Light Beyond the Darkness (7 page)

“No?”

Carley hunched her shoulders against the wind whipping off the lake. “They considered me a failure, because I refused to kowtow to their beliefs.”

“Which were?”

“That lightbearers should associate—and mate with—lightbearers, and no other beings.”

They fell silent for a short while after that statement. Eventually, they turned away from the lake and headed back toward the house where Carley lived. She finally worked up the nerve to ask the question that had been plaguing her almost since she met Reid.

“Why me? Why are you still here, almost a full month later?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean, I know why I’m still here. That’s because I’m a shifter, and we’re obsessive by nature. I can’t give up until I reach my goal. As to why I chose you, I have no idea.” He sounded as mystified as she felt.

“What is your goal?”

“To be with you.”

“Oh.” She did not know what else to say. Other than, “I’m not sure I can, Reid. I’ve never…that is…Sex—relationships—they’ve never been particularly…appealing.”

Reid gently grasped her elbow and pulled her to a stop. They stood in the middle of a bike path in a park, during the late afternoon. Despite the chilly weather, there were plenty of humans out and about, walking dogs and jogging, going to work or heading home or walking toward nearby Miracle Mile, to spend their hard-earned money.

She lifted her face to look at him, and he gently cupped her cheek. “I’d like to change that opinion,” he said.

She nuzzled his hand. It felt good. “What if I’m a lost cause?”

“You aren’t,” he said with absolute conviction.

She smiled at his tone. “Such confidence,” she teased.

“I’m going to kiss you.”

She stiffened. Her eyes widened, and she abruptly stopped nuzzling his hand.

“Now that you are expecting it, why don’t you try to relax?” he suggested, without making a move toward her.

She tried, she really did. But she couldn’t. The fear left over from the experience with Miguel, coupled with a strange sensation of anticipation had her so on edge, she felt like a rubber band stretched to capacity, and yet someone was trying to stretch some more. She was so distracted by the feeling that she did not even resist when Reid bent his head and brushed his lips across hers.

Her lips puckered automatically, but he was already gone, leaning away, watching her closely. She lifted two fingers and touched her lips, bemused.

“That’s it?” she managed to ask after a moment’s hesitation.

Reid smiled a lazy, confident smile. “Not remotely,” he promised. “That was just a taste. A very small taste.”

“It…it was nice.”

“It was. The problem is, I don’t particularly want nice.”

“Oh.” What did he mean by that?

“Which is why we are going to continue walking now, before that look on your face encourages me to overstep my bounds.” He snagged her hand and gave it a tug, and she stumbled into step with him, as they continued walking down the bike path.

A short time later, when they returned to her home, Reid dropped her on the doorstep and did not go inside, as had become common practice. He apparently couldn’t resist one more kiss, though, however simple, however much it made her ache for more. Then he abruptly straightened and gave her a little push toward the door. He stepped away, and turned and strode down the sidewalk toward his own home.

* * * *

“He wants a private cooking lesson?” Carley was dumbfounded. No one had ever asked for private cooking lessons before.

“Well, I suggested it, actually.” Sam, the restaurant manager, nodded enthusiastically.

“What do you mean?”

Sam shrugged. “The guy’s in here every single night. Literally. Last night, I asked him why he dined here all the time. He said yours was the best cooking he’d ever tasted in his life. So I suggested a private lesson. If this goes over, it could be a whole new form of income for the restaurant,” he said, eagerness etched into his features. “The price I gave him was outrageous, too, and he didn’t even bat an eyelash.”

Of course he didn’t. Sam had played into his hands, however inadvertent it might have been.

“Sam, I can’t—”

“Weirdly enough, he seemed to believe you would refuse. I told him not to worry, that I’d talk you into it.”

“Sam—”

“Come on, Carley. This is perfect. You whip up a steak, show him the basics, and you’re done. I’ll pay you for an entire shift’s work, when you’re only going to be there for a couple hours tops.”

“It’s not that simple, Sam. It’s—”

The man would not let her finish a sentence. Nor would he give up on his grand idea of hiring her out as a personal chef. Starting with Reid as their first client.

