Burning Emerald (26 page)

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Authors: Jaime Reed

BOOK: Burning Emerald
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Any minute now ...
23
T
here must have been a bug going around, because Caleb had come down with a bad case of Cambion fever.
It served him right for leaving me waiting by the phone, stealing hours from my life that I could never get back. If he'd suffered half the sleep deprivation that I had, it was a sound victory.
I never did get that courtesy call, but Caleb returned to his menial post at Buncha Books to do everything except work. Wherever I turned, there he was, pouting at me like someone had stolen his Big Wheel. He'd always had a peculiar side—it was just his eccentric nature—but he laid it on thick on Sunday. It began at customer service when I clocked in.
“Hey.” Caleb blocked my path, wearing a heavy winter coat and a pale mask of discontent. He shuffled his feet and his hand stayed busy inside his pockets.
“Oh, hey.” I sidestepped him and went to the computer, projecting my inner diva.
He bent close to my ear. “How've you been?”
The question blindsided me, but I played it cool. I couldn't let him see how he'd gotten to me. Of course, he could feel it, so no need for visual aid. “If you'd called like you said you would, you would know by now.”
He peered around the store a few times as if ashamed to be seen with me. His demeanor was sketchy, a nervous collection of tics just before some back-alley transaction.
“I'm sorry. I've been busy,” he said. “I don't mean to be difficult, but it's not a good idea for us to be around each other.”
“Okay.” I left him at the desk, no further explanation needed. If isolation would speed his recovery, who was I to delay progress?
The holiday sales made the bookstore busier than usual, which kept my mind from traveling to the music department. Between customers and restocking the baked goods, I had no time for drama. Even Alicia was too busy to trash talk. She didn't hide her excitement when she saw Caleb prowling around the aisles, but kept the giddy commentary to a minimum.
In case he hadn't been clear the last time, Caleb approached the counter to buy a brownie. “So, are you being careful? You know, in case he shows up again?”
“Yeah, Mom's got me on lockdown. She even has Ruiz playing bodyguard.”
Caleb didn't see that coming. Leaning over the counter, he whispered, “How can you trust him? He's investigating me and my family.”
“Yep, and he knows what we are, and I have no idea who he's working for. But he's offering protection, and I'm taking it for Mom's sake. At least he doesn't run from problems.”
Caleb stiffened for a second until the verbal sting ebbed away. “It's nothing personal. I just feel that it's better that I don't see you, that's all,” he replied, but it seemed more for his benefit. Maybe if he kept rehearsing those lines he might start to believe them. As it stood now, our mutual need was as strong as iron, welded together by heat and pressure.
“Sure.” I handed him his food and resumed my cleaning task. The exchange was over, but he lingered for a good five minutes, watching me with shameless longing. The heating unit and the blazing oven made my shirt sticky with sweat, yet he still wore his coat, another sign that he wasn't operating on all cylinders. The torment in his eyes rendered me speechless, but I refused to offer help unless he asked.
He must have felt the third time was a charm, because he followed me to the magazine aisle during my break. “I don't think you understand how dangerous it is for us to be together.”
“Dude, what is your problem? I'm not deaf. I heard you the last three times you told me. How about you follow your own advice? Stop chasing me around, quit spying on me from across the store, and take your emo ass home! You're not even scheduled to work today. Why. Are. You. Here?”
“I needed to see you,” he answered simply.
I crushed the magazine in my hand before resting its crumpled remains on the shelf. My molars ground together, my palms tingled, aching to karate-chop him in the throat. Caleb was not going to infect me with his strain of crazy. I would take the high road and walk away with my dignity intact.
At least, that was the plan.
He caught my arm before I could leave the aisle, his face a testament of unspoken agony.
I lifted my head to the ceiling and groaned. “What's wrong with you? Have you fed today?”
“Around the clock.”
I looked to him in surprise. Sizing him up, I asked, “Then why do you look like death warmed over?”
His gaze searched my body from head to toe, its intensity seeping into my pores. “It's not the energy I crave. It's the person it comes from.”
“I wish I could feel sorry for you, but you've decided to martyr yourself for no reason. You know where I live, you have my number, and yet you continue to deny what you need.”
“It won't stop at feeding, you know that. Capone's territory has been challenged and he wants to claim you. I can't trust myself to be near you.”
Should I have been flattered that I'd been reduced to a piece of real estate? I understood the possessive nature of the beings inside us, but I planned to keep that lonely grain of self-respect I had left.
“Then this conversation is pointless,” I said. “So, I'm going to enjoy what's left of my break.” Holding my head high, I brushed past him.
“Sam.”
“What!” I spun around with both fists clenched at my sides.
“I—I should leave. I've tried for hours, but my feet won't let me. Hell waits for me outside and everywhere you're not. I can't leave you. I don't think I ever can.”
He'd done that on purpose! Knowing my weakness, he always uttered something random and sweet to expel the sound cussing that was his due. Why was he doing this to me, on my break, no less?
His eyes pleaded for understanding, but they also glowed with hunger, a freak exhibit unfit for the public. I glanced to the book floor for witnesses.
“Come with me.” I marched to the small recess by the front of the store that led to the stockroom. I punched my employee code into the keypad, not checking if Caleb followed me. I knew he did, so I opened the door and stepped inside. Surrounded by boxes and columns of yet-to-be-stocked books, Caleb stood by the wall, trembling from chemical withdrawal. His hands fidgeted at his sides; his blunt nails dug into his pants.
“You have to feed from me—Capone demands it. Let me guess, you've been sniffing behind me all day, taking the traces of energy left in the air.” When he didn't deny it, I continued, “Is this what we've been reduced to, sneaking around like criminals? Why settle for crumbs on the floor when you can eat at the table?”
He drew deeper into the room, meandering through the maze of inventory. “I don't want to need you like this. Wanting you is bad enough. This feeling is running our lives and I can't have anything rule over me like that. I thought we'd have more time, but now, I don't know.” He stopped and pressed his forehead against a bookshelf; his hands gripped the metal framework.
“No one's stopping you from living your life. I've got plans of my own, but that doesn't mean we can't be together.” I crept behind him, noting how his body tightened in strain.
Sensing my approach, he looked at me over his shoulder. “Do you love him?”
I didn't need to ask who he meant, and bringing him up in conversation killed and buried the mood. “No. He's a monster, and if he had his way he would try to make me just like him.”
“How so?”
“He will live as long as I do. He's gonna want to extend his shelf life. The only way to do that is to make me a demon as well,” I explained. “Maybe that's why Nadine wanted to get away from him. She knew what he wanted her to do.”
“That doesn't stop Lilith from wanting him,” he disputed. “She's indecisive, but it's a woman's prerogative to change her mind. Isn't that what they say?”
Oh, that did it. I got right in his face. “Caleb, I don't care what she wants. She might get a kick out of suitors fighting over her, but I'm sick of it. No one wants me, not even Tobias if you think about it. It's all about Lilith. You are the only one who wants me, short, chubby, loud-mouthed, bossy me. As crazy as you are, you keep me sane. I love you and no one else.”
His hand slid from the support bar on the shelf, revealing the hand-sized dent in the metal. There was no way Caleb could've done that without “inside” help, and I realized this private party was getting crowded. I looked to Caleb for an explanation, but paused at the blast of violet light. His injuries ran deeper than I'd thought, and Capone was trying to make a break for it. Mr. Baker was one wounded creature, a malady he hid well from the outside world, but not from me.
I reached out and tucked his hair behind his ear. “Stop fighting. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere.”
He closed his eyes and leaned into my touch. “Don't you see this is what he wants? It's a trap. No one is going to manipulate me; nobody will run my life but me. I won't let Tobias win.”
I pulled back my hand. “Is this some sort of male ego thing? You gotta see which one of you can beat the other? Or are you so caught up with Lilith that you can't see me anymore?”
Silence met my question. I could feel the war waging within him, but his face lay dead to emotion, his eyes cold.
Lost for words, I grabbed the ends of his collar and pulled him to me. My arms roped around his waist under his coat. His heart drummed against my ear, his chest expanded under my cheek. My eyes closed, shutting out the world, centering myself on his touch and the hot, shaky release of his breath.
Caleb didn't fight as I'd thought he would and instead stood limp in my embrace. “Do you feel it?” he asked.
I nodded. The draw was strong, his hunger intensified to the point of pain, and being this close to him made it a thousand times worse.
“If you can feel it, then you know what I'm dealing with. It's not because of Capone, not some base need for satisfaction, but you. What I wouldn't give to go back to how we were this summer, to have just a few moments alone with you. But even now in this empty room, we have no privacy. Our wires are being tapped and monitored by the enemy. I can't go on like this.” The tips of his fingers trickled down my arms, and I fumed from the unfairness of it all. The smallest of caresses, sentiments meant only for me, now required censorship. This was no way to live.
“Caleb,” I began, but stopped at the finger to my lips.
“Samara.” He rarely said my full name, but when he did, it always sounded like the only word he knew, the soft prayer of a dying man. His body pressed into mine, knotted with tension as he deliberately avoided my mouth, but took his fill on the rest of me. It was infuriating, but the gesture was kind and therapeutic, a soothing balm for my injured pride.
“Don't abuse your influence and be careful how you tempt me,” he warned against the hollow of my throat. “I'm weak, beat up, and in no shape to deal with what you're offering. You're stronger than I am right now, so go before I do something we'll both regret.” He pulled away and turned his back to me.
For both our sakes, I granted his wish and went back to work. This tug-of-war was cramping our style, but we had to play by the rules until we found another strategy. At this rate, Tobias wouldn't have to lift a finger; the separation would kill us first.
 
