Exalted (20 page)

But
it was the person missing from the daydream who brought her back to reality.
Her heart clenched when Julia realized she didn’t even know if Meredith liked
burgers.

Snuggled
in Cayne's strong, gentle arms, Julia replayed the airport scene, seeing Edan
in his jeans and t-shirt, hearing herself ask if he could take only her. And
hearing her friends say no. What had Meredith said?
I don’t think so
.

She
kept herself from sobbing, but cold tears slid down her cheeks. She remembered
the night she'd walked over to Dirk and Dwight's, and she could see herself
lacing up her pink All-Stars—pink All-Stars she didn't have, would probably
never see again—and instead of crying over Suzanne and Harry, she was crying
for some freakin' shoes.

And,
okay, then she was crying for Suzanne and Harry. For Suzanne's closet, stuffed
with clothes and jewelry and bargain shoes in every color of the rainbow. For
Harry's cologne and his silky ties, especially the ones she'd bought him, when
she would go to the cashier on Father's Day and be able to nod when they said,
“Getting a tie for your dad?”

She'd
had a dad and a mom and a best friend.

She
thought about Carlin and cried some more because she loved Carlin, too. But
Meredith had been her first true girlfriend. The first person who'd ever called
her bestie. She cried for Meredith's glittery fingernails, and for the times
Meredith had been willing to hear her talk about what was wrong, but Julia
hadn't because she was caught up in being The One.

She'd
told herself she wouldn't sob, but okay—she was sobbing. Cayne, holding her so
tightly, whispered soft things into her ear. She couldn't hear them for the
wind, but he was there, he was warm, and she knew he loved her.

She'd
finally calmed down and was wondering why he hadn't stopped—not that she cared;
it just seemed out of character—when she glanced down, and below their feet she
saw a freakin' jet.

Not
a passenger jet, a military jet! And not just one! Dozens!

She looked up
at Cayne, and he looked at her, and she looked back at the wispy clouds over
silver-green metal, and she thought about what it meant. And she started
thinking, really thinking, of how on Earth they would manage to kill The
Adversary.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Someone
was biting her ear.

Julia
swatted the ear biter and tried to roll over so she could go back to sleep
already. Trouble was, someone had pinned her in place.

“Urrghh.”

Another
bite, and she was up and— “Mmmmm.”

The
arms around her tightened, and the bite turned into something softer. Something
warmer, continuing its journey down her neck until Julia's back arched, her
stomach rolled, and finally she got the wherewithal to reach up and grab
Cayne's short, dark hair.

He
chuckled, the kind of low, harsh sound that came from a villain—or the devil's
son. Julia abandoned that line of thought (too scary to be sexy), relaxing and
closing her eyes as his mouth worked its magic. She was sitting in his lap, and
as she twisted around to face him, she noticed they were in a small cave, and
it was cold. She wondered where they were, but then she saw his face, and she
knew she didn't care. He was grinning, and he looked more like her Cayne. She
rubbed her hand over his soft hair, and he leaned down to kiss her again, this
time on the lips.

“Mmm.”
She deepened the kiss, and Cayne spread his crossed legs, pulling her against
his chest and leaning against the rocky wall. His hands stroked her sides, her
back, before moving down toward her butt, out over her hips, and around to more
private territory.

Julia
pushed up his shirt and ran her hands along his hard, taut back. She could
literally feel every one of his ripped muscles. She moved to his sides, and he
growled, kissing her cheek, her nose, her eyes. She stroked his abs, and he
sucked in his breath. “You might not want to keep that up...”

He
groaned as Julia moved a little lower, and half a second later, she was lying
on her back on the cold cavern floor; Cayne was straddling her, one hand under
the back of her head, his other caressing her cheek, his mouth covering hers.

Julia
grabbed his hip, and he wrenched his mouth off hers. “Good God, woman.”

She
grinned wickedly, then reached between their bodies, fingertips crawling up his
pecs, until she found his—

“Aaagh.”

She
giggled as she thumbed his nipple.

He
deepened the kisses, made them harder, longer, so she couldn't breathe. His
chest pressed down on hers, and Julia closed her eyes, trying to lose herself
in the sensation. But memory had a terrible way of taking advantage of an empty
head.

