Page 59 of The Chosen Two

He looks at me dumbfounded. “I don’t know. You wanna go ask him? This is all I have.”

We sit in silence a few more moments as the eerie apparition continues down the mountain road, drifting lazily, as if to taunt us. I start bouncing my knee again and am ready to burst out of my skin. “George, we have to do something. I don’t know what is going on with my husband. I need to get up there.”

“You’re right, of course. Let’s think. You need to get up there. Not me, right?” He’s spit-balling, but I’m nodding along, hopeful that he’s onto something. “Okay, so. Ah! You sneak out of the car.” He reaches up and switches the interior lights fromdoortooffbefore he continues. “Now, you sneak out, and go around to the side of the mountain and climb up. I’ll drive over there and distract the Jinn. Sound good?”

“Sound good? No, George. No part of that sounds good!” I stare at him, jaw agape, for a full minute, maybe two or three. I have no idea how to respond. Finally, I say the only thing I possibly can. “Okay. Fine. I’ll try to make it back.” I open my car door and start out, then pause and sit back in my seat. I look at him one more time. “Hey, good luck. I know you’re not my friend or anything, but I still kind of like you. Don’t die, okay?”

He nods with a small smile. “Yeah, right back atcha.”

Once I’m outside, I stay low to the ground. It’s still warm but not nearly as warm as back on the strip earlier. Tilting my head as far upward as possible, I grumble at the snow-capped mountain. I really hope they’re not at the very top of this thing. Even though I changed into my flats in the car, I don’t think my shoes are capable of getting my ass to that peak, but I start for the side of the mountain, searching for the easiest way up.

The climb takes less time than I would have expected, if I’d ever considered before how long scaling a literal fucking mountain would take me. But my trek still takes longer than I like. Who knows what kinky shit the happy couple have been up to while I’ve been slipping in mud and slamming my knees into rocks that jut out in places I don’t expect.

Not far from the top, I turn a bend and discover a plateau on the side of the mountain that seems to be man, or goddess, made. About fifty feet away, the parked SUV collects a light coating of snow. I didn’t even realize it’s snowing! I probably shouldn’t think about the weather since I’m still in my corset top and no coat. If I dwell on the fact that it’s freezing and snowing, I will not survive this night.

I crouch down again, trying to be as inconspicuous as I can in my all-dark clothing against the bright white snow. I somehow manage to sneak along the ground in my squat until I reach the limo, knowing that regardless of how anything else turns out, I will not be able to use my legs tomorrow because I’m going to be so incredibly sore. I glance around the monstrosity of a vehicle on both sides, hoping I can tell where the hell everyone is before they find me, and maybe I’ll get lucky and find some kind of glowing object that obviously belongs to the Jinn lying around. I don’t see or hear anyone, so I pray to myself that I’m not going to be discovered and ruin this rescue mission. Then I roll away to my left to try to sneak closer.

Fuck that was cold! Why do movies make those rolls look like a good idea? They’re very stupid.

On this plateau, near the top of the mountain, stands a round, open-air room that doesn’t have walls, only columns that stretch from the floor to the ceiling and are made of white stone or marble. Fifteen or so massive columns stand around the perimeter, connected by a border of white stone. Two of the columns are shorter than the rest and topped with triangular pieces of stone to create a doorway into the room. In the center of this strange room is the biggest bed I have ever seen. And on the bed, covered by a massive but rather sheer sheet, are a whole lot of writhing, moaning bodies.

Then I see it. Or, him, I should say. One of the Jakes is over by the symbolic doorway, standing guard. My heart stops for a second, and when it begins again, I feel every beat as strongly as if someone is using my chest as their bass drum. As inconceivable as it is that this miniature Mt. Olympus exists, my brain won’t let me focus on that bed and who might be in it. Every wriggle, every moan, makes me needthisJake to be my Jake more. The Jake who’s standing guard at the room’s entrance. The Jake wearing the black suit and who danced on stage. The Jake who can’t take his eyes off that bed, watching with his arms crossed and his head cocked to the side.

My breathing slows and a calmness settles throughout my body, because running away isn’t an option. Pretending that this never happened isn’t an option. Leaving my husband here isn’t an option. So, I approach slowly.

Each step brings me closer to Jake, one of them that is. The one I need so desperately to be mine. My eyes look at nothing but him, so the bed remains a blur in the background. As I get closer, I expect him to turn around. But he never does. Either he is enjoying the sex scene too much, or I’m too insignificant for him to acknowledge. Or maybe he’s just under some sort of spell that has him immobilized. I can’t imagine the goddesses dragged my husband out here to police the door to their orgy, but I’m cautiously optimistic that maybe this nightmare will be over soon. When only a few steps separate us, I exhale and find my voice.

