Circle of Desire

by Keri Arthur

  “She wasn’t a crush.” His voice was tight with the anger that rolled through him. “Drop it, Kat.”

  She sighed again. “You are really the most stubborn and irritating man.”

  “Takes one to know one.”

  Amusement swam around him. “I hardly think you can call me a man.”

  He couldn’t help smiling, despite the anger. “Well, no.”

  “Will you answer just one more question?”

  His smile faded as he flexed his fingers against the steering wheel. “Maybe.”

  “Why do you say you hate kids so much when you’re obviously close to your niece?”

  He relaxed a little. At least this was a question he could answer with practiced ease. “I don’t hate kids. I just don’t want any of my own.”

  “Why?”

  Because he didn’t want any child of his going through what he’d been through. And the surest way to ensure that was simply not to have any. “That’s a second question.”

  “Given you didn’t actually answer the first properly, I think it should be allowed.”

  She was persistent, he had to give her that. But he also had to wonder why. Was she thinking about trying to trap him by becoming pregnant? He stared at her for a moment, trying to gauge whether she was capable of such deception. While he didn’t really think she’d stoop so low, the truth was, beyond the physical, they really didn’t know each other all that well.

  God, he’d better keep his wits about him and make damn sure they kept using condoms!

  “Because,” he lied, his voice a little sharper than necessary, “a werewolf’s sense of family is all tied up with his heart. I can’t physically love any offspring I might sire on any woman other than the one who captured my heart.”

  “Yet you love Janie.”

  “But she’s not my get, and I don’t love her in the same way.”

  “So what would happen if one of your monthly mates were to get pregnant?”

  Tension knotted his gut, and he shot her a glance. “Don’t even think about it, Kat. I like you—a lot—but that’s as far as it goes. I don’t love you, and I certainly couldn’t love any offspring you and I might produce.”

  “I’m not thinking about it, believe me.” Her voice was hard, almost bitter. “And that didn’t answer the question.”

  He took a deep breath, then blew it out in exasperation. “If I answer this, will you promise to drop the subject for good?”

  Her gaze searched his briefly. He wondered what the hell she was searching for.

  “Yes,” she said after a moment.

  “Good.” He hesitated, steering the car around a sharp bend. They were approaching the cabin where he’d found the zombies, and he slowed, needing to look for a place to park. “If one of my mates got pregnant, I would support them financially, but that’s it. I wouldn’t see them again. Wouldn’t see the kid.”

  “But why? That’s what I can’t understand.”

  He stopped the car in a stand of trees and turned to face her. “Because it’s never good for a child to see his father treating his mother with utter contempt. And that’s all I’d feel for someone who tried to trap me that way.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “If the vehemence behind that statement is anything to go by, you’ve seen something like that happen.”

  “Yeah,” he said tightly. “My parents.”

  Because his mom had trapped his dad, even though she’d known what he was. What he was capable of. It was a small town and she’d been scared of ending up alone. Better a freak than nothing, she’d once told him.

  But their often bitter relationship was another reason he’d been more than happy to leave that place as soon as he could.

  For several seconds there was nothing to be seen in Kat’s expression. Nothing beyond curiosity in the emotive swirl that swam between them. That in itself eased some of his tension, and when she smiled, it dissipated even more.

  “I was only asking, Ethan, so relax. In a job like mine, I can hardly afford to be carting a kid around.”

  Even so, he was going to keep carrying condoms in his jeans pocket. “Good. Because I’d hate to think you’d sink so low.”

  “Never fear,” she said, thrusting open the door almost viciously. “I know you’re in it for nothing more than a good time, and I don’t intend to forget it. Or the condoms.”

  “Good,” he muttered and climbed out of the car.

  And wondered why the thought of her belly fat and round with his child filled him with such fierce and sudden longing.

  KAT SQUATTED BESIDE ETHAN AND STUDIED THE OLD SHACK below them. It was a small wooden structure that looked to have been at the mercy of the elements for a good five years. Not the warmest hideaway in the world, though it was doubtful the dead really cared.

  She shifted the weight of the pack on her back, then said, “You wait here. Once I’m sure the sleep bombs have worked, I’ll call you over.”

  He placed a hand on her arm, stopping her from rising. “I don’t think you should go down there alone.”

  She bit down on her impatience and ignored the concern in his eyes. “We’ve been through this already. Gran only included one mask.” Truth was, she didn’t include any. They didn’t need them, because these sleep bombs were designed to affect only the dead. But she needed to get away from him for a few minutes. Needed time alone to gather her thoughts. To contemplate the reality of bringing a kid into the world who, like her, might never know his father.

  Pain rose. She pushed it away and stood. “I’ve been doing this a long time. I know what I’m doing when it comes to the dead.” It was the living she couldn’t understand.

  She walked down the slope to the small cabin. The smell of death was so overwhelming she gagged. She took several deep breaths through her mouth to ease the churning in her stomach, then edged around the corner and headed for the nearest window. The glass was grimy, but even so, she could see the dead on the floor. Ten of them. God help her and Ethan if they woke before the sleeping potions had a chance to work.

