Witch Bound (Twilight of the Gods) (10 page)

Done.

He released her. He and Audrey sat staring at her for a moment and when they were certain she wasn’t going to explode or anything, Audrey said, “Well?”

Rocky rotated her arm to look at the design. “It tingles a bit on my skin, but I can’t feel the difference inside.”

“Try it.” He lifted his chin to indicate the pizza. At the edge of his control, he needed her to leave soon. He hoped to hell this worked. If it did, he’d only need to see her again like this once more to place the permanent tattoo. And then he could make himself scarce until the wedding.

She flipped open the cardboard lid and squinted at the pizza with the intensity of a starving pit bull. It should have been comical, but both he and Audrey held their breaths until the cheese began to bubble. Audrey made a yip of joy and grabbed his hand.

Well, it was nice, he supposed, to have someone not afraid to touch him. But other than that? Nothing. Rocky wasn’t even paying any attention to him and he could feel her on his skin.

You could hear the sizzle now and a tendril of smoke rose up. Rocky finally glanced away from the pizza and looked at him, a big smile creasing her face. “I did it.”

“You did it.”

“Rocky?” She turned that smile to Audrey, who stood. “Turn it off, Rocky.”

“What do you—”

The pepperoni blackened and shriveled as they watched. That tendril of smoke expanded and a flame ignited in the center of the slice. Rocky looked panicked as she climbed to her feet. He grabbed the cardboard box, intending to bring it to the sink, when the pizza burst entirely into flame.

Audrey shouted as the box disintegrated to ash in his hands, but the blackened ball of grease and cheese continued to burn.

“Shit.”

Rocky had darted ahead of him into the kitchen and ran back in with a bowl of water. “Shit. Shit. I’m so sorry, Fen.”

She dumped her bowl on the molten mess and Audrey brought another. It took three altogether to put the damn thing out, but not before the fire had melted the nylon fiber of the carpet. Rocky apologized while she tried to repair the damage, but even she gave up after a few minutes. She looked forlornly around the room. “It’s right in the middle too. You can’t even reposition your furniture around it.”

He shrugged. “It’s just an area rug. I redid the floors and planned to replace that one anyway after I painted and bought furniture. It’s one of the reasons I haven’t unpacked everything yet.”

Raquel closed her eyes and he resisted the urge to go to her.

“Well, what do you think, Rocky? That was promising, right?”

Her expression didn’t change. Her shoulders slumped and she looked plain defeated. He didn’t think it was over his rug.

“Sure,” she agreed, mustering a smile and climbing to her feet. “It’s pretty late. We should head home. Unless...” She waved at the sodden, melted mess. There was nothing else to be done about that.

“Don’t worry about this. I’ll roll it up so the water doesn’t damage the wood. You should probably wash off the runes before you go.”

He watched her walk toward the bathroom until Audrey cleared her throat. “You see what I mean by the fire hose? She needs to pull it back until she learns how to control it. I think the block is her mind’s natural defense system kicking in. She could have burned down your house.”

“She didn’t though.” He kept his voice low, a natural habit having lived with a hound all his life. Rocky didn’t need to hear more people talking about her. She was under enough pressure.

“Could have though.”

Fen reached down and hauled Audrey up. “Tonight’s not the time to worry at it. Let her rest, sober up, and we’ll give it another shot.”

“You’re right. Okay then, well, I’m going to warm up the car.”

“You drove? You’re three blocks away.”

Audrey pulled on her jacket, one of those subzero parkas even though the overnight low was only going to be about forty or so. “I hate the cold.”

A hat, gloves. “You’re from Colorado.”

She grinned. “Still hate the cold. Don’t worry, I didn’t have anything to drink other than the soda I brought, unlike my lush of a sister.” The laughter in her eyes faded and she was suddenly serious. “She doesn’t usually drink like that. I’m worried about her.”

Fen wanted to ignore that. He’d been trying to figure out all night how to put some distance between him and his friend’s drowsily adorable bride. “Hopefully we can figure out how to break her block.”

