Soulbound: A Lone Star Witch Novel

by Tessa Adams

  I start to argue on general principle but the fact is, the car is looking pretty damn good right about now. Especially when I know Declan and Ryder are about to come to blows.

  I should stay and listen to whatever they say—maybe it will help me figure things out. But the look on Declan’s face says that I don’t have a choice. Either I get to the car under my own power or I’ll get there under his. That kind of high-handedness would normally get him a knee in the groin, but I’m beat right now. The emotion and adrenaline from earlier is crashing down around me and all I really want is to get someplace safe. Someplace where I can’t feel the violent lash of the wind against my skin or see the hurt in Ryder’s gaze.

  The irony of Declan being my safe place is not lost on me as I turn and trudge to the car. The ground is still wet, a sign that he’s even more upset than I thought. Or conserving his magic for something more important. Like a battle with Ryder.

  The thought makes my stomach hurt. I’ve lived with magic my whole life, but I’ve never been comfortable with that aspect of it. I glance over my shoulder as I climb into the car. Though I can’t hear what they’re saying, it’s obvious that the two of them are arguing. Declan’s back is to me, but the air around him crackles with his rage. Ryder’s holding his ground, but his face is pale and his hands are raised in the universal sign for surrender.

  The wind picks up—ice-cold and ominous—and I have to wrestle against it to get the car door closed. I’m still catching my breath when the driver’s-side door flies open and Declan slides smoothly behind the wheel. The already frigid temperature plummets inside the car.

  “Did he hurt you?” he demands as he jams the key in the ignition.

  “No. He didn’t touch me.”

  “But he upset you.” He turns to me, brushes a stray lock of hair out of my eyes. “I felt it the second I got out of the car.”

  “I think it was the place more than Ryder. I was already freaking out, feeling like something sinister was closing in on me, and then there he was, dripping blood.” I flush, embarrassed by my earlier fear now that I’m safely ensconced in Declan’s car. “I’m not used to blood sorcery and I overreacted.”

  He studies me. “Are you sure that’s all it was?”

  Can’t he see that I’m not sure of anything? I haven’t felt this insecure since my nineteenth birthday and I’m really not enjoying it any more the second time around. Banishing the confusion—or at least locking it away in the back corner of my mind—I nod. “I’m fine.”

  He relaxes at my reassurance, the car temperature warming just enough to defrost my fingertips. “I’m glad.” He cups my face in his hand, runs his thumb gently over my lips. “I don’t like it when you’re upset.”

  The heat ratchets up another twenty notches, until frostbite is the last thing on my mind. The irony of his words isn’t lost on me, considering the fact that I’m usually at my most upset around him, because of him. But right now that doesn’t seem to matter. Nothing does, not when he’s touching me like I’m fragile. Like I’m somehow precious to him.

  I don’t know what makes me do it, but I part my lips and nip sharply at his thumb.

  His eyes darken, his fingers sliding around the back of my head to tangle in my hair. He tugs a little, urges my face closer to his and I know he’s going to kiss me. More, I welcome his kiss despite all the mixed-up emotions pinging around inside of me. Or maybe because of them. I don’t know. All I know is that I want Declan’s mouth on mine more than I’ve wanted anything in a very long time.

  I lean toward him, my eyes closing of their own volition. But the sound of a car door slamming close by yanks me out of my reverie. Tires squeal and I look up just in time to see Ryder burn rubber down the street. His obvious distress makes me feel terrible.

  “I’m really sorry,” I tell Declan. “I didn’t mean to cause trouble between you and Ryder.”

  He studies me for long seconds without answering, his eyes cataloging every inch of my face. And when he finally does speak, his voice is low and smoky with unmistakable desire. “We’ve gone around before and we’ll go around again. It’s you I’m worried about.”

  I feel a tug deep inside of myself, an invisible thread pulling Declan and me closer and closer with each second that passes. Not just physically, but mentally and emotionally as well.

