Burned » Kai Parker

21

"Did you book your flight yet?"

I looked up from my menu, raising an eyebrow at Sam. "For what?"

A mingled look of disapproval and disbelief crossed his features. I instantly wanted to roll my eyes and cover my face with the menu, because that right there was Sam's pre-lecture expression.

We had to wait thirty-five minutes to get a table at Ella's Ristorante, a choice made by Sam since he claimed he had an urgent craving for ravioli. Saturday nights were obviously one of the restaurant's most hectic, but Sam insisted any wait would be worth it.  I wanted to go grab a burrito bowl, but my brother had a way of twisting the odds in his favor through detailed debate speeches and pleading looks. I felt bad for the guy and forfeited my favored option for dinner.

But now, my patience was wearing thin after not winning the food battle and having to sit in the cramped waiting room across from a group of leering males for almost forty minutes. Being subjected to a Sam-style scolding on top of all that? Not ideal. At least, not before we've even ordered our appetizers.

"Tell me that was a joke," Sam said, planting both palms on top of his closed menu to lean forward. "And that you're about to pull out your phone and show me your ticket receipt. Please."

"What are you talking about?"

"The flight to Sacramento in less than two weeks, Eva!" He glanced around sheepishly, then lowered his voice to whisper-shout. "For Thanksgiving. Didn't Mama call to remind you?"

I pursed my mouth awkwardly, realization setting in. Whoops.

"Oh. That flight."

"Yes, that flight." He looked exasperated and reclined back into his side of the booth. "I knew I should've just booked your ticket for you."

"Relax, Sam. I'll do it as soon as I get home."

"Well, it should've been done. It's our first time home since we moved to Portland, Eva. Aren't you excited?"

I studied my menu a little too closely, avoiding his imploring eyes. "Yeah. Thrilled."

At the initiation ceremony, when Kai made his ridiculously impromptu announcement that I was one of the chosen representatives, the anticipation to be back in Sacramento for any length of time would've been an immediate reaction. It was home, after all. Portland wasn't home. But as fall progressed, it began to feel less like a place that I would snatch any opportunity to be away from and more of a comfortable atmosphere to willingly immerse myself in. I guess I was just adaptable. Or, rather, my circumstances had shaped themselves in my favor.

Maybe the coven leader down the hall from me had played a role in easing the anti-Portland agenda I'd once stuck to.

Since the morning I woke up in his bed with a raging hangover, I'd only seen him in the hall, parking lot, or the elevator, when I was off to work and he was taking care of Gemini business. It was always small talk–or, Kai's version of it, which meant rambling or flirtatious comments targeted at me with no clear end in sight. He hadn't mentioned training in any of those quick conversations.

Except for one vivid interaction in particular. He hadn't mentioned it, so to speak, but the intention to lure me back into a regular training groove was clear as day.

The entree section of the menu found a place in the back of mind, as the memory from a few days ago was toggled free.

I knocked on the door three times, then rested my weight on one hip, waiting. The clean shirt and boxers were tucked under my arm, folded and fresh.