“No.
Cayne.” Julia pulled away from their kiss, feeling shattered by her thoughts.
Cayne's green eyes widened.

“What's
wrong?” His voice was deliciously low, and he was propped up on his hands in
push-up position. For just a second, she contemplated kissing him again.
Meredith would approve, she thought, but thinking her friend's name made tears
sting her eyes.

She
ducked her head, wriggling out from under Cayne, almost gasping as her
blue-jeaned butt hit an area of the stone floor that hadn't been warmed by
their bodies. She folded her arms around herself and sat there, panting as she
shivered—because although her mind was in tangles, her body was still very much
focused on Cayne.

He
wrapped an arm around her, scooting closer. Still breathing hard, he asked,
“You okay?”

She
shook her head as tears spilled down her cheeks, and he pulled her into his
lap. He tucked her face between his neck and shoulder so gently, it amazed her
when she remembered Cayne from Memphis. He could hardly even stand for her to
touch him. But now was holding her tightly, pressing his cheek against her hair
and rubbing her back.

“You've
gotten good at this,” she whispered.

“What?”

She
squeezed her eyes shut as her throat constricted. “Hugs,” she said around a
sob.

“Not
good enough.” His voice was soft and low with pain. He loosened his grip on her
abruptly, leaning his head back and squeezing his eyes shut. “I'm sorry again,
for what happened. If I had known...”

Julia
shook her head. “Cayne, this is not your fault.”

“You
keep saying that.” His mouth twisted, and he groaned. “Do you know I thought I
outwitted him? What kind of idiot thinks he can trick the devil?”

A
sudden shudder ripped through his chest, and Julia leaned close to hug him. He
swallowed hard once more, and when he spoke his voice was almost a growl. “I
didn't know I was so stupid."

“You're
not,” she whispered.

But
he had pulled out: conversation over. He kissed her again, hard, and when he
eased her to the ground, Julia didn't protest; she surrendered. All her
movements, all her thoughts, seemed to come from a distant haze—someplace
softer, warmer, better; someplace not quite real. Their breaths were pale
clouds in the freezing air, and Julia's body jerked from cold, then began to
melt from heat.

“I
love you,” he rasped, rolling over, shifting her on top of him. Her hair hung
down her shoulders, framing his handsome face as it swung.

“I
love you more,” she murmured, clutching his shoulder. “Will we—” she gasped—
“be okay?”

“I'll...make
sure of it.” He brought her palm to his mouth, breathing warm puffs into it.
“No more mistakes.”

 
When they were finished, he reached over
behind him and pulled out a hunter green knapsack. Julia was jerking on her
clothes, shivering and clumsy and tired, when Cayne spread out a huge fur
blanket and she gasped.

“What
is that awesomeness and where'd it come from?!”

“Pack
of mine. I stashed it Albania a few years back—I used to stop there from time
to time when I was in this part of the world. I stopped to get it on our way.”
He shrugged. “You slept through it.”

He
sat on it and held out his arm, inviting her to snuggle under it. When she did,
he pasted her close to him, sealed both of them inside the fur, and leaned his
head against the bag; Julia leaned her cheek against his warm, hard bicep and
looked around the cave.

“Where
are we?” she murmured.

His
chest vibrated as he spoke. “St. Moritz.”

“Wow.
I slept that long?”

He
stroked her hair back off her face. “You needed the rest.”

“What
about you?” She answered her own question, glancing at his aura, and she was
pleased to find that there were hardly any knots.

“I
heal fast.”

She
snuggled closer, lying on her side and wrapping her arm around his waist. “I'm
glad we're together again.”

He
shut his eyes. “Me too."

A
long moment slid by, where it was just the two of them, and the frigid world
around them felt too heavy, and Julia felt an awful sting deep in her chest.
Then she took a deep breath, let it out. Promised herself she would find a way
to deal with all the crap. Preferably a way that involved The Adversary's head
on a stick.

“Did
you see any more jets?” she murmured.

“Some.”

“What
countries did we fly over?”

“Mostly
Greece, Albania, Italy. A lot of water.”

She
nodded, and he kissed her cheek, then shifted on his side to spoon her. He
folded his heavy arms around her, Julia could feel it... How he needed that.