  Is this what it means to be soulbound? I wonder a little frantically. This overwhelming compulsion to press myself against Declan until I’m all but inside him? Until he’s inside me? Until we’re both so wrapped up in each other that nothing else matters? Maybe then this emptiness inside me will be filled, the loneliness gone forever.

  The thought frightens me, has me pulling away to stare out the window. Declan makes a frustrated sound deep in his throat, but I don’t let myself care. I can’t afford to, not when everything in my life is this mixed up. The murders, the compulsion, my magic, my response to Declan. How much of what I’m feeling is because of him and me and how much of it is because we’re soulbound?

  I don’t know the answer, and until I do, I can’t afford to let anything happen between us. Eight years ago I fell for him hard and ended up with nothing but a broken heart to show for it. I’m older and wiser now, or so I like to think. I won’t make that mistake a second time.

  Declan must be able to read my changing mood, because he swears bitterly under his breath before starting the car engine. Seconds later, we’re slipping into traffic, cruising toward my house.

  I don’t say anything else, and neither does he. At least not until we’re turning the corner onto my street, and when he finally does speak, his voice is so low that I have to strain to hear it. “I would never have done it.”

  “Done what?” I ask, mystified. Is he talking about the murders?

  “Hurt you. I know I said I’d planned to kill you, but even before I saw you, I knew I wasn’t going to go through with it.” He pulls to the curb in front of my house, but doesn’t turn to look at me. Instead, he stares straight ahead, his jaw working furiously. “From the moment I knew you existed, I searched for you. I told myself it was to do what had to be done, but even then I knew.

  “I could feel you—all that warmth and compassion and determination to succeed—deep inside me and I knew I would never be able to harm you.”

  “Even though I might end up destroying you?”

  “What do you know of destruction?”

  I think of all those hours, months, years up in my room, practicing magic. Trying to be someone my mother would be proud of and losing a little more of myself every time it didn’t work.

  Declan doesn’t need to know that, though. No one does. Besides, I know evasion when I see it and I’m not about to let him get away with it. Not this time.

  “I know we’re soulbound,” I tell him, laying my cards on the table.

  He does turn his head then, his obsidian eyes blazing into mine. “Where did you hear that term?”

  “That doesn’t matter—”

  “Tell me, Xandra.” He looms over me wearing his darkest warlock face, but I refuse to be intimidated. It’s been eight years since we first met and I barely know any more about our situation now than I did then. When I was nineteen, my ignorance wasn’t my fault. Now, if I continue to keep my mouth shut, continue to live without answers, it most certainly will be.

  With that in mind, I lift my chin, keeping my eyes locked with his. “You know a hell of a lot more about it than I do, so why don’t you tell me?”

  For long seconds, he doesn’t answer—so long that I begin to think that he won’t answer. But then he surprises me by saying, “The truth is, I should have told your parents about it as soon as I’d found you. I didn’t because…”

  He has trouble finishing, so I do it for him. “Because you didn’t want them to be prepared when you came to take care of the problem.”

  He glares at me. “No offense, Xandra, but the warlock I was then wouldn’t have been afraid of what your parents could do to me.”

&
nbsp; “You were really that powerful?”

  He lifts an eyebrow, looks impossibly arrogant and appealing. “I’m still that powerful. But back then, I was untouchable. That’s what started the whole mess to begin with. It had nothing to do with you or your family and everything to do with me.”

  “Why? What did you do the Council that pissed them off so much?”

  “I didn’t listen to them, refused to let them control me. They didn’t like that, especially considering the magic I commanded.”

  “So they cursed you?”

  “They bound me, and my powers, to one of the few Hekan families that would have a chance against me.”

  “But you just said they wouldn’t have stood a chance.”

  “The Council didn’t know that.” His smile flashes, as wild and wicked as I’ve ever seen it. “For all we know, they could have been right. Your family might not have been able to destroy me, but you’re a different story.”