“Tonight.”

“Tonight?” she yelped. “I can’t plan something like this by
tonight
.”

Sam shook his head. “You don’t have to plan anything. I have the menu right here.” He waved a piece of paper, on which someone had written in sharp block letters:

STEAK

POTATO

VEGETABLE

KEY LIME PIE

The manager frowned. “He wasn’t particular about the vegetable. Said he didn’t even care if it was included, but that you would.”

Carley’s lips twitched. Already, he knew her well. But then she shook her head. “I can’t do this.”

“Why not? It’s what you do every day, except tonight, you’re doing it for one person, instead of hundreds.”

But that’s just it
.

Before she could argue further, the manager slapped the piece of paper onto the counter in front of her. “Write down the ingredients you need. I’ll have everything here, ready to go, at four o’clock. Come to the employees’ entrance. Pick up the bags and then hightail it out of here. Otherwise, you know you’ll get sucked in. None of those kids in that kitchen think they can function without you.” He sounded annoyed, yet Carley was flattered.

I need to be needed.

It was a surprising thought, one she hadn’t really considered until now. Yet, she realized it was true. It was the reason she’d felt so comfortable here, in this restaurant, and living in the cramped house with so many human roommates. Because they all needed her, for one reason or another. And that was what Carley thrived on.

And why Reid was so attractive.

Well, Reid was attractive all on his own, in a purely aesthetic way. His obsession for her—that was simply icing on the proverbial cake. Tasty, delectable, sweet-cream icing. And she was about to get a taste. Tonight.

If she wanted it. If she was brave enough. There was something strangely…tempting about the idea.

And yet, even as she reluctantly listed the ingredients and equipment she would need to create her signature steak dinner, she recognized her own fear. Fear of what would happen, if Reid kissed her and they were not standing in the middle of a park teeming with people. Miguel had kissed her once, the day they were mated, a quick peck on the cheek to prove to the king and her parents that he really was thrilled with the union. It had been a lie, of course. And it was the one and only time he’d ever done it.

Reid’s kiss hadn’t felt like a lie. It had felt honest, open, stark,
real
. It had felt like he wanted more, but was holding himself back because, while she hadn’t told him anything at all, he
knew
. He knew she had a poor experience. He knew she was skittish. He knew if he pushed too far, too soon, she would bolt.

That awareness was what propelled her to go through with the meeting, to pick up the supplies at the appointed time, to show up at the address he’d given to her manager.

“I’m honestly surprised you kept the appointment,” Reid said when he opened the door. He wore a pair of worn jeans and a simple navy-blue T-shirt. His feet were bare. His cheeks were smooth-shaven. She blinked bemusedly at the rare sight of him without facial hair.

He pulled the two heavy bags of food and cooking supplies out of Carley’s arms. “I would have met you at the restaurant and helped carry all of this, but I suspected you needed to do this on your own.”

Carley rolled her shoulders after he took the weight of the bags away, and then let her gaze peruse the interior of his apartment. It was different from the ancient home in which she lived with her fellow restaurant employees. Reid’s living space was sleek, all black and gray and white, with contemporary decor on the walls. The floor was Italian marble, the furniture was leather and glossy wood. She found herself anticipating her first glimpse of the kitchen. If the living area was this nice…

“You know me well after such a short period of time,” she commented as she slipped her coat off her shoulders and waited for him to hang it in a hall closet. She hoped her black leggings, white lace camisole, and sage-green sweater with fat buttons running up the front was appropriate attire for this sort of thing. She had never provided a private cooking lesson before, not even when she lived in the coterie.

She leaned over to unzip her boots, and he said, “Leave them.” His voice held a faint hoarse quality.

She straightened again and warned him, “Vivian is expecting a call by eight.”

He nodded. “I suspected the only way you would agree to be alone with me was if your human shields were aware, and there was a distinct end time to the encounter.”

“They aren’t human shields,” she reminded him crossly. “And you could do a lot in three hours’ time, you know.”

