Magic Unchained Page 8

  She reached out, hesitated, and then touched his back, first lightly and then harder, splaying her fingers wide to cover the firm muscles beside his spine and absorb the warmth coming through his shirt. He stiffened but didn’t turn, and she pressed her cheek to her hand, so she was leaning into him, against him, as she had done when they were younger, before her father had started keeping Sven to himself as much as possible. “Stay,” she whispered, aware that he’d frozen in place and the only sound was the jingle of the bay gelding mouthing his bit, impatient to be off.

  “I can’t.” The two words came out ragged.

  “Why?”

  He shrugged her off and turned to face her, his expression thunderous. “I just can’t, okay? I promised your father.”

  Tired of cricking her neck to look up at him, she climbed up on a nearby bale of hay to meet his glare. The moment their gazes connected, though, something strange happened; dark heat in his eyes stopped looking like anger and started looking way more like what she’d seen from the guys she hung out with, the kind of fire that said, I’m getting hot and bothered and I’m wondering if you’re going to let me do something about it. But where with those other boys it was something like a game, coming from Sven, the look seared her to her toes.

  “What promise?” she managed to get out breathlessly.

  He hesitated. “I said I would ride out and get a head count on the high pastures, check for signs of any big cats messing with the stock.”

  Cara barely heard him over the urgent thudding of her pulse and the sudden knowledge that this was her answer. This was how she could convince him to stay. Guys were all the same when it came to the basics, right? God, she hoped so.

  She leaned in even as a small, panicked voice inside her said that this wasn’t just any guy. And as that same voice warned that she should stop, back away, and not make a huge mistake, she caught a startled-looking Sven by the collar with her free hand and locked her mouth to his. And kissed him.

  Heat flared through her, made of equal parts excitement and the panicked thought of, Oh, shit, what am I doing?

  His lips parted on a muffled sound of surprise and his fingers flexed in her grip, but he didn’t jerk away. If anything, he yielded against her, not all the way, but enough that she let go of his hand to flatten her palm on his chest, right over his heart. It beat with a quick, jumpy rhythm that sent new, surer heat flaring through her body along with a heady triumph that made her feel suddenly powerful. She—tiny little Cara, with her ranch clothes and weirdly striped hair—was hooking up with a college guy. And not just any college guy. This was Sven, and he’d looked at her with heat in his eyes.

  Sparks igniting at the thought of him wanting her, she deepened the kiss and slid her tongue against his, wringing a full-body shudder from him. His hands tightened at her hip and upper arm, making her aware that they were almost embracing, with her breasts just grazing his chest and their thighs a breath apart. She moved closer, bringing their bodies fully into contact, and the sparks went to flames. Head spinning, she pressed closer, feeling the solid warmth of his muscles and—

  “Shit!” He tore his mouth away and in a split second his hands went from holding her close to pushing her away so he could stare at her. This time there was no mistaking his expression. And horror didn’t look nearly so good on him as desire had. “Jesus, Cara. No. We can’t.”

  Flushing with a sudden echo of that same horror, she brazened it out, tipping up her chin to say, “Sure we can. So stay, please, at least for tonight.” She wasn’t sure how much she was offering, only that she needed him to not leave.

  “Why? Why is it so important?” His fingers dug in as he searched her face.

  But she didn’t know how to answer. She was flushed and freaked, and could only stutter, “I-it just is, okay? Can you do it my way, just once, and stay because I asked you to?” She hadn’t meant to say it that way, hadn’t meant to make him choose. But once it was out there, she couldn’t call it back. She could only wait and hope, knowing that if he really cared for her, even a little, he would—

  “I can’t.” The two words sliced through her, as did the regret in his eyes as he let go of her and held his hands out at his sides in surrender, or maybe apology. He might’ve had those hands all over her only a few moments earlier, but now he seemed a zillion miles away. His expression was closed, his jaw set. “I’m sorry, Cara. I just… can’t.”