  “Because we’re soulbound.”

  “No. Because of you, and the power you wield.”

  I start to give him my same old tired spiel—the one I’ve spouted to my mother for nearly a decade—but I stop before any of it leaves my mouth. Because it isn’t true, not anymore. My power may be unconventional, and untrained, but it exists. Even now, I can feel it seething right under my skin, waiting for another chance to strike.

  Still, what he’s suggesting is absurd. “There’s no way I can destroy you.”

  “You don’t think so?”

  “Please. I can’t do one-twentieth of what you can do.”

  “Magic tricks aren’t everything, you know.”

  I snort, refusing to buy what he’s selling. “I wouldn’t exactly call what you do magic tricks.”

  “I stand on a stage and perform for an audience. What would you call it?” He sounds self-deprecating, but he’s watching me closely and I know my answer means more to him than he’s letting on.

  “Amazing. I’ve never seen anything like your show the other night.”

  “Really?”

  I roll my eyes. “Stop fishing for compliments. You just finished telling me how powerful you are, which means you know exactly how astonishing your magic is. Besides, it’s obvious how much you enjoy what you do.”

  When he doesn’t respond, I ask, “What did I say wrong this time?”

  “Nothing. I just never thought of it that way—as something I enjoy.”

  Now I’m confused. “Why else would you do it, then? You can do anything.”

  He ducks his head, and for the first time since I’ve known him, Declan’s cheeks are pink—like he’s blushing. Then he admits, “If you want the truth, it started as a kind of fuck you to the ACW. You want to take my powers, you want me to keep my magic hidden? Screw you, look what I can do.”

  “And now?”

  He shrugs. “I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it in years. It’s just something I do because…”

  “Because you like it. You like sharing your magic—”

  “I don’t share my magic. With anyone.” The darkness is back, causing a shiver to work its way up my spine.

  Despite my fear—or maybe because of it—my tongue is firmly in my cheek when I say, “Except for me, you mean.”

  His teeth grind together, but there’s a light in his eyes that tells me he’s not as upset by the prospect as he lets on. “Except for you.”

  The lamp on my front porch flickers on and I can see Lily standing there, watching me anxiously. It won’t be long before she’s storming the car, ripping me out of Declan’s “evil” clutches. And I find I’m not quite ready to say good-bye yet. Not when I’m getting glimpses of a Declan I’ve never seen before.

  “You want to come in?” I ask impulsively.

  He raises a brow. “Come in?”

  “For dinner. I’m not sure what we’ve got, but I’m certain I can whip something up fairly quickly.”

  Now both brows are up. “You’re going to make me dinner?”

  “Well, not if you look at me like that, I’m not. I have been to culinary school, you know. I won’t poison you.”

  His flush deepens. “That’s not what I meant.”

  Exasperated, I start to ask what he did mean when it occurs to me that Declan might not have had anyone make him dinner in a long, long time. I try to discount the thought—after all, he’s rich, handsome, charismatic, powerful. Everywhere he goes women stand in line for a chance to get to him. And yet, there’s a loneliness about him, a solitary vibe that tells me he rarely lets anyone get as close as I’ve gotten these last couple of days. Which makes the way he defended me against Ryder—his brother and best friend—even more significant.

  Suddenly, I’m a little shaky myself. I’m also completely resolved to getting Declan to stay for dinner. After everything he’s done to keep me safe these last couple of days, a home-cooked meal is the least I can do.

  Climbing out of the car, I head around to the driver’s side and open Declan’s door as well. Then I tug him out of the low-slung automobile and up the walkway to my house. “Come on,” I urge as he puts up what feels like a token protest. “I have a couple of great bottles of wine I’ve been saving. We’ll pop them open, cook something delicious and pretend this whole nightmare is behind us. At least for tonight.”

  Declan slips an arm around my waist, pulls me close. And I know that, at least for a little while, everything is going to be all right.

