Revenge of the Wronged Page 5

  “Seriously?”

  “Mm-hmm. But since Ryan was pretty damned fine and rumored to be a great lay, I later said that you were a fool not to at least hit that first.”

  Sometimes Bethany made my head spin. “I’m still lost, Bethy. Are you saying you did or did not like Ryan?”

  “It doesn’t matter!” She socked me in the shoulder. “That’s the fucking point. What other people think should have no bearing on how you feel about someone.” She shook her head, her mane of long, glossy blond tresses tossing from side to side as she tapped manicured fingers to her chest. “The real answers are only found in here, crazy girl. You won’t find them looking outside yourself.”

  I chewed my lip, considering her words. “You really aren’t going to tell me whether or not you like Alex then?”

  “Nope.”

  “Because you don’t think your opinion of him should matter or influence me?”

  “Yep.”

  “But you do like him. Right? I mean … I can tell that you do—”

  Her chair scraped noisily across the tile floor, and she threw a crumpled napkin at me as she pushed away from the table. “Take a shower, you stinky hooker. I have workers to supervise.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  I felt significantly more grounded emotionally and physically after showering and detangling my hair. However, my newfound sense of calm was rocked somewhat when I passed by the front window and spied matching black Tesla Roadsters parked in my driveway, which Alex then casually informed me were ours.

  When I looked at him like he was bat-shit crazy, he fell into a long-winded apology about ordering on short notice and a limited selection of colors being available to choose from—as if that were the issue at hand and not the obscene cost of the vehicles!

  It turned out the cars had been delivered before I’d even awakened that morning, and that they were what had drawn Bethany’s attention and caused her to stop in and check on the situation at my house.

  Alex ultimately won me over by pleading a solid case for the sheer practicality of an all-electric vehicle, claiming it was a vastly less complicated process using simple magic to charge up a battery rather than conjure gasoline. He promised that if I didn’t like it better than my current car—a crappy old Corolla—he would take it back. He proposed we head out for a drive so that I could try out my new car and so he and I could grocery shop.

  “Grocery shop? You? You … grocery shop?”

  “Of course.” He shrugged. “Don’t you? I had some necessities delivered first thing this morning so I could make you breakfast, but I thought we’d do a proper grocery shop together today.”

  “You actually grocery shop?” I repeated, failing to keep the marked disbelief out of my voice. I had a difficult time even picturing Alex in a grocery store. I’d assumed he had people on staff just to run errands like that for him back at his lair in Brazil.

  “Sure. I love it!” he professed a little too enthusiastically.

  My eyes narrowed. “Bethany told you I worked at the Whole Foods in town, didn’t she?”

  He scratched the back of his head. “Mm … she may have mentioned it in passing.”

  “So you want to check out where I work then?”

  “That a problem?” He tipped his head, giving me his best innocent, wounded choirboy face. “Are you too ashamed of me to take me to your place of business and introduce me to your associates?”

  I snorted with laughter at his false modesty and reference to Whole Foods as my “place of business” and my coworkers as my “associates.”

  “Noo … I’m not too ashamed to parade you around the Santa Cruz Whole Foods store, Alex. But I might have to claw a few eyes out when my female coworkers—I mean, associates—ogle you.”

  “Ooh, yeah, baby girl,” he crooned, wrapping himself around me and growling against my neck. “Now that’s what I’m talking about. Scratch some eyes out. Throw down and get possessive over me. ’Bout damn time.”

  * * *

  Bethany remained at the house, insisting she needed to stay to supervise Alex’s “workers,” while he and I took a drive along the coast. I was forced to acknowledge the Tesla Roadster handled better than my 1998 Toyota Corolla. It was, hands down, the sleekest, coolest car I’d ever been inside of, and I found myself grinning and giggling the entire ride as Alex patiently pointed out each of the car’s features to me, leaning in closer than was often necessary and letting his hand rest and caress up and down my thigh in between demonstrations.

  Though I had been nervous about our little grocery store excursion, once we’d gotten past my coworkers’ initial reactions of shock, and every female patron aged fourteen to ninety-four blatantly gawking at Alex, the experience proved to be far more fun than I’d ever anticipated.