“That’s not—” Audrey clamped her teeth down on whatever she’d been about to say and shook her head. “Yeah, if you can help her out with that, it would be a huge relief. I know she feels bad about everything. Mom was the one who kept her from talking. Well, that and the no contact rule in effect until last week. I knew Rocky wouldn’t be able to keep quiet until the wedding. She’s god-awful bad about keeping secrets.”

He’d seen some of that himself. She was extraordinarily transparent about...everything. He didn’t plan to share his own secret with her. It was a doozy. And he thought Rocky felt a glimmer of that same attraction. As awkward as it was to dance around, he hoped to God she didn’t want to talk about it. Ever.

Audrey paused at the door as though she wanted to say something else, but then just smiled and waved. “Send her out when she’s done. When are we going to try this again?”

“In a few days. I’ll play around with the design.”

She nodded and was gone, hands tucked under her armpits for warmth as she darted out to the car. He waited until she got it started before going to see what was taking Rocky so long.

He rapped his knuckles on the bathroom door.

“Just a minute.” Her voice was muffled, but even through the door he could tell something was wrong.

He rested his fingertips on the wood. The water wasn’t running, and he couldn’t hear her moving. He couldn’t hear anything but her strangely deep breaths and the too-rapid beat of her heart. His own picked up speed. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah.” A querulous sound that made him reach for the doorknob and push open the door before he thought it through.
Fuck.
He couldn’t go on like this. She reduced him to a bundle of impulse and instinct. Nothing but want and all the jealousy and guilt that came along with it.

She was sitting on the toilet seat, fully dressed and staring at her arm. Her sleeve was pushed up to her elbow and she hadn’t even tried to scrub off the runes. “I think I might keep them.”

She looked up and the panic in her eyes caught his heart and squeezed tight. “We’ll try a different combination in a few days. One that might work better.”

“I was just thinking, what if it doesn’t work at all next time? This time worked a little. Maybe you should cut these in now.”

“I’m not going to cut you and these...well, they’re not my finest work.” He took a washcloth from the cabinet and ran it under warm water, adding a bit of soap and squeezing until he saw suds. He knelt in front of her, his feet hitting the heat register mounted on the wall behind him. He smiled and took hold of her wrist. “It’s professional pride, you understand? I can’t have you running around like this and telling everyone it’s my work. We’ll do better next time. Get it exactly right.”

He heard her swallow but continued wiping the runes from her skin. He didn’t want to look up and see the tears he could scent. He didn’t trust himself with her this way. Not when she was vulnerable and hurting and all he wanted to do was wrap her up in his arms.

“At least it did
something
.” She’d barely gotten a thread of magic to pull through the block. Their weakest witch could do better. She wouldn’t be satisfied with that if she were thinking straight. This was fear talking.

“I can always place these again, only maybe with a little more care. This was just a test run, remember.”

“I wanted it to work.”

“I know.”

Her skin was so soft, like the petal of a rose. Creamy white against his charcoal-stained hands. She swiped at her face with her free hand. “Where’s Audrey?”

“Warming up the car, probably wondering what’s taking you so long.”

“I’m sorry.” She gave a halfhearted laugh. “I keep falling apart on you.”

“I don’t mind. You’re under a lot of stress.” He stood and tossed the washcloth in the sink, offered her his hand and pulled her up when she took it. “Christian...” He winced, catching his own expression in the mirror. Want. Guilt. Jealousy. He didn’t know how to finish the thought.

Raquel didn’t make him. She leaned into him, or fell against him. Either way, her hands splayed on his chest and he sucked in a mouthful of air at the contact.

“I know,” she whispered, and he thought that she did. Her face tipped up toward him. One inch, he only had to drop his chin a bit and curve an arm around her shoulders to snug her in tight against his body. Tears still gathered in the corners of her eyes though she’d never cried, not really. Vulnerable and hurting, adjusting to their crazy town and all of its ornery inhabitants. If he were Christian, he wouldn’t let her out of his sight.

He touched her waist and turned her, regret making his smile stiff. Audrey honked the horn and he pushed Raquel into the hallway. “You go. I’ll call you when I have the new design ready.”

She only glanced back once, at the door. “I’m sorry.”

He nodded.