  Catching the bay’s reins, he headed for the door, walking stiffly.

  “You’re leaving?” She hated that her voice cracked on the last word, hated that she was all churned up, her emotions running right near the surface of her soul and threatening to overflow. “Just like that?”

  “It’s past noon already,” he said without looking back. “I need to get going if I’m going to make the high pastures before dark.” But although that was what he said aloud, the subtext was all too clear: Nice try, but it’s not enough. I’d rather be out there alone than in here with you.

  Which was the story of her life, really. Her father didn’t want to spend time with her, so why should Sven? And her mother… A sob caught in her throat, then broke free as a harsh, bubbling sound.

  Sven stopped. Man and horse were silhouetted in the wide doorway, with the rolling hills behind them topped by a gorgeous blue sky. It should’ve been a postcard. Then again, if it had been, she would’ve torn it up. She didn’t need this, didn’t need him. Shouldn’t need anybody. It would be so much better that way.

  “Christ, Cara… don’t cry.” He took a step back, but then stopped and just stared at her. With the light behind him she couldn’t see his expression, but that was probably for the best. The last thing she wanted was his pity.

  “Go.” She waved him off. “Just go, damn it.”

  He hesitated… and then turned away, climbed on the rangy bay gelding, and headed for the hills, like always. Only this time he never really came back.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The memory faded, leaving a wistful ache behind. But despite Sven’s apparent belief that their kiss had rocked her world—and not in a good way—it hadn’t really changed anything for her. It had—for her, at least—been just another good-bye, another disappointment.

  “It was never about the kiss, Sven.” Her voice sounded rusty, as if she’d been silent far longer than she thought. Sure, maybe she had used the memory of those sparks as a benchmark for other kisses, other men, but her excitement that day had been more about being seventeen and outdoing her friends than it had been about him.

  His fingers tightened on hers. “I made you cry.”

  “I was seventeen. Lots of things made me cry.” Like being scared about her mom and not having anyone to talk to, lean on.

  “That time it was my fault,” he insisted. “I shouldn’t have kissed you back, and I sure as hell shouldn’t have taken off like that. You can’t pretend things didn’t change between us after that.”

  She pulled her hand away. “That’s because you were never around!” She hadn’t meant to yell it, but suddenly couldn’t dial down the volume. “You missed every birthday, every holiday, every big event. And when Dad wanted to blame someone for you being gone, since he couldn’t blame himself, he blamed me. If you want to make that about the kiss, then go ahead. I don’t care, because I know the truth, which is that you’ve always lived in your own world, and it has nothing to do with geography.” Making herself stop before she said something she’d regret, she blew out a breath. “You don’t get to run away from home and still be part of a family, Sven. It doesn’t work that way.”

  For a moment, there was nothing but silence.

  She expected a denial or—worse—pity and an argument. Instead, after a too-long pause while his eyes darkened with sorrow, he sighed and said, “Yeah. Shit. I know. I was just hoping…” He shifted, tried to shove his hands in his pockets, didn’t have any, and settled for hitching his thumbs in his waistband, which made his sweats slip precariously. “I guess I was hoping that the k
iss was the problem between you and me, because that was something I did, which means I could promise to never do it again. As for the other, hell, yes, I’m sorry, Cara. I’m sorry for not being around enough when your mom was sick, and I’m sorry I didn’t come back for the funeral. Most of all, I’m sorry that I haven’t ever been someone you could count on.”

  Her throat tightened. “I never asked you to be that guy. In fact, I don’t need that guy—I can take care of myself.”

  “You shouldn’t have to, not all the time.” His eyes shifted, and for an instant she saw the same heat she’d seen that day in the barn. This time, though, it came from a different kind of frustration. “You deserve someone who’ll look out for you the way you always look out for the people around you, someone who’ll put you first and foremost, who’ll be there for you no matter what.”