  Alex clearly had never been grocery shopping before. Ever. I found his reactions to the various products he was unfamiliar with and his overall aversion to the way the store was set up and organized to be thoroughly amusing. He grimaced in distaste at all of the many shoppers blocking his path at every turn, grousing that it was all rather uncivilized and that we should be able to rent the store out by the hour in order to do our shopping in private at the very least.

  As we were strolling down the bulk bin aisle, our cart stuffed to the gills with mostly random items Alex had simply found “interesting” and therefore slung into the cart, he commented on the fact that he still couldn’t believe his sister had gone against a direct order and allowed me to come see him in the wine cellar the night before. He suggested we buy her a thank-you gift for her uncharacteristic display of defiance in this case, and laughingly inquired whether I thought there was anything at Whole Foods that might possibly suit Lessa’s discriminating tastes.

  I experienced an acute attack of conscience then and decided it was time to come clean to Alex about how I’d come to visit him in the wine cellar.

  “Um … so … about your sister … well, the thing is, she didn’t exactly willingly allow me to go down to the wine cellar last night.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, so … um … you see … at first I thought she was just going to let me go see you, you know? Because after attempting to convince me of what a terrible idea it would be for me to try and talk to you in your wound-up state and failing to persuade me, she started droning on and on with all of this other cautionary advice. But then when I said I didn’t care and that I was going to see you anyway, well … she kinda sorta laughed in my face and said I’d have to get through her first.”

  Alex chuckled. “Sounds like Lessa. How did you ultimately convince her?”

  “Ah … well, I was a mite peeved at that point, irritated with her for wasting my time and leading me on, so … I kinda … maybe … snapped … for a moment there in the kitchen.”

  Alex stopped the cart, his brows pinching together as he turned to me. “Snapped?”

  “I hit her and knocked her out cold.”

  With a wild shout of laughter, he resumed pushing the cart down the aisle. “Well, that’s proof positive how much Lessa likes you, because I’ve never in my life seen my sister throw a fight.”

  “You think … you think she faked it?”

  “Clearly. One hundred percent faked it.”

  “No? Really? Hmm … I don’t know. No … no it looked pretty real, actually—”

  “Baby, it’s not that I don’t trust your memory’s perception of last night’s events in the kitchen, but believe me when I say, there’s absolutely no way you knocked Lessa out in a fight. She faked it.”

  “But I—I did.”

  “Angel”—he half-covered his twitching lips behind his hand—“trust me, you didn’t.”

  “No, I’m serious. I think I did. She was passed out cold when I left her.”

  “Well, I’m sure it appeared that way.”

  “It was that way.”

  “Look, I’m not even certain I could best Lessa in a fight if it ever came to it.” He halted next to
a seaweed crisps end-aisle display. “Which it never has, since she’s never gone against one single order I’ve ever given her before last night.”

  “But I hit her pretty hard. With a frying pan,” I added sheepishly.

  He only shook his head and laughed harder.

  “Milena, Lessa’s one of our best fighters. Plus, she fights dirty.” He gave me a pointed look. “She’s positively vicious when she wants to be.”

  I felt my lips settle into a frown. I was starting to doubt my own memory of events now. Perhaps she really had been tricking me, as Alex suggested?

  “She got into a disagreement with Al once,” Alex proceeded to retell, profound amusement transforming his features as we made our way down the next aisle, “where she wound up tearing his beating heart clear out of his chest.” He erupted into raucous laughter at my horrified expression. “And the best part was Al had been giving her a hug at the time, as she’d led him to believe they were burying the hatchet and agreeing to disagree.”

  My jaw unhinged.

  “Yep, so Lessa just snatched his heart right out while he was embracing her.”

  He’d spoken loudly enough that an elderly woman in the cereal aisle next to us stiffened before turning to scowl at the two of us in shock. Without missing a beat, Alex turned to the lady, looked her straight in the eyes, and ordered, “You will ignore us.” She did, turning back to the boxes of cereal as if she’d never seen or heard us.