The damnedest thing was that he believed her. He thought if she was free, she might have kissed him. And for her, he might take the chance of losing himself. But he knew the cost. He only had to look at Brian and Julia to remember why he’d made that vow to never take a mate. He didn’t intend to bind himself to anyone ever and certainly not to this woman. He wouldn’t betray Christian. And Rocky...
Fuck.
He was
not
going there.

And none of it mattered anyway because right now, Rocky wasn’t offering him anything more than an apology.

Chapter Nine

Raquel copped another peek at Christian when he wasn’t looking. He’d offered lunch and she’d asked if they could take it out to the lake so she could get another look at the fault. Maybe without Lois looking over her shoulder, she’d see something she’d missed the other day.

But Christian was just as distracting, albeit in an altogether different way. He was like some kind of god. Thor reincarnate. Strong body, straight and tall, dark blond hair and those sharp blue eyes. She didn’t know how to handle him—not his deep silences or his aggressive charm. He made her edgy and uncertain, uncomfortable in her own skin.

She wondered if that was what had made her seek out Fen for help rather than going to Christian. Fen was far more approachable—weird, since he was a hound and most people gave the pack wide berth. There were challenges to being a hound that outsiders couldn’t possibly understand. She’d always thought it would be hardest to be a counselor crow. Cool to be able to fly, yes. And you’d also have the respect people naturally afforded to the Odin’s counselors. It would be fun to have a twin too. But to live for that long, watching people born and die while you remained the same for centuries...uh-uh, she wouldn’t choose that for all the world. Nor would she ever choose to be a hound.

She was perfectly happy being a witch. If only she could take her place.

Self-doubt was eating away at her confidence and making her second-guess everything. That’s all. She wasn’t throwing Fen under the wheels of that bus, Christian either. Or her family.

Christian was hers. He was a good man. Kind and strong. He wanted her, and she respected the hell out of him. She was attracted to him too. How could she not be? That could turn into love, and she owed it to everyone to at least give it a chance.

She thought of Fen last night, wiping the runes from her arm. The gentle touch of his hands and the not-gentle look in his eyes. When she’d stumbled against him in the bathroom, she’d felt his erection. Full and hard and straining at his jeans. And true...that didn’t necessarily mean anything. He was a hound, a twentysomething-year-old virgin. It was understandable that he’d react to a woman throwing herself at him. But she’d felt him press against her...just for a moment. She’d caught the raw expression on his face. And it had set her to wondering what those skillful hands would feel like on other parts of her body. What it would be like if she’d been contracted to Fen instead of Christian.

And there was
no point
to wondering things like that. Fen didn’t want a mate and she already had one. She just...had to find a way to make the pieces fit.

The lake was long and narrow. Christian led them down a deer path that ended in a rocky outcrop overlooking the water. He spread a blanket and sat down, swinging his feet out over the edge, and she did the same. This side was bluff, but a little farther down the land gentled to grass and dirt. A willow tree grew among the other barren trees, still golden-leaved and restless in the wind. If someone trucked sand in, it would be a perfect spot for a beach. Geese and a few ducks didn’t seem to mind the weird energy here. Neither did the other wildlife. Most people born to this world wouldn’t even feel it.

“I used to come here a lot when I was little.”

She put her hands behind her and braced her weight on her arms. “Training?”

“Sometimes. Mostly just to get away. My father trained me himself.” He met her gaze briefly. “He wanted the perfect warrior. Sometimes...I needed to get away from that.”

Sun glinted in the gold of his hair. Strange to think that a man like Christian had ever worried about measuring up.

“Well, it looks like he got his wish.”

“Maybe.” He stared at his feet for a moment, then turned his head to catch her gaze. “Fen said you were upset about our expectation that you’d be able to fix this. We’ll fix this even if Aiden has to barter services with the other clans to call in help. And...even if you’re never able to assume the role as clan witch, I’m okay with that.”

Her instinct was to avoid his searching look, but she forced herself to face this head-on. “Fen’s trying to help me figure a way past the block. Using some runes to amplify my power and control. I think we’ll figure it out.”

“I don’t want you to hurt yourself trying to prove something. Not to me.”

As far as romantic declarations went, that one sucked donkey balls, but the look in his eyes made up for it. A promise there, one he was making on his own and not because of a contract he’d never signed. “Thank you, Christian. It means a lot to me to hear you say that.”

