Crimson Sunrise (21 page)

“I’m just asking a question.” He shrugged his massive shoulders. “Don’t get all pissy because you don’t have the answers.”

My newfound temper got the best of me, and I decided to shut him up once and for all.

“Give me your hand.” I reached out to him, palm up, fingers extended.

“What?” He kept his arms crossed and looked at me as if I’d lost my mind.

“Don’t get all pissy because you don’t understand English. Give me your hand.”

He narrowed his eyes, uncrossed his arms, and held out his hand. I didn’t have to place my hand around his, touching the tips of his fingers sufficed.

“Call your wolf.”

He yanked his hand back as if I’d burned him. “You’re not special, you’re fucking insane. Do you want to be lunch, sweetheart?”

Impatient now, I asked, “Do you want to see or not?”

Staring at me skeptically, he extended his hand and allowed me to brush the back of his knuckles with my fingers. The hum was already there, the flow of power that emitted when the wolf started to rise to the surface to take control. It felt different this time, as if the energy was reacting to something inside of me, and I pulled my hand away.

“That’s it?” His eyebrows creased as he frowned. He was clearly disappointed.

“Not only are you rude, you’re impatient too.”

I rolled my eyes, shook my head, and scanned the area for something I could manipulate. I didn’t see anything decent until I swiveled around. I focused on the black sunglasses perched on Aidan’s head, extending my fingers and willing the energy to bring them to me.

Then something odd happened.

They came off his head in a flash, scratching along the surface of his head, and flew into my hand painfully. I winced at the sharp sting, yanking my hand back in pain, and watched in alarm as the glasses dropped into my lap.

“Jesus!” Aidan snapped. He brought his hand up and combed it through his short hair, rubbing against the area the glasses had scraped.

“I’m sorry,” I apologized in a rush and thrust the glasses at him.

“So you can move things with your mind?” he asked, accepting the glasses with hands the size of my head.

“Something like that,” I answered and moved past his bulk to rush to the back door. My feet flew up the stairs as I hurried inside. I was desperate to speak to my father. Something strange was going on.

Caleb came out of the kitchen as I started past and I collided into his much larger body. He spun around, hands wrapping around my waist, and held me close.

“What’s the matter?”

I sagged against him, allowing him to keep me upright. The back door slammed and footsteps echoed from behind us. I felt Caleb’s anger rise as he shifted his body and spoke past my head.

“Do you mind explaining yourself?”

“I didn’t do anything.” Aidan wasn’t apologetic in the least. I couldn’t see him, but I imagined he was striking an imposing pose—arms crossed, shoulders straight, chest out.

“Don’t make me regret my decision.” Caleb’s voice had shifted; the tone now deep and menacing.

“He didn’t do anything,” I murmured against his chest.

Aidan’s footsteps pounded on the floor behind me. Somehow, he managed to maneuver his huge frame in the hallway to pass us. He walked down the hall to the other end of the house without another word.

“Sarah isn’t the only one who has been acting off lately, so have you.” Caleb pushed me away to peer into my face. “What’s going on, Emma?”

“I need to talk to my dad.”

“I thought we were going to be open with each other.”

I brought my right hand from his back to his face and touched the dark shadow that had appeared. Lines of tension were visible around the edge of his mouth, and I attempted to smooth them away with my fingers.

“We are,” I said softly. “As soon as I get some answers, I’ll share them with you.”

“Caleb?” Sam called from the dining room.

“Go ahead.” I took a step back. “Find me when you’re done.”

He paused in uncertainty before he kissed the top of my head and let me go. I followed him as far as the stairs. As I grasped the banister to go upstairs, he placed his hand over mine. I looked up and his deep blue eyes moved across my face, as if he could detect what was bothering me.

“You’ll tell me if something is wrong. Don’t keep it to yourself.”

“I promise.”

He pulled his hand away slowly, allowing his fingers to drift across my skin, before turning around and walking to the dining room. I took a deep breath and started up the stairs. I reached the top and went toward the bedroom. When I reached the door, I knocked softly.

“Come in.” My mother’s voice flittered through the wall, elegant even when muffled by wood.