  She kinetically unlocked the window and eased it up. The zombie closest to her stirred. She froze, hoping the gentle breeze playing in her hair didn’t take her smell to it.

  It turned, then began to snore. She swung the pack off and carefully dug out the four golf ball–sized bombs. They were warm against her palms, their feel almost jellylike. She tossed one into each corner of the cabin, listened for the gentle plop that indicated the outer skin had broken, and watched as pale fingers of red smoke began to ease across the floor. She closed the window and glanced at her watch. They’d have to wait five minutes for the mist to do its stuff, making it safe enough to enter.

  She squatted on her heels and leaned back against the cabin wall. Thunder rumbled overhead, a warning of the storm clearly gathering. The smell of rain sharpened the air but didn’t quite erase the smell of the dead. She hoped the storm didn’t break until after they’d explored whatever it was the zombies protected. If those clouds were anything to go by, the storm was going to be a doozy. Maybe enough to wake the sleep-spelled dead.

  She let her gaze roam across the tree line until she found the shadows in which Ethan hid.

  What in hell was she going to do with him?

  He kept insisting he wasn’t capable of loving her, and yet his touch and his eyes and the emotions that sometimes surged between them suggested otherwise.

  Could a wolf lose his heart more than once?

  She’d ask him, except for the fact that she’d promised to drop the subject and didn’t want to risk alienating him completely. Maybe it was a question Gwen could answer.

  She hoped so. Because she very much suspected she was falling in love with the man.

  She hugged her arms around her belly. She’d find out tonight whether she was pregnant or not. And if she was, there was one thing she was suddenly certain of.

  Her child would know its father.

  She’d grown up without that knowledge and knew the pai
n it caused. If he didn’t want any part of his child’s life, then fair enough, but her child would know who he was, what he looked like, what he did, and where he lived. That child would have the sense of history, of belonging, that in many respects she never had, no matter how much Gran had loved her. Four simple pieces of information could have made her childhood seem a whole lot less of a mistake.

  And perhaps most important, her child would never be in doubt that her mother not only wanted her, but loved her. Or him, as the case may be.

  She glanced at her watch again, then rose and looked inside. The red mist had almost dissipated. It should be safe enough now to enter without waking the zombies.

  She signaled to Ethan, then carefully opened the window. A heartbeat later she felt the warmth of his presence wash over her senses.

  “What, no masks?” Ethan asked, voice low and annoyed as she clambered inside.

  She hid her smile and met his gaze. “Don’t need them with the mist almost gone.”

  He snorted softly. “Wouldn’t be a ploy to keep me at a safe distance while you explored, would it?”

  “Of course not,” she said absently as she looked around, trying to sense the presence of anything other than the sleeping zombies.

  “That’s what I figured.” He stepped carefully over a zombie. “What are we looking for?”

  “I don’t know. You check that door.” She waved a hand at the door to their left. “And I’ll look around here.”

  He made his way toward the door. She stayed where she was, hands on her hips, as she studied the floor. The air gently caressing her face was damp and smelled slightly musty. It wasn’t the staleness of a cellar, but rather that of an old cave. Suggesting, perhaps, there was another access point here besides the window and the front door. One that went down rather than out.

  She stepped over a dead man and followed the caress of air into the shadows. And found a trapdoor. One that had a zombie sleeping over the top of it.

  “Nothing in this room,” Ethan said quietly. “You find anything?”

  “Yeah, a zombie in the damn way.”

  He stopped beside her. “So why not kill it?”

  She gave him an annoyed look. “Contrary to popular opinion, I do not run around killing zombies willy-nilly. Besides, if I kill any of these things right now, the person who raised them will know.”

  “Then let’s move it, so we can check out the door.” His voice held an edge of impatience. Or maybe it was annoyance.

  “I’ll move it. You touch it, and it might just wake.”

  She directed a thick lance of kinetic energy at the zombie, carefully moving it closer to the window. It stirred, tearing at her kinetic hold. Hot lances of fire burned into her brain, and she bit her lip, blinking back tears as she eased the creature back to the floor.

  Ethan had the trapdoor open and was squatting near the edge, peering down into the darkness. “It smells damp. Musty.”

  She nodded. At least the air coming up from the darkness was free from the scent of death—for the moment, anyway. “I’ll go down first, check that it’s okay.”

  He glanced at her. “What if we’re attacked?”

  She slipped off the pack and opened it, grabbing the stakes and zombie deterrents. “Use these,” she said, offering him a set.

  He just looked at them. “Thanks, but I’ll stick to my gun.”

  “A gun’s not much use in a situation like this.”

  “I’m sure they’ll stop if you shoot their damn brains out.”

  “They would, but it would also make far too much noise.” But she put one set of weapons away. He was obviously determined to stick to his gun, and noise be damned.

  She handed him the pack, then peered into the hole. It was as dark as hell down there, but the breeze was coming from the right. She looked up at Ethan. “Just how good is your night sight?”

  “Wolf keen.” He frowned. “I was under the impression your sight was pretty damn good as well.”

  “It normally is, but I can’t see squat down there.”

  “Then I’d better lead once we’re down.”

