Tethered to the World: A Phantom Touched Novel

by Brutger, Stacey

  “Their souls are dying.” Even as she watched, colorless butterflies landed on the bodies. Florescent blue veins forked across their wings as they began to feed.

  “What…”

  Annora didn’t want to tell him, admit to him that she was a monster, but they had a right to know who lived in their house. She refused to look at him as she explained how the afterworld worked. “I told you this is a place where people come to die. I can draw people here. Something about me attracts the attention of the creatures here.”

  Mason eyed the darkness more closely, edging in front of her, as if he planned to protect her from the monsters. Her stomach tumbled at the sweet gesture.

  “They won’t hurt me.” She edged around him and headed toward the prisoners when he reached out and clamped his hand around her arm, his fingers encircling her easily, refusing to let her get any closer. She patted his arm, then nodded toward the prisoners. “Come. Watch.”

  She leaned over one of them, scattering the butterflies with a wave of her hand.

  Mason loomed behind her, watching them flutter in the air, seconds away from plucking her up and running like hell. She ignored him as she studied the prisoners, focusing on the last one, the youngest, who seemed to be the least infected by evil.

  When she moved, Mason stiffened, grabbing her shoulders. “What are you doing?”

  He sounded like he expected her to disappear. She reached up and patted his hand. “This place stands between life and death. I can tip the balance…at least for a fraction of time.”

  “It’s where you heal people—” He shook his head. “Where your uncle forced you to heal people.”

  He looked ready to protest, not liking that they were asking her to do the same thing.

  “This is different. This is my choice. Watch.”

  She touched the tar oozing out of the prisoner until it turned to smoke, and she slowly dragged it out of his body. He began to cough, and hacked out a cloud of dust. She didn’t stop pulling until the dull, golden strands of his life force slowly began to flicker and brighten.

  The black veins retreated some, the drug flushing out of his system, and when he blinked, blue tears trailed down his cheeks. Only when the darkness infesting him gradually retreated did she pull back.

  When Mason reached out to touch the black tar, she smacked his hand away, panic tightening her chest so quickly she lost her breath. “Don’t. That black tar is death.”

  Instead of recoiling, he grabbed her arm and dragged her away from the prisoners, the troll in him taking over as the need to protect her surged to the forefront of his mind.

  “Easy, buddy. For some reason, the tar doesn’t like me.” She pointed to the glow lighting her up like a beacon in the dark world. “Whatever power I have keeps the tar from…sticking to me.”

  He relaxed only marginally.

  “Look at the prisoner. Most of the sludge has slid off, reabsorbed back into this world. He’s not healed, not completely, but he has a choice now…go back to his old ways and turn dark again, or start fresh and heal.” She wrapped her hands around Mason’s forearm, then smiled up at him. “Ready to go back?”

  His eyebrows rose, his gaze flicking to the waking prisoner like he was tempted to thrash the man back into unconsciousness again, and she shook his arm.

  His only answer was an inarticulate grunt.

  As the kid began to wake, his wolf came skulking out of the shadows.

  It took one look at her, tucked its tail between his legs, and took off running.

  The kid swallowed hard, looking around the afterworld, horror written on his face, and began to babble. “Don’t leave me here. They made me do it.”

  Ignoring him, she released the darkness and watched their surroundings gradually brighten, until her eyes ached. Without saying anything, each of the guys searched her for injury, not speaking until they were completely satisfied that she had all her limbs.

  Her bruises and cuts stung as they slowly knitted shut, while her body pushed the last bit of the drug out of her system, a parting gift as the darkness withdrew. The pain left her skin tingling, and she relished the way it left her body hypersensitive and ready to fight.

  The youngest prisoner began hacking, gasping for breath, thrashing to be released from his bindings. Ignoring everyone else in the room, she stopped in front of him.

  The kid immediately stilled, lurching back against his chair to get away from her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Don’t send me back there. I’ll do anything.”

  Florescent blue tears trickled down his face as he sobbed.

  “I’ll take it from here.” Rufus placed a hand on her shoulder and nudged her away, then glanced at the guys. “Take her home. Make sure she gets some food and rest.” He looked down at the kid, who was practically peeing in his pants, and smiled. “I’ll let you know what I find out.”

  The guys took the dismissal and immediately headed for her. Annora backed up to allow them to exit first. When her back was pressed against the bench, she slipped one of the vials into her pocket.

  Something about the drug was vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t put her finger on why. She was determined to figure it out, positive the answers to who was behind everything rested in her pocket.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  The ride home was silent, everyone lost in their own thoughts. Logan and Mason sat in the back with her, each of them touching her every few seconds to reassure themselves. Camden would glance at her every once in the while in the rearview mirror, while Xander didn’t even pretend he wasn’t watching her as he sat sideways in his seat.

  “Give it over.” Xander held out his hand.

  “Whatever do you mean?” Annora did her best to pretend ignorance.

  His lips quirked, his teal eyes heating with challenge, and he raised a single, imperious brow.

