Bound (22 page)

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Authors: Erica O'Rourke

BOOK: Bound
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C
HAPTER
25
W
hen I woke the next morning—way earlier than usual, so early the sky was inky blue, the sun a pale smudge on the horizon—Luc was still there.
I flipped back the covers and crept to where he was sleeping, one arm thrown over his head, the other draped across his chest. In all the time I’d known him, I’d never seen him so unguarded. His lashes feathered across his cheeks, softening the harsh lines of his face, the curve of his mouth gentle and unexpectedly sweet. His breathing was slow and regular, even when I edged closer. Our binding felt quiet, different from the crackling energy that typically passed between us.
Even asleep, he radiated heat, and I stretched my hand out, hovering over his skin but not touching, deliberately not letting my gaze drift any farther south. I was definitely not looking at the curve of his hip bone, the way the muscle seemed to cut graceful, dangerous lines into him.
“Didn’t your mama teach you it was impolite to stare?”
Before I could react, his hand had snaked over mine, pressing my palm flush against his chest.
Had I thought his skin felt warm? It was practically feverish, and the longer he kept my hand trapped—eyes still closed, breathing unchanged—the more heat spread through me, a flush creeping up my neck and across my face, as if it were contagious.
“I wasn’t staring.”
“Hmn.” He tugged on my hand till I lost my balance and sprawled ungracefully next to him. “I appreciate the initiative, but I’d rather we finish this in your bed.”
“Finish?” My voice came out as a squeak, and I scrambled up.
“You weren’t starting something?” His tone was teasing. His look was not.
I tugged on the hem of my T-shirt, trying to salvage some dignity. Then I caught sight of my hair in the mirror and gave up. “Absolutely not. I need to get ready for school.”
“That excuse won’t work today.” He stood in one fluid, graceful motion. He
was
wearing pants—jeans, worn soft with age and slung low on the hips—and I felt almost light-headed with relief. It was short-lived, though, because he reached for me, catching a lock of my hair, wrapping the curl around his finger. “You’re playing hooky.”
“Oh. Right. The Quartoren.” And I could breathe again. “I can fake the flu for another day, I guess.”
It was easy to convince my mom. She took one look at the color high in my cheeks, my overbright eyes, and sent me back to bed. My dad didn’t buy it for a minute, but he and my mom left for the restaurant on time, leaving us alone. Together.
The minute I heard our Taurus rumble down the street, I jumped out of bed, needing more than space between me and Luc. I needed walls. Doors with locks. Because the strange feeling in my stomach wasn’t the flu, and he was the only logical explanation.
“I’m taking a shower,” I said, and fled down the hallway.
“Want company?” he called after me.
I scrubbed until my skin was pink, letting the water run until it started to cool. When I stepped onto the bath mat, the room was filled with clouds of steam, the mirror too foggy to see my reflection. Intent on escaping Luc, I’d left my robe hanging on the back of my bedroom door. So I wrapped a towel around me, squeezed out my hair, and stepped into the hallway, prepared to boot him out of my room while I dressed.
Colin was halfway up the stairs.
For a split second, I thought I could make it back to the bathroom and hide for the next week or so. But he spotted me before I could act on the impulse, his eyebrows shooting up.
“What are you doing here?” I croaked.
“Your mom said you were sick.”
My door was still shut, giving no sign that Luc was within, and I was struck with a very clear idea of how many things could potentially go wrong in the next five minutes. “Not exactly.”
“That’s what your dad said.”
I shifted, water trickling from my hair into the edge of the towel. “But you came to check on me. You were worried?”
“I wanted to make sure you weren’t off doing something stupid and reckless.”
Annoyance welled up inside me. It was a nice change from despair, so I didn’t try to hold it in. “I like to save stupid and reckless for after lunch. Does that work for you?”
“It doesn’t,” he said, gripping the banister.
“Good thing I’m not asking your permission, then.”
“Mo—”
“Took you long enough,” said Luc, opening the door. “I was about to come in and—” He broke off as he caught sight of Colin. “Didn’t realize we had company.”
Colin studied him for a second—bare-footed, bare-chested, hair mussed from sleep—and then looked back at me. I clutched the towel around my chest and said nothing.
“We?” Colin asked. Something I couldn’t define crossed his face, chased by cold contempt. “I guess you decided not to wait for lunch.”