  Zane had said nearly the same thing, but where his words had put her on the defensive, Sven’s brought a burn of tears that forced her to blink too quickly and remind herself that he wasn’t actually offering. “Sven…” she began, but then trailed off, unable to find the words when her emotions were too big, her defenses too low.

  “I wish I could’ve been that guy for you. And I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me.”

  It was the apology she had wanted, needed from him. Or so she had told herself over the years. Yet she found herself whispering, “But?” She heard it in his voice, could see it in his face.

  He exhaled. “I can’t promise to change. I want to say that I’ll be there for you… but it would be a lie.”

  She didn’t know when the angry heat had faded. All she knew was that she was suddenly cold, almost numb. “Because of the writs.” The Nightkeepers’ code spelled out a mage’s duty to act first for the gods and mankind, then his king and the other magi and on down, with family near the bottom of the list.

  He shook his head. “The writs aren’t the problem. I am. I can’t… I’m just not the kind of guy who sticks around. And as much as I wish I could change that—and by the gods, I do; I swear it—I can’t make myself stay put.” He spread his hands. “This is who I am.”

  It was stupid to be surprised or annoyed, yet she was suddenly both. “Bullshit. That’s a cop-out. People can change if they really want to.”

  “You’re thinking like a human. Be a winikin instead.” He tapped his forearm, where he wore the talent marks that said he was a warrior-translocator, capable of fighting, strategizing, and moving things with his mind. Most prominent, though, was the glyph designating him as a member of the coyote bloodline, with an additional circle and numerical dots representing his bond with Mac. “The bloodline stereotypes are stereotypes for a reason. The jaguars are stubborn, the eagles obsessive, the harvesters nurturing, and the coyotes… Well, the coyotes are loners, Cara, and footloose as hell.”

  “That’s…” Bullshit, she wanted to insist, but couldn’t. Because all of a sudden, Sven’s behavior—and her father’s refusal to blame him for it—crystallized in a way it never had before.

  The lean ranginess she had always admired in him, the faint air of wildness that clung to him no matter where he was or what he was wearing, yeah, that was pure coyote. And although the bloodline characteristics had always seemed like a convenient excuse, she’d seen other aspects of the magic at work. Hell, she’d experienced it herself. Given that she’d suffered a string of low-grade illnesses that had vanished the moment she set foot back inside Skywatch, who knew what other tendencies were programmed in at the DNA level?

  What if his inability to stay put and deal with real-life problems hadn’t been self-centeredness so much as an inborn need to roam? What then?

  As if she’d asked the question aloud, he said, “I didn’t know I was a coyote when we were younger. All I knew was that I’d rather be out in the backcountry than at home, and then, once I was away from the ranch, it was easier to keep going than it was to turn back… at least until I wound up here.” He indicated Skywatch and the box canyon surrounding them. “I’ve done my damnedest to stick it out. Learning to use the magic helped, I think, and swearing fealty to the king… But once Mac and I bonded, the restlessness came back. When I’m here, I feel caged in, claustrophobic.” He stretched his limbs, as if even that light layer of clothing was too restrictive. “Hell, even on the outside, I can’t stay in one place too long.”

  “You could fight it,” she said softly, though the words brought a twinge from her winikin self.

  Expression hollowing, he said, “I’ve tried to stay put, Cara. I swear I’ve tried. But the bloodline wins every time.” He paused, his expression flattening. “It’s no accident that I’m the only unmated Nightkeeper. Your dad told me once that the coyote magi didn’t usually have gods-destined mates. A few had familiars, like I do, but when it came to mates they tended to swing, no harm no foul; have your fun or even your kids and then move on.”

  She winced, but said, “That’s not your style.”

  “Isn’t it? I’ve never been in a relationship that lasted past the one-month mark.”

  “You didn’t leave any kids behind.”

  He shrugged. “Different time, different culture.”