I hesitated for a moment, knowing I would be walking into the guest bedroom. Sadly, I realized this would have been something I would have turned to Trent for. The person I wanted to talk to most wouldn’t be there to comfort me this time.

I turned the handle and opened the door. My gloomy mood brightened considerably at the sight before me. My parents were sitting with backs braced on the mattress, books in hand, reading together like an old married couple. Both were dressed casually in jeans and sweaters.

“Hello, Emmaline.” Dad closed his book, looked up, and smiled.

I closed the door behind me, walked inside, and sank to the floor in front of them. “I need to talk to you.”

“What’s got you troubled?” My father’s casual pose vanished, replaced by absolute attentiveness.

“Some weird things have been happening the last few days. I was hoping you might know why.”

“What kinds of things?” Mom sat up, folding her legs to the side, and placed her book on the bed.

“Little things.” I shrugged. “My temper has been going through the roof. I’m having trouble concentrating. Just now, I lost control when I tried to move a pair of sunglasses with my ability.”

Dad gave an understanding smile. “I think the temper and concentration are the cause of several things. You are under an extreme amount of stress right now, and if I recall correctly, you always did have a bit of a temper. You’ve always been impressive in your talents with your ability, just as I was. I’m not surprised you would experience problems with control. I did as well in the beginning.”

“This is—” I grappled for the right words, trying to find a way to explain that something felt off in ways I couldn’t describe—“different.”

“I don’t have experience with Caleb’s kind, Emmaline. I have noticed they exhibit more natural energy than we do. Maybe that’s the cause. If you’re absorbing power into yourself without knowing, you’re keeping it pent up inside. That would explain the lack of control.”

“Maybe,” I acknowledged, lowering my head and staring at the carpet.

“Everything is going to be fine, lass. It’s no wonder you’re on edge, with all you’ve dealt with in the last few months.” He grinned. “You know my future son-in-law won’t let anything happen to you.”

“I can’t believe he asked your permission before we left Scotland.” I couldn’t stop the flush that crept into my cheeks.

“It’s a right good thing he did,” Dad huffed. “That is what a man is supposed to do.”

I laughed. “You would say that.”

“It will be beautiful, Emma. Spectacular.”

I turned toward my mother’s voice, realizing she had always wanted a big wedding and didn’t get one. She and my father had eloped—had to, actually. His engagement to Monica Acarons was still binding at the time. An odd gleam was in her eye, and I had a good idea why.

“I don’t need a big wedding, Mom. Small, simple, and understated—that’s me. No big church or any of that stuff.”

“Nonsense, we have plenty of time to decide on all the details.”

“Thank God for that,” I muttered.

A soft knock came from the door. I shoved my legs underneath my body, came to my feet, and went to see who it was. When I cracked the door open, Beverly was waiting in the hallway, apron in hand. Her hair had speckles of flour in select strands, but her face was free of the white powder.

“Emma, I’m afraid I need your help for lunch. I have to cook double the dumplings and chicken.”

She offered the apron and I took it despite my desire to cringe. I was a terrible cook, and my help in the kitchen was more of a detriment. She didn’t know what she was asking for. I looked over my shoulder and closed my eyes, making a sour face that only my parents could see. I heard their combined chuckles.

I sighed, resigned to my fate. “I’ll be back later.”

“Keep the fire extinguisher handy,” Dad warned, and when I opened my eyes, he was frowning at me. “You remember what happened last time.”

Wincing, I nodded. Almost burning the kitchen down in my parents’ home wasn’t my most impressive accomplishment. But in my defense, I didn’t see the dishtowel that fell onto the flaming eyelet. It had been an honest mistake, but an embarrassing one. I never attempted to make Jiffy-Pop again. Since that day, I left cooking to the professionals. Like Keith—the most amazing butler
ever
.

“And stay clear of the knives, sweetheart,” Mom added, giving me a smile that could be construed as playful or terrified depending on how you looked at it.

“Okay, I’m going in. Wish me luck.” I escaped the torment of their warnings and teasing, leaving the bedroom and closing the door.