“I don’t want perfection.” But he did, he tried so hard to be perfect. Maybe he didn’t demand it from others, but Raquel thought he wanted perfection very badly. She reached for his hand and he pulled hers to his mouth, kissed the backs of her knuckles and set it on his thigh. “And I don’t want to mess this up.”

He handed her a sandwich and a bottle of water. The sandwich was turkey and Havarti with thin slices of apple—either a startling coincidence or he’d asked her mother what she liked. They ate their lunch, talking about nothing in particular, as though they’d just met and wouldn’t be marching down the aisle together in two weeks. It was nice to have that pressure lifted and enjoy his company, the beautiful day, the view.

“Isn’t it strange that you haven’t had any snow yet?”

He shrugged. “It’s a little unusual. Do you like snow?”

“Yeah, I do.” She liked that cocooned feeling of not being able to run around. Almost like hibernation. She’d go crazy if it was like that all the time, but a few months a year of sitting in front of a fire reading books suited her just fine.

“They say if you don’t like the weather to wait five minutes. But I hope it holds off. Once the snow falls, we’re covered until March.”

A suspicion came to her. “Did you have anything to do with the mild weather?”

Æsir were born to a specific caste, but it wasn’t unusual to have a few minor gifts thrown in.

“Not me. I
would
have delayed the snow if I had that kind of talent, but I don’t. Aiden does. I’ll find out who we have to thank for the wedding gift.”

“So do you have any other talents?”

He leered at her and when she laughed, some of the tension in his shoulders eased.

“No, no other gifts. I’m only a huntsman. I kill things and I run the co-op. That’s it.”

She didn’t believe it was that simple. The glint in his eyes was dark and wicked and very, very complicated. She wanted to know that Christian—the hard, unpredictable man that peeked around the corners of perfection.

“How about you? Do you have any other talents I should know about?”

She rolled her eyes. “I can’t even manage the one I have.”

“Fen said the rune work was promising.”

“Is he giving you reports?” Something about the expression on his face made her add, “You should have come. Audrey was there.”

“I’ll come tonight.”

As the silence stretched, she began to worry that he would question her about last night. She had the sneaking suspicion that Fen had told Christian more than she’d be comfortable with him knowing. Did Christian know she’d gotten stupid drunk, lit Fen’s house on fire and then tried to jump him? In the end, he didn’t bring up any of those things.

Instead, he threaded his hand through her hair and pulled her close, keeping his gaze on her face, reading every flicker of expression. She thought he might be able to read the truth there even if Fen had kept her secrets. He was gentle but firm, inexorably pulling her close, settling his mouth on hers.

The image of Fen rose in her mind as she closed her eyes. The look he’d given her last night—dark, hungry, lost. She shoved that aside. This wasn’t betrayal. Fen didn’t want her.

Christian’s mouth tasted tart like the apple he’d eaten and he was one hell of a kisser. There was something very raw about the way he kissed. As if the wicked, irreverent man he hid behind that civilized mask came out to play the moment he touched her.

He took her lower lip between his teeth and tugged at it, opening her mouth so his tongue could slip inside. His hand on her waist adjusted the alignment of her body. His fingers twined in her hair held her steady as he took her mouth.

His free hand found its way under her jacket to the waistband of her jeans. Cold fingertips grazed the warm skin of her belly and made her startle. His cheek, which was pressed to hers, pulled in a smile and then his lips were on her neck. Her back arched and his fingers hooked inside her waistband.

“I want you.” His voice was rough.

No.
“Here?”

“Anywhere.”

She opened her eyes and he was staring down at her. His body was tense but still as he waited for her answer.

She swallowed hard. “Remember when you told me you wanted our first kiss to be special?”

“I thought it was special.”

“You know what I mean. Why the change of heart?”

His gaze grew heated and something inside her definitely responded, even while another part of her was completely unmoved. “I always wanted you. I don’t like the doubt I keep seeing in your eyes. You’re mine, Raquel. I’m not giving you up.”

“You’re worried I’m going to back out?” He’d never given any sign of it, but he held his cards so tightly to his chest.

“No.” A pause. “I hope not. It’s stressful, this waiting. I want everything settled.”