  She nodded and climbed in, dropping lightly to the stony ground. For several seconds she did nothing more than listen. Everything was still—silent. Almost oppressively so.

  She met Ethan’s gaze. “It’s okay.”

  He jumped down, then caught her hand, his fingers warm against hers. “Nothing?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing dead, at any rate.”

  “Good.”

  He tugged her forward. The chill in the air increased, and the ground seemed to be sloping downward, though the darkness was so deep it was hard to be sure. The tunnel was narrow, tight, and her breath caught as she imagined the weight of the walls and the roof bearing down on her. She had only to straighten her fingers and she could brush the cold stone. Sweat trickled down her forehead, and she bit her lip. Damn it, why couldn’t she see? It was odd, to say the least. Especially when Ethan obviously could. She would have thought a raven’s sight to be nearly as good as a wolf’s, but obviously, it wasn’t. Or maybe it was just the fact that they were under the ground rather than above it.

  Ahead, moisture dripped, lending the darkness a steady heartbeat. The dank smell increased, until it almost felt like they were breathing in liquid.

  “I’d say there’s a river overhead.” Though his voice was soft, it seemed to boom through the tunnel, echoing loudly.

  “I can’t hear water running.”

  “You probably wouldn’t, with the amount of rock above us.”

  Right now, she didn’t need to be reminded about the weight above them. She swiped at a trickle of sweat and peered past his shoulder. Something glowed up ahead. “Is that light?”

  “Torchlight, by the way it’s flickering.” He squeezed her hand. “It opens up a little up ahead.”

  “Good.” She didn’t bother masking her relief. “Can you smell anything?”

  “Humans. Two of them.”

  Though his voice was flat, she could feel his excitement. “It might not be her, you know.”

  “I know.”

  But his pace increased regardless. The flickering glow grew until it shone warmly across the damp rocks and finally lifted the darkness. Ahead, the tunnel opened up into what looked like a wide cavern. Relief crawled through her.

  There was no one to be seen ahead. Nothing to be heard. But she could certainly smell someone. Or something.

  She pulled Ethan to a stop. “Zombies, dead ahead.”

  “How many?” His question was little more than a caress of air past her ear.

  “Two.” She hesitated, then frowned. “But there’s something else.”

  “What?”

  “I’m not sure.” She let go of his hand and stepped forward cautiously. Energy tingled across her skin, brief but powerful. She raised a hand. The farther she reached, the sharper the buzz, until it felt like it burned across her skin. Eventually it became a wall that resisted her efforts to push any farther. Tiny slivers of energy shot from her fingers, lightning sharp as they crawled up that unseen wall and faded away.

  “What the hell is that?”

  “Some form of magical barrier. I haven’t got the equipment with me to get past it right now.”

  She kept her hand against the barrier and moved from one side of the tunnel to the other. The barrier appeared to be oval in shape, bowing out into the tunnel from either edge.

  “Touch it with your fingertips,” she said. “Keep that contact so you know where it is, but don’t go any closer.”

  He nodded. The lightning that crawled away from his touch was sharper, more fiery. He hissed slightly. “Feels like I’m being eaten by ants.”

  “I think it would be a whole lot worse if you came into full contact with the thing.” She edged around to the right.

  “Can you see anything from your side?” he said.

  “A wall and another tunnel.” One that looked carved by nature rather than man. Or magic. />
  “I can see living dead men.” He hesitated, and a wave of emotion hit her, so strong it knocked her backward. “And Janie.” Anger, hope, and frustration combined in his voice and speared right through her heart. He really did love that little girl.

  “You sure?”

  His glance was sharp. “Yes. I can see her face. You’ve got to break this thing so we can get her out.”

  “I can’t—”

  “Damn it, she’s here. She’s alive, and I’m sure as hell not leaving without her!”

  “We have no choice, not right—”

  “I will not leave her!”

  “And if I try to break this barrier without the right tools, I’ll risk killing us all. Can’t you feel the power in this thing?”

  “It’s only magic, for God’s sake. How dangerous can it be?”

  She stared at him. “Have you learned nothing in the last few days?”

  “That’s my niece in there.” A stiffened finger stabbed the air, and the unseen barrier buzzed almost angrily as lightning flared away from his touch. “And if you won’t get her back, I will.”

  “Ethan, no!”

  He thrust at the wall, fists clenched as he tried to force his way through. Electricity swarmed around his wrists, locking him tight, then began crawling up his arms. He swore vehemently, tugging to get free as the slithers of lightning reached farther up his arms and began wrapping him in a web of energy.

  “See what happens when you don’t listen to me?” She swung off her pack and pulled out the slender chain of pure silver—the only metal immune to the effects of magic. It could also be deadly to shifters, but she’d been handling the stuff for so long now she’d developed a fairly strong immunity to it. Ethan, however, would not have the same advantage, so she’d have to be careful not to burn him.

  “Now is not the time for an I-told-you-so.” His teeth were clenched and sweat beaded his forehead. “Get me free of this damn thing. It feels like it’s sucking me dry.”

  What she should do was leave him there a few minutes, so he’d learn to pay magic a little more respect. “Since it was made by a creature who steals souls to survive, I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s exactly what it’s doing.”