  “Then Lessa refused to give it back until he’d conceded that she was right and apologized to her.”

  “Jesus!”

  “In writing,” he emphasized. “Sandwich?”

  I glanced up and realized Alex was steering us in the direction of the sandwich counter. As luck would have it, crazy Tony was working the counter with freaky religious Carlos—aka my ill-fated junior prom date.

  “Yo, Laney-Baney, what up?” Tony greeted me from behind the sandwich bar, tossing a curious glance above my head and inquiring in a slightly, but not much, lower volume, “Who’s the old dude you rollin’ with?”

  “Her fiancé,” Alex answered on my behalf, ensuring that everyone within a twenty-foot radius heard him stake his claim. We were engaged now? Carlos looked instantaneously, utterly shattered.

  “Aw, shit, girl,” Tony lamented. “You done got yourself knocked up, huh? Sorry to hear it.”

  “Spread that rumor and I’ll put you in a body bag faster than you can assemble a sandwich,” Alex told him.

  “Yo, got it!” Tony appeased. “We’re chill, man. Totally chill.”

  I elbowed Alex hard in the ribs and shot him a death glare before introducing him to Tony and Carlos. We ordered several sandwiches to go, and I endured Carlos’s increasingly weepy glances and pained expressions the whole time Tony prepared our food.

  Just as Tony was wrapping and labeling our sandwiches and I was quietly congratulating myself on surviving my first grocery expedition with Alex, the unthinkable happened: Alcaeus and Remy showed up!

  I watched as female patrons tripped and collided with one another, ogling Alcaeus and Remy as they casually made their way through the store—just two stunningly beautiful demigods seeking out their equally gorgeous supernatural kin over by the sandwich bar.

  As they approached, I noticed there was something off about them. They seemed fairly upset. Angry. Alcaeus appeared rather … furious?

  “Ah, just the brother I’d planned to kill today,” Alex greeted, his volume loud enough that the guys behind the counter jerked their heads up to check out the scene unfolding. “What took you so long? I expected you to come charging to Milena’s rescue hours ago.”

  Oh, please, no. This couldn’t be happening to me.

  “Got held up doing your job again, baby bro,” was Alcaeus’s stony reply.

  Alex barked out a laugh. “You mean like the overtime you put in last night tonguing and groping my woman in the shower?”

  Oh. My.

  God!

  “Ho, shit!” Tony exclaimed, then quickly slapped his hand over his mouth when Alex shot him a look that held the promise of ultimate pain and suffering.

  Carlos’s eyes were fixed on me, round with shock, disgust, and other complicated emotions I preferred not to identify just now. I covered my boiling face behind my hands, praying that I might develop the ability to teleport if I wished it hard enough.

  “I only groped her ass a little,” Alcaeus defended. “Kai’s the one who drew blood and had her creaming herself grinding her snatch on his boner.”

  “Al!” Remy chastised.

  My face caught fire. Alcaeus’s cruel, demeaning words went well beyond his usual brand of chauvinistic, crude humor. I was certain it’d have hurt less if he’d simply chosen to slap me in the face. What the hell had gotten into my supposed guardian?

  The weight of Remy’s eyes on me drew my horrified stare away from Alcaeus. Remy gave me a sad, penitent smile and a little head shake that seemed to plead, “Let it go for now.” Strangely, it made me feel slightly better somehow.

  Meanwhile, an entire glass deli case spontaneously shattered about fifteen feet to Alex’s left, followed immediately by another one, distracting the growing crowd of onlookers as shrieks and shouts broke out across the store. Tony and Carlos raced off to help clean up the mess.

  Alcaeus smirked at his baby brother. “Good one.”

  “You’re dead.” Alex’s voice was strained. Rough and hollow. His animal scratching the surface.

  “Maybe later,” Alcaeus dismissed. “We got bigger problems right now, Alpha.”

  “You have a problem,” Alex corrected.