Before I could respond, Luc sauntered over. He stopped behind me, a shade too close to be innocent, and slicked water off my back with the palm of his hand. His fingers curved over my shoulder, light but unmistakably possessive. “Little busy here, Cujo. Something you needed?”
His needling, cocky tone broke me out of my stupor. Luc was treating this like a game—like he and Colin were competing for me, and he’d just scored.
He had not scored. In any sense of the word. And I wasn’t about to let Colin think he had.
“Luc, hands off. Colin, wait downstairs.”
For a moment, Luc looked apologetic, like he knew he’d overstepped. Then he released me, and I walked to the bedroom, pretending I was not mortified by the length of my towel.
As soon as the door shut behind me, I yanked clothes out of drawers—jeans, tank, henley, cardigan, all as black as my mood. Layers upon layers, and not just because I’d be jumping between climates today. Not all of Luc’s display had been for Colin’s benefit. I wanted as much clothing between us as possible.
I pulled my wet hair into a knot and swiped a ChapStick across my lips. That was all the effort I could spare for my appearance right now. Appearances were what had gotten me into trouble in the first place.
Luc knocked on the door. “You decent?”
“I’m dressed.” Decent people would not have to deal with this situation. With these feelings. Decent people knew what they wanted. They stuck to the plan.
“Liked the other look better,” he said. “Cujo’s downstairs. Listen hard enough, you’ll hear him frowning.”
“He’s got a right,” I said, not meeting Luc’s eyes.
“Does he? I was under the impression you two were done.”
“Like you
care,
” I snapped. “Like it makes a difference to you.”
“Tried to change your mind, sure. But I didn’t poach.” Luc said. “Now you’re fair game.”
I shoved at him. “It’s not a game! It’s my life, and you’re treating it like ...”
I shoved again, unable to find the words. He caught my wrists, held me still, and I couldn’t decide if I wanted to punch him in the stomach or weep.
“I’m sorry,” he said, so quietly I felt the words vibrating through his chest more than I heard them. “Walked out of the room, and you looked halfway to broken. Saw your face go whiter than that towel, like you were bleeding out in front of me. Figured the best way to make it stop was to make him hurt, too. Didn’t consider it might hurt you more. Instinct. Not a game.”
He was a guy. I wasn’t so naive as to think competition wasn’t a factor. But when I drew back, his eyes were clouded with concern and apology, the typical self-assured gleam missing, and I felt my temper dissipate.
Dissipate. Not disappear. I took a deep breath and kept my voice on the stubborn side of firm. “Don’t touch me like that again.”
His mouth dropped open in protest, but I shook my head. “Not to piss Colin off. Not to prove a point. You said if I kissed you, it had to be for real, and I’m telling you the same thing. You touch me again, Luc, and it had damn well better be because you mean it.”
His hands tightened on my wrists before letting go entirely. Movements jerky, he pulled on his shirt. “See, you’re acting like that’s a threat. But you know what I hear? You’re not entirely averse to the notion.”
I swallowed. Thought about the press of his hand against the damp skin of my back. The thread of magic between us, simultaneously familiar and unnerving. His insistence that I could do more—
be
more—than anyone, including me, believed.
“You have to be honest with me. Which means you have to be honest with yourself.”
His fingers flexed as if he wanted to reach for me, but instead he simply looked at me like all the layers I was wearing didn’t exist. “Works both ways, Mouse.”
“I know.”
I went downstairs, to face Colin and the music.
C
HAPTER
26
I
’d never gotten used to the sight of Colin standing in my kitchen, leaning against the counter with a coffee cup in hand, scowling into the distance. Every time, it made my breath catch, my pulse jump. Usually, it was a good thing.
Not today.
“You planning on some B&E this afternoon?” he asked, eyeing my all-black outfit.
“Not in my skill set,” I said. “I have other things on my plate right now. Stupid and reckless things.”
He set the mug down. “Luc told me about the attack. Are you hurt?”
Trust Colin to focus on the least important part of the story. “I’m fine. Nothing happened. With Luc, I mean.”
“Not my business if it did.”
“No,” I said slowly, the urge to plead forgiveness fading. “I guess it’s not. But I’m telling you anyway. Why do you think that is?”
“I don’t know why you do anything,” he said. “If I had to guess, I’d say guilty conscience.”