  “You’re—” She bit off “not that guy,” not because it was untrue—coyote or not, he was a better man than that—but because she suddenly realized she had somehow fallen into winikin mode. She was soothing him when she really wanted to grab him by the collar and shake him until his perfect teeth rattled. But that was even worse, because it shouldn’t matter to her. He wasn’t her charge, wasn’t her responsibility, and he sure as hell wasn’t someone she should be wanting to make promises to her.

  This was a mistake. She should’ve left the wieners and Skittles in the hall, then knocked and bolted like it was some sort of apologetic practical joke.

  Before she could make an excuse and escape, though, he said, “The main thing I’ve figured out is that since I can’t change who I am, the best I can do is apologize and try my damnedest not to hurt anyone else.” He paused, then reached out to her. “I’m sorry for not being there when you needed me, Cara. Please forgive me.”

  She hesitated, torn by the part of her that still thought he could’ve gone against his nature if he’d truly wanted to. But in the end it didn’t matter, did it? She was getting the apology she’d never expected, the one she’d told herself not to need. So she took his hand. “Apology accepted. And thank you.”

  She’d meant to shake on it, but before she could make the move, he lifted their joined hands and pressed his lips to her knuckles. And although he’d probably meant it as a more-than-a-handshake gesture, it became far more than that in the moment his lips touched her skin.

  Heat seared from the point of contact, racing inward, tightening her chest and stealing her oxygen. Her head spun as all her perceptions suddenly focused on the pressure of his fingers, the soft warmth of his mouth, and the startlement in his eyes as they flew to hers and then darkened, letting her know that she wasn’t the only one feeling the unexpected sizzle.

  “Don’t,” she said. Her voice was little more than a whisper, and she wasn’t really sure which one of them she was talking to.

  “I won’t. I’m not. I didn’t mean… Shit. I’m sorry.” But although he lowered their hands, he didn’t let go. Instead he tugged her closer, so she was standing in the vee of his legs, near enough that she could feel the heat from his body.

  If her defenses had been low before, they were hell and gone now, lost beneath the sudden thunder of blood in her veins. She wanted to pull back but couldn’t make herself move; she wanted to look away but his eyes dominated her vision, drawing her in. “Sven?” she said softly, not even sure what she was asking.

  “It’s the magic,” he grated. “I used too much earlier and now I can’t… Damn it.”

  “You… Oh.” Excitement flared at the realization that she wasn’t the only one whose defenses were low. Except in his case he was trying to block the powerful, sensual magic of a full-fledg
ed—and unmated—Nightkeeper male, the sex magic that kicked in when his other reserves were drained.

  He tightened his grip on her hand. “You should go.”

  “I know.” But she stayed put, rooted by a sudden urgency that came not from the magic, but from her earlier encounter with Zane and the little voice inside her that sometimes whispered that she was remembering it wrong, that she was looking for something that didn’t really exist outside her girlhood fantasies.

  “Seriously. You need to leave.” His free hand came up to touch her cheek and his eyes went dark and intense.

  “In a minute. First, I have a confession.” She hesitated. “I wasn’t being entirely honest earlier when I said the kiss was no big deal. It was, though not the way you were thinking. It’s more that I’ve always compared other guys to what I felt that day. But lately I’ve been wondering… what if that wasn’t that great?” Though the way her pulse was throbbing now suggested that the sparks had been real and, more, that the attraction had persisted despite the many times he’d disappointed her.

  His eyes darkened, but instead of arguing, he rasped, “Last chance to leave, Cara.”

  But the pressure of his hands drew her toward him instead, overriding the part of her that said she should stop, pull back, think this through. “I don’t want to,” she said, though her voice nearly cracked on the words. “I want you to kiss me instead, like before. One kiss, and then you ride off and don’t look back.” That was what made the experiment okay, the knowledge that he wouldn’t be around for long. “I want—”

  “Time’s up.” Eyes flaring with a wildness that set fire to her blood, he moved in on her, curled his fingers around her hips, and kissed her.