  “Al, stop antagonizing him,” Remy interjected, angling himself between his brothers. “Look, he’s serious, Alex. We need to talk. Things are … bad. Potentially horrendous.”

  “Where’s Lessa?” Alex suddenly asked, as if he’d only just noted her absence.

  “Excellent question,” Alcaeus said.

  “Brazil,” Remy answered.

  Alex frowned. “How the hell did you two get here? I can’t believe she’d risk teleporting you both this far without personally guiding the process. Surely she knew I wouldn’t stay mad at her for disobeying my orders about Milena last night?”

  “She didn’t teleport us,” Remy cut to the chase. “Kai did.”

  “What?” Alex all but bellowed, causing a passing stock boy I didn’t recognize to jump and nearly stumble into a table of cheese samples, distracted as he was by all of the other commotion and clean-up activity now happening in the store.

  I gave him an apologetic shrug. He was probably one of the newer summer hires. God, we were still drawing so much attention. They were going to get me fired and kicked out of my own Whole Foods at this rate.

  “Kai. Teleported. Us.” Alcaeus spelled out, his words clipped, his tone beyond surly.

  “You’re kidding? Fuck,” Alex exhaled. “Wait … where’s Kai?”

  Shocker of all shockers, I could’ve sworn I heard genuine concern bleed into Alex’s voice. Concern for Kai?

  “He made it.” Alcaeus raised a reassuring palm. “He’s fine.”

  “Relatively fine,” Remy clarified. “He’s puking his guts up in the men’s room at present.”

  “Puking?” I erupted. “Kai’s sick?”

  Alex’s eyes narrowed as they flitted between Alcaeus and Remy, clearly catching onto something I’d missed. “What’s wrong with Lessa? What happened? Why the fuck didn’t you get in touch with me sooner?”

  Alcaeus rolled irritated eyes but lifted another reassuring hand. “She’s fine.”

  “Relatively,” Remy once again amended.

  “How relatively?” Alex snarled.

  “We shouldn’t talk about it here in public,” Alcaeus said, glancing over his shoulder to scan the crowded store.

  “She’s lost her powers,” Remy supplied.

  “Remy, not here,” Alcaeus scolded.

  “More accurately,” Remy continued, “Lessa’s powers are utterly jacke
d at the moment.”

  A strange awareness settled in the pit of my gut. I had an awful feeling about it.

  “Remy!”

  “Get over yourself, Al,” Remy rebuffed. “We’re in a fucking Whole Foods in a community populated by surfers and hippies. I spied a potential Wiccan in aisle six, but that’s the extent of the supernatural eavesdroppers we’re in danger of revealing Lessa’s condition to here.”

  “What the hell happened? Where? Who? How?” Alex demanded in rapid-fire succession.

  “We’re not sure,” was Remy’s unhelpful response.

  Alcaeus’s chilly gaze leveled squarely on me. “We were hoping Milena might be able to tell us.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Oh, my God! I really had injured Alessandra with that frying pan?

  “Don’t look at Milena like that,” Alex growled.

  “Like what?” Alcaeus challenged.

  “Like she’s guilty of something.”

  “She smells guilty, Alex. Don’t pretend you don’t scent it.”

  “Ugh, shut it, Al,” Remy cut in. “Milena’s Catholic upbringing predisposes her to feel like everything’s her fault all the time regardless of what the reality of any given situation is. Damnit, we all know this about her. She carries that subtle aroma of self-condemnation near constantly.”

  My brows shot up at Remy’s assertion. My God, they could all actually scent my ever-present Catholic girl guilt?

  “Exactly,” Alex agreed. “And she feels doubly guilty right now, because she hit Lessa with a frying pan the last time she saw her. But we all know a frying pan didn’t harm or alter Lessa’s powers.”

  “She’s been blocking me out since last night,” Alcaeus accused with a nod in my direction.

  “Idiot!” Alex scoffed. “I’ve been blocking you out since last night. Now stop fucking looking at her like that.”

  “Thank God,” Remy rejoiced. “Finally, a piece of good news. Alex, unblock him, for pity’s sake. He’s a fucking disaster like this.”