Refuge(62)

“How did Nikolas find you anyway?” she asked around a mouthful of food.

“I was at a club in Portland with my friends,” I said vaguely. “A few days later, he tracked me down and told me what I was. I wasn’t too happy about it.”

She tossed me an incredulous look. “Why not?”

“It totally freaked me out to learn I had a demon inside me. Didn’t it bother you?”

“Are you kidding? I found out that not only was I not crazy like everyone said I was, I was immortal and had superpowers. I was like, ‘Hell yeah, where do I sign up?’”

I chewed thoughtfully own my sandwich. She and I had such different pasts. I’d had my dad and then Nate to love and care for me, not to mention my friends. Growing up in foster care and living on the street at age ten, it was no wonder she had embraced her Mohiri heritage. I never realized how fortunate I was compared to people like her and Michael who had it a lot rougher than I did.

Jordan laid her half-eaten sandwich on the nightstand and stood. “I think you and I are going to be great friends. And to show what an awesome friend I am, I’m going to prove to you that I am right about your warrior.”

“What do you mean?”

She walked into my closet. “You hide yourself under those awful hoodies, but I saw you in that wet T-shirt and it is a shame to cover that up all the time.”

“I am not hiding, and there is nothing wrong with the way I look. I happen to like my clothes because they are comfortable and practical.”

“Boring,” she sang from the depths of my closet. “Don’t you have anything in here besides these ratty jeans and tennis shoes?”

“Hey, I like those jeans.”

She emerged from the closet. “Let me guess, you had all male friends back home and not one girlfriend.”

“So?”

“So a girlfriend would have made sure you had at least a couple of decent outfits so you could dress like a female from time to time. Thank God you have me now.”

“I thought you liked me because I wasn’t too girlie.”

Jordan swept a hand up and down her body, which was clad in jeans that probably cost more than three of mine and a pretty black top with a Grecian-style yoke neck. “Do I look girlie to you? No, I look hot. Trust me, there’s a difference.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “That is your style, not mine. And if he . . . any guy doesn’t like me for who I am, then he’s not worth my time.”

“Ha! You do like him.”

“No, that was just an example. Don’t turn my words around.”

She gave me a sly grin. “You look awfully flustered for a girl who doesn’t care.”

I turned to pick up my water bottle as an excuse not to look at her smirk. “I’m flustered because you have a special talent for driving people nuts.”

She started to laugh then yelled, “Hey!” I spun around in my chair to find her on her hands and knees, peering under my bed. She looked up at me and made a face. “I hate to tell you this, but you have an imp infestation. Little bastards just stole my sandwich.”

I put a hand to my forehead. “Shoot, I forgot bring them something to eat today. They must be hungry.”

Her mouth fell open. “You feed them? You do know they are thieving little rodents who would steal your mother if they could lift her.”

From under the bed I heard outraged chattering. “I don’t think they like to be called rodents. And if they wanted to steal my mother, they are welcome to her if she ever shows up.” I tore a chunk from my own sandwich and went over to lay it under the bed. “They’re partial to blueberry muffins, but they’ll eat anything if they’re hungry.”

Jordan sat back on her haunches and stared at me. “You treat them like pets? You are one strange girl, Sara.”

I grinned because she didn’t know the half of it. “You wanna see pets? Come with me and I’ll introduce you to Hugo and Woolf.”





Chapter 10





SARA, YOU LOOK very nice tonight.”

I tugged at the hem of my borrowed top as I stepped into Tristan’s suite. “Jordan tried to go all Professor Higgins on me.” My new friend was a lot bossier than my friends back home, and it was hard to say no to her when she got an idea into her head. Tonight, she had somehow convinced me to wear one of her tops – a pale pink one with a pretty floral lace overlay that was the least revealing of the ones she’d forced me to try on – and leave my hair down for once. At least the top wasn’t as form fitting on me as it was on her. I’d drawn the line at the heels she wanted me to wear and opted for comfortable flats instead.