  She heaved a sigh and rolled her eyes, then dug the vial out of her pocket and slapped it into his outstretched palm.

  Logan and Mason didn’t react, but Camden stiffened, his vivid green eyes hardening. “Why did you take that?”

  “Not for the reason you think.” She clicked her tongue in annoyance. She watched the color in the vial slowly slide down the glass, her brain stumbling over the mystery. “That color…I know that color.”

  Then her eyes widened, and she lurched back in alarm. The pack connection was flung wide open at her panic, and the guys all went on alert. Xander grabbed a gun from the glovebox, Camden slammed on the gas, Logan swiveled to glance out the back window, reaching behind the seat to pull out a heavily kitted out rifle, while Mason used his body to block the window, gently pushing her down as he studied their surroundings.

  She couldn’t speak as they went into action, their moves smooth and practiced, and she couldn’t help wondering how often they came under attack. Not wanting to distract them, she kept quiet until they arrived back home five minutes later.

  The guys exited the vehicle first. Camden and Xander secured the area, Logan darted toward the house to clear it, while Mason tucked her up against his naked torso, using his body once again to protect her as he ushered her into the house.

  Xander and Camden quickly followed, the two of them systematically clearing the ground floor. Mason guided her in the kitchen, then took up guard duty. In less than a minute, all the guys gathered around the table.

  The guns were gone.

  Xander produced the vial, placing it on the counter, and all eyes turned toward her.

  “You figured something out,” Logan murmured.

  Uncertain how to explain it, she blurted out her theory. “We were right. They’re killing off shifters to produce the drug.”

  Camden stalked forward and gripped her shoulders until she saw only him. “Are you sure?”

  She nodded, then glanced at Mason. “Do you remember the butterflies in the afterworld?”

  His brows scrunched up. Instead of nodding, his eyes widened, and he glanced down at the vial. “Someone is harv
esting their life force.”

  The other guys glanced at each other in confusion, and she lifted her hand, allowing a few particles from the afterworld to slip free. She whistled gently, and a single black butterfly floated into view, landing like dandelion fluff on the counter. Its wings flapped slowly, almost hypnotically.

  Not willing to have it feed off of any of the men, she grabbed a knife and quickly slashed her palm before the guys could stop her. They yelled, reaching for her, and she hurriedly backed away, slipping to the other side of the counter. “Watch!”

  They paused, the inaction clearly costing them. Camden’s skin rippled, Logan had smoke rising from where he gripped the back of a chair, Mason began bulking up, while the white strands in Xander’s hair were standing on end.

  A couple of drops of blood splotched on the counter just a few inches away from the vial and the butterfly. The creature stilled, then launched into the air, landing over the blood.

  In seconds, it was feeding.

  Tiny blue veins began to thread into his wings, the spark of florescent blue glowing brighter and brighter. It took less than a minute for the blood to vanish.

  The only thing left on the counter was the vial with just a trace of the drug and the now-matching butterfly.

  “Fuck me,” Camden whirled away as he cursed, tunneling his fingers through his hair.

  Xander didn’t move as he continued to watch the tiny creature, a hardness entering his eyes that she didn’t like. She waved her hand, banishing the darkness, and the butterfly vanished in a wisp of black smoke.

  “But how would they learn how to do that?” Logan indicated the vial holding the drug, but made no move to touch it. The yearning was there, the craving, and she caught his fingers in hers. Only then did she realize it wasn’t the drugs that he wanted.

  He pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her from behind and nuzzled her neck. Touch intensified their connection, and she sensed that the sight of her blood had freaked him out, and he was doing this to distract them both.

  He gently pried open her fist to see the cut had already scabbed over, but not yet healed.

  “Heal it,” his voice was gruff.

  A demand.

  His body warmed until the heat became a sauna.

  “I don’t feel it,” she murmured, trying to soothe him, which only ended up pissing him off more if the low, rumbling growl against her back was any indication. She blew out an exasperated breath, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. “Fine.”

  The darkness seeped up from her pores, an almost invisible black mist that congealed over the wound. It sank into the injury with a sting, the blackness weaving through her flesh, slowly stitching her back together. The pain was low-level, a delicious lick against her nerves, hovering between pleasure and pain.

  Then the injury was gone, taking the sensations with it.

  Xander reached forward, caught her wrist, and uncurled her fist. He then dragged his fingers slowly across her palm, over the freshly healed skin, sending a shiver of desire down her spine.

  She wasn’t sure if the sensation was from her or him, and didn’t actually care.

  He picked up her hand, bent, then lightly brushed his lips across her palm, gazing up at her the whole time. Tingles of lust swept through her, a sharp demand for more. He seemed pleased by her reaction. He released her slowly, the heated look making her sway toward him. Logan’s hands slipped up to brush the undersides of her breasts, and her breath caught. Any thoughts of the case fell away.

  For the first time in her life, she actually wanted something—or certain someones—for herself.

  Would it be so wrong to be happy?

  * * *

  Xander watched the play of emotions across Annora’s delicate face, his heart banging against his ribs with both hope and fear. He’d felt her in the back of his mind, a calming presence, and he liked it.