“Pay attention,” I snapped. “Nothing. Happened. But you know what? It doesn’t matter. You have made your feelings about me abundantly clear. You want nothing to do with me. So, I get to sleep with whomever I want. You don’t get to pass judgment. You don’t get to make spiteful comments. You don’t even get to make faces about it, because
you’re the one that shut me down.
”
“You lied to me.”
“To save your life, you ungrateful dumb-ass. And I’m done apologizing.” I managed to cross the kitchen, pulled a mug from the cupboard. He was standing in front of the coffeepot. “Move, please.”
He folded his arms and stared.
“Move. ”
“I didn’t shut you down.”
“The hell you didn’t.” I elbowed him out of the way and poured myself a cup of coffee. “We haven’t spoken in days. Today’s the first time you’ve even looked at me.”
“You were kind of an eyeful.”
I could feel my cheeks heating again, but I watched him over the rim of the cup. “You’ve seen more.”
“Still a surprise. Luc walked in, and I jumped to conclusions. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“Sure you did.” And I wondered why—was it spite, or jealousy? Bad either way, but one held out hope.
He pushed off the counter. “A little.”
“A lot.”
“I’m sorry.” He held my gaze, the apology genuine.
“So am I.”
The corner of his mouth twitched, a gesture I knew so well, and one I’d missed so much that my heart constricted. “You said you were done apologizing.”
“Haven’t we already established I’m a liar?” I asked.
He dragged a hand across his face. “I didn’t want you to know about Tess. About what I’d done.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s ugly. It’s like poison, what happened to us. It ruins everything it touches.”
“Only because you let it. You made a choice, and it was awful, but it was the best one you had. You saved Tess’s life.”
Misery flashed across his face. “Some life.”
“Would you rather have buried her? And you saved your life, too. Maybe it doesn’t matter much to you, but I’m pretty glad.”
“You saved mine,” he said.
I took another sip of coffee. “I did. I’d do it again.”
“I wish you hadn’t. But ... I am grateful. Somehow that got lost in all of this.”
“You’re welcome,” I said. Lots of things had gotten lost. More than I’d realized. Then I asked the question that frightened me most. “Where does this leave us?”
I’d spent seventeen years being the girl with the answers. Straight-A student, my hand always the first in the air, the one who ruined the curve every time. None of it helped me now. In the past week, Colin had transformed from a familiar to foreign territory, and I no longer knew if I was welcome.
He dropped his head, like he was too tired to stay upright anymore. “I know your intentions are good. But it was the one thing I asked you to leave. The
one thing,
Mo. And you couldn’t do it. I don’t know how to get past that.”
I stared at the ceiling, forcing back tears. “I never expected otherwise.” I finished my coffee and pushed away from the counter. “Time for me to go.”
“Wait.” He caught my arm before I could escape. “I’m still pissed. But this plan—drawing out Anton—sounds dangerous.”
“It is.” And I realized I wanted the danger—not just to survive, or protect the magic, but because it was a distraction. When I was fighting Anton, I couldn’t think about Colin, or feel sorry for myself.
“Skip it. We can come up with a new plan. Let Luc handle him while we find a way to protect you and the magic.”
If I did that, we were right back where we started. “Not your call.”
“It’s—”
“Your job? Protecting me from Ekomov is your job. Anything else was because of us. And there is no us. Add this to the list of things in my life that are none of your business.”
“Mo. I’m angry. It doesn’t change ...”
“You said you’d never lied to me,” I said, low and halting. “Don’t start now.”
“I love you.”
I closed my eyes for a moment, tears collecting beneath my lashes, and bit down on my lip so hard I tasted copper. “I have to go.”
I crossed the living room, waiting for him to ask me to stay.
He didn’t.
I reached for the door handle, and he finally spoke. “Your uncle wants to see you. Tonight.”
“So he can gloat? No, thanks.”
“It’s not optional. And he doesn’t want Luc there, either.”
No, he wouldn’t want Luc around. It would give me the advantage. Billy gave all sorts of things away—advice, favors, jobs—but never the advantage. Now he’d given me the biggest one of all, and he didn’t even realize it. He’d taken away everything I wanted—Colin, a future outside of Chicago, my family’s shot at a happy ending. There was nothing left for me to lose, and the awfulness of that truth made me more dangerous than he could possibly guess.
My smile felt as brittle as old veneer and just as ready to crack.
“I’ll be by tonight.”

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