk and put them in the proper places for tomorrow.

"There is a man in the front waiting for you," she says carefully.

I jump to my feet. "A man?"

She nods, looking at me over the rim of her clear plastic-framed glasses with a ridiculous amount of judgment. "Make sure you get some rest," she says as I grab my bag. "I'll pay you for the extra time."

"Unnecessary. I'm sorry, I have a headache today." I don't feel bad about lying. Besides, it isn't a complete lie. There is an ache behind my eyes from lack of sleep. They feel gritty and my lids are heavy. I could use a nap. Maybe I should have stayed home today… But I knew she'd tell Bradyn and he'd show up at my house. Then I'd have to explain Lumen, and that wouldn't have ended well.

Mrs. Whitemore nods, watching me carefully as I move around my desk and hurry to the front. When I push into the waiting room, I find Lumen sitting in one of the chairs, the girl across from him staring like he's a piece of meat. It grates on my nerves.

It shouldn't, but it does.

"There you are," he says, smiling as he sets eyes on me. The look in his eyes makes me feel seen. Not like he's just looking at me, but he's seeing me. I give him a quick smile, then duck my head as he gets to his feet and meets me halfway. Hooking my arm with his, we move toward the door. I glance over my shoulder to see the girl scowling at me as we go. The petty, immature part of me wants to stick my tongue out at her and scream ha-ha! but it would mean nothing. Lumen and I aren't together. Though, I liked that smile he gave when he saw me. Like that he didn't stop me when I took his arm and is walking so close I feel his warmth even though it's the middle of summer. "I'm sorry to show up, but I was worried."

"My fault," I say as we step outside.

"I sensed everything was okay, but you said you'd be home by 3:15."

"I know, I'm sorry. Wait—" I take a step back and look up at him. "How did you know where I was?"

He smirks that devilishly handsome smirk, then shoves his hands into his pockets as his eyes flicker with mischief. "I have my ways."

"Meaning?" I push, raising a brow.

"Meaning, maybe that mark on your wrist does more than let me feel your emotions." He says it so casually.

I roll my eyes, then look around the mostly empty parking lot. Maybe that would bother some people, but it doesn't bother me, considering there are otherworldly beings hunting me. "You walked here?"

"Something like that."

"This magic stuff is weird."

I move toward my car and get in. He gets into the passenger seat and then I start the drive home.

"Is everything okay? Why were you late?" he asks.

"My head is all over the place today, that's all. And I'm tired."

He nods, his gaze getting caught on the buildings we drive past like he's wondering what they all are. When we get home, I let us in, and the first thing I notice is how good it smells inside. I narrow my eyes at the oven that is still on.

"I was bored, so I cooked. And baked."

"Cooked?" I hang my keys up on the hook, so I don't lose them. So many times over the last month, I've misplaced items from not paying attention, so I've gotten into the habit of making sure I put everything where it goes.

He smiles proudly. "And baked."

"What exactly did you cook and bake?"

I have little food in the house. I only buy what I need for the week, and it's coming up on grocery shopping day.

"I went to the store."

I narrow my eyes at him, crossing my arms. "You bought groceries? With what money?"

He smirks, then moves to the oven and opens it to show a roasting pan. The top is on it so I can't see what's inside, but the savory smell has my mouth watering.

"When I'm sent on missions, I'm given whatever I need to sustain myself. Including a credit card."

How easy is it to survive in this world when you're not from it…

"Do you need to eat to live? How does that work?" I ask, putting my hands on my hips.

"I don't need to eat, but I enjoy it. Other realms don't have food like this one does. I enjoy working here for that reason."

I look around the kitchen, noting he even cleaned up after himself. There is a round container on the counter, tucked away in the corner by the toaster.

"Chocolate lava cake with fudge frosting," he says, and I practically moan out loud.

"My stars," I mutter, shaking my head. Then I head down the hallway.

"Do you not like chocolate?" he calls after me.

I turn into my room, then dig through my drawers to find something more comfortable to put on. My stomach is doing all kinds of crazy things. Like populating an entire swarm of butterflies, apparently.

"I can make something else." His voice is soft as he stands in the doorway, watching me with a frown that tells me he's disappointed. Only I don't think he's disappointed because he thinks I don't like chocolate. I think it's because he feels he didn't impress me.

"I love chocolate," I say, keeping my words simple.

I catch his smile from the corner of my eye as I pull out a pair of sweatpants. "So…"

"Nothing," I say, but he gives me a knowing look like he knows my thoughts.

Does he know my thoughts?

I glance at my wrist, then at him. I hold it up toward him, scowling. "What else does this thing do?"

I can accept him feeling my emotions. Accept him knowing where I am. But if he can read my thoughts!

He holds his hands up in surrender. "Just emotions and location, I swear."

I narrow my eyes, watching to see if anything in his expression changes that tells me otherwise. Nothing does. Just that same beaming look. He's too happy and proud for his own good.

I walk over to him, stopping only a few inches away. He leans forward, both hands on either side of the door frame. He's so close I can smell that smoky scent of his again. I smile up at him, and he grins down at me with that handsome smile. There go those butterflies again. His eyes flicker like he knows exactly what I'm thinking, and for a second, I wonder if I want him to. But that quickly passes, and I close the door in his face.