Shadowed (Unbound, Book 2)

Chapter Eighteen

The next morning, I hit snooze three times before lifting my head from the pillow. The fog of sleep cleared. The memory of Calin's promised early arrival pushed me up and into the shower, but I was too tired to attempt to look good. Jean-clad with a black hoody, I pulled my hair into a messy bun, grabbed my glasses instead of fighting with contacts, and tried to hide the fatigue with concealer under my eyes. The glasses worked better.

Back in my bedroom, I grabbed a pair of sneakers and my bag but then paused at the door. I tapped the frame twice, peered into the suite's sitting room, and then turned back. Onyx looked up, lifting her head from her paws, and I saw my jeans from the day before laying beneath her on the floor.

"Come here, girl," I said and slapped my thigh.

She whined and put her head back down.

"Come here, Onyx."

Her paw lifted to cover her eyes and she dug her nose into the fabric. Another whine rose, growing in volume. When the first quieted, three more sounded, short but loud.

"Onyx. Now." I slapped my thigh louder, hard enough so that my palm stung in response. "Come. Here."

With slow, laborious movements, Onyx climbed up to stand on all fours. She looked at me and whined, and then lowered her head to grasp the jeans between her teeth before following my command. She dropped them at my feet and whined again. I reached out to rub her head, but she laid down, once again on top of the jeans.

"What are you doing?"

I pulled my hand back and studied her. If she wanted to use my pants for a chew toy that was just fine—there were a hundred pairs to replace them in my closet. But what couldn't be replaced—the items from the box in Devland's office—were in the pockets.

"Okay, Onyx. What's the deal? Can I have my pants back?" I hunched down to my knees, talking to her like I would a child. "Please?"

She looked back without a sound, her clear blue eyes intelligent and rimmed with black. If she could talk or I was psychic—a Dr. Doolittle in training—I'm sure I'd hear a four-letter word followed by off. I just didn't understand why.

The doorbell rang, extinguishing my chance to find out. As promised, Calin was here and it was early. But Onyx wasn't moving. I reached out and slid my hand into the only pocket visible, and pulled out the waterlogged phone.

Scrambling to my feet, I gathered my bag and rushed out of the room, calling over my shoulder, "We'll talk after school, Onyx. Keep those pants safe from Miss Rose and Devland."

There was nothing to worry about, though. If I couldn't get them, nobody would. I put the phone in the front pocket of my bag as I walked down the stairs, making sure it was out of sight by the time I reached the foyer in case Devland was still home to see me off. Stopping me wasn't within his abilities after what I had seen, though.

Calin stood just inside the front door, alone. With his hands in his front jeans pockets, a white long-sleeve shirt pulled up to showcase tanned forearms corded with muscle, and hair still damp and falling into his eyes from his morning shower, he looked like an Adonis. But, despite my resolve from the night before, I couldn't muster a smile.

"There you are!" Mrs. Renaldi called as she came out of the dining room. Cheerful and dressed in red, she clutched a folded paper towel in each hand.

Calin looked up as I stepped off the last stair. My attempt to return his smile fell flat, and we both looked at Mrs. Renaldi as though she could ease the silence before it became uncomfortable. She darted her eyes between us and shook her head, drawing a deep breath to hide her smile while looking at the floor.

She looked back up and held out her hands. "Breakfast?"

"I'm not really hungry."

"No, thank you."

Mrs. Renaldi shifter her weight, held her hands higher and narrowed her eyes. Her voice dropped to menacing. "You eat your toast or you don't leave."

"Thank you," Calin said as we both took our share.

She clapped, rubbing her palms together. A smile and a nod, and she turned away. Without another word, she retreated back to the kitchen and Calin and I were alone.

"Want seconds?" I asked, holding out my toast. "I'm really not hungry."

"No, thank you." He looked down at his hand. "I already ate. My mom is worse than Mrs. Renaldi." He caught my eye. "Where's Onyx?"

"Being checked for bipolar disorder."

"What?"

I hitched my bag higher. "Nothing. Onyx won't eat it for us." Taking a bite, the toast tasted like sawdust, making it hard to swallow. I stepped towards the door. "Ready for Celestial Java?"

He didn't move, though his eyes followed me closely. "Are you okay?"

"Fine. I just want coffee."

"Nora—"

"I'm fine," I repeated, this time with more emphasis.

"Hey." He grabbed my arm as I passed and I looked up. His concern captured my attention and I froze. "Are you okay?"

Swallowing hard, I nodded.

"You look tired."

"I am tired," I said.

The calm his touch usually provoked passed. Awareness surged, spreading from the spot our skin met outwards like a limb that had fallen asleep. If only problems were that easy. If I could just ignore everything else and lose myself in Calin's touch, the world would be perfect. My loss of memory would be insignificant instead of the key to a lock I couldn't pick.

"Ready?" I asked and cleared my throat.

"Are you?" He stepped back and dropped his hand. His gaze appraised me from head to toe, and a small smile curving his lips up.

"What?" I shifted my weight and pushed my glasses up. "I'm tired, but I'm clean. Does it bother you that I chose comfort over style?"

Please say no.

"It's cute."

Looking up again, I held my breath. Our gazes met. How could he affect me so much? Why had I let his ex-girlfriend get between whatever this was? She was a bitch, but this was like magic. Pure and simple, it was the kind of happy people lost millions in an attempt to gain, futile as it may seem—what we shared couldn't be duplicated.

"Uh..." I shook my head. "Let's go." I opened the door and stepped onto the porch. "I have something to ask you."

"What's that?"

"Not here."

He stepped outside and closed the door behind us. We started towards his car together, but he stopped to open the passenger door. I watched as he rounded it to get in and start the ignition, muting the stereo as the car purred to life. He looked at me as we pulled away from the Manor, not at all startled to see me already watching him.

"What?" he asked.

"Why am I being lied to?"

"What?" He checked the road and looked back, his brow furrowed. "I never lied to you."

"No?"

"Never."

"Okay then." I nodded and looked forward, watching with a vacant stare as the manicured lawn from the Manor rolled into a field and then homes. The blocks whizzed by, faster and faster. Finally, after five minutes of silence, I took a deep breath and asked, "If you haven't been lying to me, why didn't you tell me my name is Noreena Fallyn and not Dwyer?"

"I—"

I looked at him and held his gaze. "What does that mean?"