Though it was Sunday, Buncha Books was staying open until ten for the holiday rush. However, Samara Marshall was clocking out at six on the dot and not a second later.
After standing outside for ten minutes, I realized that my daring escape had been for nothing, and waiting for Mom to pick me up was a lesson in humility. At least now I understood why Caleb had worn such a big coat, though he'd looked like he was about to steal something from the store.
Christmas music chimed through the speakers outside. Window shoppers strolled past me, herding around the surrounding shops while I shivered under the awning in a flimsy jean jacket, looking homeless. Maybe Mom was stuck in traffic. I was ready to call her when a heavy cloth draped my shoulders.
Caleb drifted beside me. “You look cold.”
I adjusted the ends of his coat so I could slide my arms through the sleeves. The warm interior thawed my skin and I hummed at the familiar smell of vanilla and sugar. “I thought you left.”
“I had to make sure you got home safe. Is your mom picking you up?” he asked.
“Supposed to, but she's running late,” I answered through chattering teeth. “God, I miss having my own car. It's weird. I have keys, I got my bag; I step out of the building, and there's no car. My pattern's broken.”
“I could give you a ride. Finally got my Jeep back from the shop,” he offered.
I considered the option for a moment. The idea was hella tempting given the subzero climate, but sitting alone with him for any length of time was bound to end badly. “Nah. Mom would freak out if I'm not here when she shows up.”

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