  Not only did it soothe his beast when he thought nothing would, she was sexy as fuck, the human in him craving her love just as much, if not more.

  She grounded him.

  Kept him sane.

  Made him feel like he was more than the bringer of death and destruction.

  When she vanished, disappeared from his mind when she was knocked unconscious, his whole world imploded. He barely kept his beast from breaking free to wreak havoc across earth and destroying anyone who got in his way. It was only when he felt her reach out to him, the connection distant and hazy, that he was able to take back enough control to function normally.

  His beast had calmed, knowing that their human form would be better able to help her. He was only able to breathe again when he saw her, touched her, and smelled the scent that was uniquely hers, like flowers that grew along the tidal areas of his ocean’s homeland.

  After nearly losing her, he was through with waiting.

  He wasn’t ever going to let her go.

  She was his, and he’d be damned if he let anyone take her away from him ever again.

  “Go, take a shower.” He hauled her out of Logan’s hold, not the least bit perturbed by the other man’s affections. The kitsune needed her just as much as Xander did. He couldn’t begrudge the affection she felt toward the man who’d become like a brother to him.

  She needed the kitsune to make her whole.

  And whatever she needed, he would make sure she had it.

  He watched her reluctantly leave, and he couldn’t help imagining her in the shower.

  Naked.

  Her porcelain white skin lathered with suds.

  Wet and waiting for him.

  When she passed him, she nearly tripped over her feet. He caught her close, noting her innocent eyes were wide. The way her breathing roughened, he knew she’d caught the naked images of her from his mind.

  And he fucking loved that he could affect her that way, his cock so hard it hurt.

  He watched her ass give a little extra wiggle as she sashayed away, his mouth going dry, wishing with everything in him that he would find her in his room, waiting for him, even though he knew it was much too soon. Despite her uncle being a sadistic asshole, she was sheltered—innocent.

  He would rather die of blue balls than be the one to take that from her before she was ready.

  * * *

  Annora took a quick shower, wanting to linger in the luxury of as much heated water as she wanted, but she was exhausted. It was after midnight, and the adrenaline that had kept her going was long gone.

  Stripped down to her panties and a tank top, she slipped into bed, slightly amused when she heard the rustle and crinkle of empty chip bags. The four ferrets lay curled up in a knot. As she eased the covers back up, one of them peered at her from their tangle on the second pillow. Only when he decided she was okay did he lie his head back down.

  There was an accusation in his eyes, like he was upset for having been ordered home…which was silly. She must be more tired than she thought. She slipped her hand under her pillow, comforted by the feel of metal blades, and closed her eyes, allowing sleep to claim her.

  But the near miss, almost being taken again, left her with restless dreams. She could feel her uncle searching for her, ready to grab her, and then she was back in that fucking underground hell. Her cell was twelve feet by ten feet—and the feeling of being trapped lodged her heart in her throat until she was unable to catch her breath, knowing she would never be able to escape a second time.

  Then the lights in the cell went out, smothering her in darkness. She tried to hold her breath against the chemicals filling the room, but it was no use. When she felt her lungs would burst, she sucked in a breath, and immediately felt herself go woozy. She fought it, hunkered low to the ground, but the smoke followed her everywhere.

  When her eyes opened, she was strapped to a familiar stainless-steel table, the icy cold metal burning her flesh, the shackles biting into her wrists and ankles. She could ghost and escape, but she’d learned it was better to take her punishment or it would only get worse. She coul
dn’t stay gone forever. If she remained in the afterworld too long, it was difficult to find her way back.

  Not to mention what stalked her in the afterworld frightened her a hell of a lot more than her uncle.

  Her uncle wanted her abilities, wanted to be rich, but he lacked ambition.

  The stranger—he wanted something else.

  He wanted…her.

  How or why she didn’t know, and it frightened the shit out of her because she knew he would find her eventually, and there was nothing she could do to escape him.

  She shoved away the fear, retreated in her mind, waiting for the torture to begin, the expectation of what he would do to her worse than the pain. Though she couldn’t see her uncle, she could feel him circling, drawing closer.

  Then the sound of a blowtorch clicked and a flame seared the soles of her feet.

  The pain hit her hard and fast, and she gritted her teeth, then gave her uncle a flippant grin that probably came off more like a grimace, but it would still piss him off all the same.

  She knew what he wanted.

  Compliance.

  Obedience.

  She’d refused to break.

  She swallowed the pain, made it her bitch, refusing to give into the bastard.

  The flames licked at her feet, the stench of burning flesh making her gag, and she grabbed onto the table to steady herself. The flesh bubbled up, the blisters popped, and her skin curled as it blackened, leaving the bottoms of her feet a raw, charred mess. Minutes felt like hours as he moved up her feet to her ankles and legs, the flames searing her flesh.

  And he wouldn’t stop until she screamed.

  She wouldn’t give the bastard the satisfaction.

  “Annora!” Hands grabbed her from beyond the darkness, and she was suddenly free. “Wake up!”