“Yes, I do,” he replied, and she knew they were thinking of far, far different activities.

Or maybe not. Despite her best efforts, her mind had strayed into uncharted territory the moment he opened the door and she saw him standing there in his bare feet, looking comfortable, casual, and ridiculously sexy. She hadn’t dated at all before her parents mated her off to Miguel, and the lights above knew her mate had never looked like
this
.

She swallowed the lump in her throat and followed him through the apartment.

“So am I really here to show you how to cook? Lights above, look at this kitchen!” Carley gaped, taking in the perfect, shiny, stainless steel equipment, the smooth black-and-gray swirled granite countertop, the brand-new set of Henkel knives lined up on the counter, next to an assortment of bowls and measuring cups and other sundry supplies that would be necessary for a cooking lesson.

Reid smiled his lazy smile as she wandered around the room, touching everything, admiring what he’d provided for her use. He pulled a bottle of Brunello out of the wine chiller tucked under the counter and poured two glasses while she continued to fawn over the kitchen.

As he offered her one of the glasses, she said with accusation in her voice, “If you own all of this already, you can’t possibly need a cooking lesson.”

His eyes sparkled when he spoke. “Your manager was kind enough to give me a list of supplies that would be helpful for the cooking lesson. It’s all new. For you.”

She gaped anew. “You bought all of this—for
me
?”

He sipped his wine and nodded. His eyes glowed faintly.

She crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a defiant look. “I can’t be bought, you know.” Which wasn’t entirely true. She’d been bought once. But that time, she hadn’t had a choice. And now, she vowed it would never happen again. No one controlled her actions, her destiny, except her. She didn’t live in the coterie any longer. Even the king of the lightbearers had no control over her life anymore.

It was a heady revelation.

“I don’t want to buy you,” Reid assured her. “I just want you.”

“Oh…” She lifted the glass and took a hearty swallow. She rarely drank and figured she should keep a clear head for this encounter, but she needed a little liquid courage at the moment. She had no idea how to handle the obsessive, overly attentive shifter. She didn’t have the first clue what to do with a man who seemed to genuinely want to be with her. Who genuinely
wanted
her. She suddenly wished she had a fan to wave at her heated face.

When a fan popped into existence in her hand, she and Reid both burst out laughing. The laughter managed to ease the tension that had been steadily building since she stepped into his apartment.

“Are you ready?” he asked, and for a moment, the tension returned, until he reached into the bags and began pulling out the ingredients her manager had assembled for this private cooking lesson.

“This steak rub is a secret,” she warned him, as she chopped fresh herbs and added them, along with a variety of spices, to a steel bowl.

“There is something you should know about shifters.”

“What’s that?” she asked, eyeing him warily.

“We are exceedingly loyal. If you show me your secret recipe, you can rest assured that I will share it with no one.”

“Why?”

“Because you wouldn’t want me to.”

Magic flared around her hands as she clumsily unwrapped two large steaks and kept her gaze downcast. She had the most ridiculous urge to confess everything, to tell him why she was living in Chicago instead of in the coterie. To her knowledge, no other lightbearer had ever lived outside the magical, protective wards surrounding their village. She hadn’t meant to be a pioneer. She had only wanted to live.

“Besides, I’m not a very good cook. Hence, the cooking lesson.”

She briefly wondered if maybe a cooking lesson was all he hoped to get out of this encounter, but then she dismissed her own foolish thoughts. Of course he was hoping for more.

Odd, but she
wanted
him to want more. She hadn’t yet determined if she was brave enough to give in, but the idea that he wanted her, craved her, was obsessed over
her
, made her feel stronger. She could do this.

If she wanted to.

And if she didn’t—or couldn’t go through with it—that would be okay, too. He might be disappointed, but she was confident Reid would not push her to do something she wasn’t quite ready to do. Nor would he give up on her, either. She couldn’t say precisely how she knew all of this—or maybe she could, given the amount of time they’ve spent together over the course of the last month. When she wasn’t working or sleeping, Reid was there, walking her to and from the restaurant, hanging out at the house, in her life, all the time.