“Jake? Sweetie? What is going on? Why are you up here?” I’m careful with the volume of my voice. I don’t want to interrupt the party on the bed if I don’t have to.

Finally, he looks right at me. And as recognition washes over him, a twisted, sadistic smile breaks his face open, and his throat emits a deep laugh. “Oh, Miranda! How perfect!” He’s not so careful with the volume of his voice. In fact, he yells my name so loudly that the writhing on the bed stops immediately.

Among the lump of bodies, the sheet flips back, and the other Jake sticks his head out. I can tell he has no shirt on. There are smears of lipstick cover his face, and his eyes are glazed over, but they seem to clear the slightest bit when he looks at me. “Miranda? What the fuck are you doing here?” His voice is angry, his words short. He is mad at me for interrupting.

My stomach twists into a knot, pushing bile to rise in my throat. How do I ever get over this? This Guardian shit better come with some mental health benefits or at least a lifetime supply of Vallium… Okay, Miranda, focus. Bring him home, and then you can kick his ass.

Although, he doesn’t really look like he’s in complete control of his wits in this moment. Maybe I’m mad at the wrong person. “Um, rescuing you…I think…”

Then Bodyguard Jake laughs again. “Did you hear that everyone? Miranda believes her husband needs rescuing.” He circles me, and his eyes contain nothing but cruelty. “Your dear husband is currently being pleasured by four Goddesses. I’m sorry to tell you this, but you aren’t half the sexual partner one of them is. And he’s havingfour. Why don’t you try and save some face. Let’s run home together, you and I.”

My eyes flash. This is who has been living with me, who has been fucking me, and it’s not Jake. My heart is pounding, trying to break free from my chest to run and hide. I would likely do the same if I wasn’t frozen to the spot, getting dizzy as I try to follow Ja—whoever this is that’s circling me. “Who are you?” I don’t sound like a Guardian when I ask. I sound like a little girl, afraid of the big bad wolf in her grandmother’s dressing gown.

“Lu, don’t be rude to our guest!” Callie says to the fake Jake as she emerges from the bed. She grabs a white satin robe off a nearby chair and ties the belt into a knot around her petite waist while she walks toward us. I’m not sure why she bothered with the sheer robe. Her perfect perky breasts are still taunting me from beneath it. As she approaches, she shakes her shiny, shoulder-length auburn locks so they fall behind her. “Miranda, it’s so nice to finally meet you. Jake’s told us so much about you. This, of course, is not Jake, but Lu. We’ll get to him in a bit. Welcome to our special place! It’s not much, but I wanted something that reminded me of home.” She puts one pale, slender hand on my shoulder and uses the other to gesture to the direction we now walk together.

Once past Lu, I see a huge wrought iron and glass table with six high-backed iron chairs around it. The table is spread with an assortment of foods in every color, grapes cascading over the edges of silver bowls onto the table top, platters of olives, cheese and fancy sliced meats, finger sandwiches and pastries topped in pastel-colored frosting. And at the head of the table, near where a chair has been pulled out and angled to face the closest chair on the long side which mirrors it, is a big, beautiful, glowing, golden coffee carafe.

She leads me to that last chair on the side, angled to face the head and with a great view of the giant bed, and gently guides me to take a seat in it. The food looks so good, and I know I should be hungry after climbing a fucking mountain, but the idea of eating makes bile rise in my throat again.

Coffee on the other hand… There’s always room for coffee. As if she’s reading my mind, which she probably is, Callie turns her doe-like eyes to Lu and signals for him to pour us coffee. I’m too numb to argue even though I usually would want to do it for myself.

“I hope Lu has been taking good care of you.” Callie sits in the chair opposite me, takes her coffee cup from Lu, and adds just a touch of cream and sugar. “He’s an incubus, you know.”

If I were not a Guardian, I’m sure her sultry voice would have hypnotized me. Maybe that’s what’s going on with Jake. I add the half and half to my coffee and take a big sip before I respond. “I’m sorry. He’s a what?” I keep expecting Lu or a griffin or a cyclops, something, anything, to jump out of nowhere and attack me. Instead, Lu-Jake pours me another piping hot cup of coffee.

Callie blinks her long, thick lashes repeatedly as if in disbelief. “An incubus. A sex demon. Shouldn’t you know that? Were you not born to know what all of us are?” She offers me a small bowl with lumps of sugar. There is something off about her hand. It looks almost sheer, like her gown.

I shake my head at the sugar and keep my tone flat and neutral. I scrunch my nose as I answer. “I’m a late bloomer.”

Callie nods and then takes a sip of her coffee. “I see. Still, I hope he’s been on his best behavior. Demons can be rather tricky to tame, but I had every faith you’d be able to handle him. After all, no demon’s had the honor of loving The Guardian before.”

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