She
peeked over her shoulder at him. “Cayne.” She stroked her fingers over his
rough knuckles. “Meredith would never hold anything against you—or me. She
wouldn't blame us, that we were all in that position. She made her own choice,
I think.”

“I
know.” She felt his chest expand as he inhaled. Felt it shrink as he exhaled in
her hair. “I just want to make it right.”

“We've
got to kill The Adversary.”

“If
we can actually get an audience with The Alpha, as someone promised—” Cayne
winked at the exaggeration Julia had told the Chosen. “If we can talk to him or
any of his Authorities, maybe we can find out more. First, though...”
   

He
peeled the fur off himself and tucked it around Julia. She watched his every
move, drinking in the sight of him, bare-chested in those sexy, tattered jeans.
Her heart skipped a beat when he walked over to the bag, pulling out a ratty
pair of black Vans. He grabbed something else, then turned slowly around.

Julia
shrieked when she saw the hot pink All-Stars.

“Oh
my gosh, how did you find them?!”

She
plopped back down on the fur, eager to get them on her freezing feet, and Cayne
laughed, a low, rich sound she adored.

“Car
gave them to me when she gave me the sweatshirt. I stuffed them in my pocket
when we were saying bye. Sorry I forgot them."

“It's
okay. I'm thrilled!” She got them on her feet and beamed, despite the lack of
socks. "Where did he get them?"

Cayne,
zipping up his sweatshirt, shrugged.

“Where'd
you get your Vans?”

“Got
someone to give them to me once, a few years back.” He arched a brow as he
pulled them on, then beckoned her to the mouth of the cave. Once there, Julia
followed his outstretched finger to a white-washed brick shop with a navy
awning, perched on the edge of a cliff overlooking the city.

“That's
our spot,” he said, and Julia remembered eating there right before they reached
the rock, before Cayne had been taken to hell.
 

“You
want to see if I've got anything left in my bag of tricks?” he asked her,
nodding at the building, maybe one-hundred yards away. “I remember they sold
some quiche as well as the ice cream.”

Julia
nodded, noting, based on the warm sunlight, that it seemed like late
afternoon.
 

He
left her snuggled in the fur blanket, assuring her that Switzerland had looked
entirely peaceful from the air. He returned with orange juice, hot chocolate,
and sausage quiche, and they ate side by side, sitting on the fur, overlooking
the snow-dusted Alps.

Julia
sipped her hot chocolate and raised her eyebrows. “I'm surprised to see you
eating, manorexic.”

Cayne
frowned. “Huh?”

“I'm
saying you hardly ever eat. Why now?”

He
made a pssh noise and shook his head. “I've got a thing for quiche.”

He
ate another huge bit of it, and Julia couldn't help but laugh. “Remember when
you fell through my roof?”

Cayne
nodded. “You hadn't bathed in days.”

She
smiled. “I didn't have a sugar daddy then.”

“Sugar
daddy?” He frowned again, and she giggled. “You really are pop-culture
illiterate.”

She
took his hand, threading her fingers through his as she watched a cloud drift
by, literally inches in front of them, blotting out much of the ground. She
thought about her pop-culture comment, how it had been a while since she'd
watched TV or seen a magazine cover. She was fast becoming just as cut off from
the regular world as Cayne and Drew.

Except
now their world threatened to overtake the regular one.

“Sometimes
I still feel like this has been a dream. Like right now, we're in some castle
in the clouds, because you flew us here. That's crazy.” Cayne looked at her
quizzically, like he had no idea what she meant, and she waved at the clouds in
front of them. “I can't believe everything that's happened.” She had meant her
comment to be, if not positive, dreamy. She had a superhot boyfriend who could
fly—what girl wouldn't want that? Unfortunately that's not where the story
ended, and her thoughts went places she didn't want them to.

“What
was it like...in Hell?” She hadn't planned to ask; it was just the first thing
that popped out.

He
waited a minute before he answered, “Like being angry. As angry as you've ever
been. And having your hands tied.” When she nodded, he continued in a gravelly
voice. “Everything is...better now. As long as I'm not there, I can try to
forget I ever was.”