  That is until I look back toward my front door and realize Lily’s no longer standing there. Donovan is. And he doesn’t look happy.

  Twenty-three

  Beside me, Declan stiffens. His arm tightens around my waist, but I’m not sure if he’s doing it because he thinks he needs to protect me or if he’s staking some kind of claim. To be honest, neither motive impresses me. I start to shrug him off, then stop because I’m afraid it will be the excuse Donovan needs to pounce. And the last thing I need right now is a throw-down on my front walkway—especially between two of the most powerful beings I know.

  “Let go,” I hiss at Declan as we approach the steps. He does—after several excruciating seconds—but he doesn’t look happy about it. Not that I care, as I’m more than a little pissed at this point myself.

  I take the stairs two at a time, start to brush by Donovan. But he grabs my arm before I’m halfway through the door, anchoring me in place. “Where the hell have you been?” he demands. “Lily and I have been worried sick about you.”

  Behind me, I feel Declan shift menacingly, and I hold out a hand to him in the universal stop gesture. I don’t need him to fight my battles for me and the sooner he gets that through his thick head, the better off we’ll all be.

  Surprisingly, it works. Declan doesn’t move, though I can feel his power seething in the air around us. It’s more than a match for the angry magic pouring off Donovan.

  “I was down by the lake, checking out the crime scene again. Declan was doing the same thing and he offered me a ride home.” It’s not quite the whole story, but enough of it’s there that Donovan shouldn’t be able to sense an untruth. “If you were worried, why didn’t you scry my location?”

  “I tried,” he answers. “I couldn’t get a lock on you. It was like something, or someone, was deliberately hiding you.” He glares at Declan as he says the last and it’s obvious who he blames for the spell’s failure. Declan just shrugs, keeps his face blank. But I can feel the tension rolling off him. He isn’t taking Donovan’s revelation any better than my brother had. Of course, Donovan’s too tied up in his own distrust and anger to realize that Declan’s no threat to me. At least for now.

  I try to slip past Donovan a second time and once again, he blocks me. Annoyed now, I get in his face. “This is my house. I’d like to come in.”

  “And you’re my sister. I’d like to know you’re safe.”

  We stand there, nose to nose, for long seconds until Lily finally breaks it up. “The delivery guy from Z’Tejas just pulled up. Unless yo
u want him to call 911, I’d suggest the two of you back the hell off each other.”

  Though the words, and the tone she delivers them in, are casual, there’s a look in her eyes that says enough is enough. Suddenly, it’s like a clean breeze invades my consciousness, driving out the anger and aggression and letting me see myself, tensed up and braced for a fight with my beloved brother.

  This isn’t me. I’m no pushover by any means, but all this crackling aggression without purpose is so not my style. Nor is it Donovan’s really. The worry is obviously getting to us.

  I take a deep breath, step back. Lay a gentle hand on Donovan’s arm. “I’m sorry I didn’t call. The last thing I want to do is worry you.”

  He blows out a long breath, then pulls me in for a quick hug just as the delivery guy makes it onto the porch. He’s carrying two big bags and the smell emanating from them is amazing. I reach for my wallet, but Declan already has his money out.

  “I invited you to dinner,” I tell him. “I’ve got this.”

  He hands the money over—two hundred dollar bills, which is obviously too much for our order—then takes the bags. “Too late,” he tells me, heading for the kitchen without a backward glance.

  “I don’t like him here,” Donovan hisses at me as we watch his back.

  “Well, I do. So get over it.”

  Dinner can only be described as a tense affair, what with Donovan glaring at Declan, me glaring at Donovan and Lily glaring at me. My roommate hates tension in our home and right now, the air around us is so taut that I think a deep breath might shatter it.

  The only one who seems unaffected by it all is Declan, who eats his steak and drinks his red wine while grinning across the table at me—like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Like he isn’t the main focus of a police investigation determined to run him to ground.