She touched his chest and he searched her face for a moment before closing his eyes. A shudder passed through him. He drew his hand from beneath her jacket and cupped it against her cheek.

He kissed her again, this time with a gentleness that was sweet. Tucking a strand of loose hair behind her ear, he said, “But you’re not ready. How about we take a look around and then...will you spend the rest of the day with me?”

The night too. He was offering that, she could see it in his eyes. Hunger. Possessiveness. Challenge. He wanted her. At this most basic level, apart from duty and contracts and loyalty, Christian wanted to fuck her brains out. Attraction. They could start with basic physical attraction and work from there. Why the hell not?

Because it was wrong.

* * *

“Over here.” Christian stopped beside a ward stone while she searched for its mate. She thought she’d start by checking the wards themselves. Right now, what she felt was as strong and stable as the fault back home, but there had to be something...

She cast around for the next stone. It had been windy last night and even though they’d only been placed a few days ago, some of the stones were already covered by debris. She took a step toward a pile of leaves covering a dip in the ground and her breath caught in her throat.

There was a drop-off just a few feet away, a steep hill that might hold a small creek in the spring. It was dry now but not empty. Something was down there, black and limp, lying in the crumpled leaves. At first she recoiled, thinking it was a demon, but the magical imprint they made in this world didn’t slam into her. If it was a demon, it was a dead one.

Whatever—whoever—it was, wasn’t getting out of there on its own.

“Christian,” she shouted, and he was there before she turned to look for him.

He slid down the drop, one hand grazing the ground for balance. She went behind him, more carefully. Last thing they needed was for her to twist an ankle now.

“Oh God.”

It was one of the crows. As Raquel drew nearer, she recognized the injured woman as Rane, the crow who’d been arguing with Aiden at the welcome party. Her face was a bloodied, swollen mess, nose and jaw both broken. A gash on her forehead still bled sluggishly. She was naked. The black that had caught Raquel’s attention in the first place were her feathers, which were damp and plastered to her skin. That was a bad, bad sign. Christian’s pinched face confirmed it. Rane had had trouble completing her transformation. Usually that indicated severe internal trauma.

Raquel dropped to her knees beside the body and felt for a heartbeat while Christian called for help on his phone. She found a pulse, tremulous and weak, fluttering beneath the pale skin at Rane’s neck.

“Aiden? We found Rane near the fault. West side of the lake, near the cliff. She’s hurt badly.” A pause. “No, bring Alan here. I’m afraid to move her.” Christian looked at Rane, eyes bleak, face hard and filled with helpless anger. “We’ll do what we can. Hurry.”

Raquel had already taken off her coat and laid it over Rane’s body. Her skin was naturally pale which made the blood and bruises stand out in stark contrast. Black feathers stuck to the drying blood.

“We can bind the wounds.” Christian reached for his pack.

Raquel shook her head. “There are too many small cuts and she’s not bleeding badly anymore.” Which wasn’t a particularly good sign. It just meant Rane didn’t have that much more blood to lose. Raquel had apprenticed with their healer last year at Kathy’s insistence. Being a witch didn’t necessarily make you a good healer. Healers, in fact, were usually witches who had very minor gifts magic wise. Their true talent lay in their intuition and control. She couldn’t heal Rane. If she tried, she might do more damage than good. But she could keep her heart beating until help arrived, could keep her lungs drawing air and prevent her from losing any more blood.

She pressed her palm to Rane’s heart and closed her eyes. Focused on matching the beat of the crow’s heart to her own. A small magic, less than lighting a match or activating a rune, but she focused all her attention on it.

She heard Christian stand, and a moment later a weight landed atop the body as he gently covered Rane’s exposed legs with his coat. He settled himself at Rane’s head and talked to her in a low voice while Raquel tried to keep the weakening heart muscle pumping blood.

God, what had happened? She’d never seen injuries like this. Demons, for all of their terror, were straightforward killers. They didn’t generally toy with their prey. These wounds had been purposefully placed to keep Rane alive as long as possible and suffering. And they’d left her here to bleed out alone at the very center of clan land.

Rane whimpered and Christian lowered his head. “Stay with us, Rane. Help is coming. I hear them, they’re almost here now.”