I followed Beverly into the kitchen and took a seat at the center island. She scurried here and there, grabbing utensils and the ingredients for her much loved chicken and dumplings. It was Caleb’s favorite, and she’d apparently been cooking yard birds for days in preparation.

“I’ll have you cut the chicken while I do these,” she told me, bringing over a huge square container crammed with several chickens she had baked in the oven. It was a shame, really. We would work for hours to prepare this meal, and it would be gone in minutes. “I’ve already done the hard part, just cut the pieces into thick slices.”

As I accepted the large knife from her, I removed a chunk of chicken. I plopped the cold white meat onto the cutting board she’d placed in front of me and held it with my fingers. Bringing the knife down gradually, I tried to decide where to start.

“Emma,” she scolded and came over, stopping me before I could do anything. “Don’t leave your fingers like that. You’ll cut one off.”

Nodding, I studied the piece of chicken, devising another plan of attack. I modified my method, leaving the chicken alone while cutting one handed. It wasn’t very effective. The bird seemed to have been given a new life, moving across the white plastic surface in a dance of cut me if you can. I scowled at the meat, hating it with each thrust of the knife it avoided so nimbly.

“I hate you,” I mumbled, despising the blasted stuff. Caleb was screwed when we tied the knot. If he was expecting Betty Crocker, he was in for a shock.

Beverly watched me from across the island, her frown intensifying with every pass of the knife. I glanced up at her before giving it another go. I wasn’t sure what she expected. Maybe I should have warned her.

“Like this.”

Caleb’s arms came around my shoulders, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. He took the knife and placed the blade evenly on the surface, his fingers holding the hilt firm. He moved the chicken, leaving the knife in place, and sliced evenly portioned chunks before shoving them to the side of the cutting board with the knife.

“Show off,” I grumbled.

He chuckled and returned the knife to me. “It just takes practice.” Pressing his lips to the side of my neck, he brushed his hand through my hair and down my back. He breathed into the shell of my ear, causing my insides to melt.

“At least I know what to get you as a wedding gift,” Beverly said, watching me warily as I pulled a piece of the dreaded white meat from the container to take another shot.

“What’s that?” Caleb asked, leaning over my body again to guide my hands.

She lifted her spatula, pointed it in my direction, and informed him, “A six-week enrollment for her at the Blue Ribbon cooking school and a first aid kit.”

Chapter 18—A Welcome Interruption

As it happened, chicken and dumplings were served for both dinner and lunch. Beverly had made so much there was plenty left over, and that was saying something. My fingers were still sore from cutting the slices, but thanks to Caleb, they remained intact.

My parents didn’t want to seem rude so they joined us at the table while we ate, seated in front of empty place mats. It really was strange, but what would be normal in this kind of situation?

Another person who stuck around, to my utter dismay, was Aidan. The only satisfaction I gleamed from his presence was watching his face when he was introduced to Mom and Dad. He had been told my parents were different, but when Caleb made the introductions, and a clear crack surfaced in his rock hard exterior, it was priceless.

Sam managed to get everything in order before he left. It was official. Caleb was the alpha of the Mohegan pack of Tennessee. All that remained was some sort of special ceremony. Caleb would stand before his pack and give the other males the opportunity to challenge him for the position. I wasn’t too happy about that part, even with Sam's assurance it wouldn’t be an issue.

No one had much to say as we ate, so they either sat quietly or shoved food into their mouths. The brooding atmosphere in the house had become stifling. Everyone was tense, worried, and on edge.

We all needed something to take the edge off.

When everyone finished, I helped Caleb and Beverly clear the table and stayed long enough to make sure the dishes were clean before retreating to what had technically become our bedroom. My parents decided to stay downstairs to speak with Chris, and I didn’t want to hear anymore talk about fighting.

I threw myself across the bed, lying face down on the mattress, and allowed a sigh of relief to escape.

“I love it when you make that sound.” Caleb’s huskily spoken words caused a spasm of heat to radiate from my stomach down. I brought my head around to face him, rising onto my elbows. He stepped inside the bedroom, closed the door behind him, and flipped the lock.