Shadow Bound (Unbound)

by Rachel Vincent

  But when I replayed everything she’d said, I realized there was more than that. She wasn’t afraid of me. She was afraid for me. Afraid that being with her would put me in danger. And because that wasn’t a logical fear, she couldn’t be reasoned out of it. So I didn’t even try. Instead, I sat at the other end of the short hall, leaning with my back against the wall, my legs stretched out in front of me. And I talked to her.

  “There are things I wish I could tell you,” I said, and she glanced up, a cautious arch of curiosity in her eyebrows.

  “There are things I wish I could hear. But it’s probably better if we don’t even start down that road.”

  I nodded reluctantly, and for several more minutes, we sat in silence. Then I tried again. “Do you remember much about your parents?” I didn’t think she’d answer, so when she started to speak, it took every bit of self-control I possessed to keep from cheering over my minor success.

  “Mostly my mom. My dad was gone a lot.”

  “Was your mom a Traveler like you?”

  She exhaled in a small huff, like there was some humor in my question. “She was a Traveler, but not like me. She only walked the shadows in emergencies, and I only know that because my grandmother told me. My parents were totally paranoid about exposing us as Skilled. I didn’t even know I could travel until after they died. One day I got in trouble for using the ground beef my grandmother thawed out for dinner as viscera for my brother’s army men when I blew them up.”

  “You blew them up?” I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cringe.

  Kori shrugged. “With Black Cats. They’re more noise than anything, and Kris didn’t care. My grandmother was pissed, though. She grounded me, and I stomped into my room, thinking about how I’d rather be with my mom and dad, and the next thing I knew, I was in the cemetery, three feet from their graves. Twelve miles from home.”

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah. But the real bitch was that I didn’t know how I’d gotten there, so I didn’t know how to get back. And that was way before I had a cell phone. I had to walk a mile and a half to a pay phone and call my grandmother collect. I thought she’d be pissed, but she looked kind of relieved. I guess because she didn’t have to keep the secret anymore. And maybe because I didn’t get my dad’s Skill instead.”

  “What was his Skill?”

  “He was a Silencer. I think she was afraid I’d suck all the sound out of a room when I got mad and nothing pissed my grandmother off worse than not being heard.”

  I laughed, and she relaxed a little more.

  “What about your parents?” Kori asked. Then she frowned and seemed to reconsider. “Not their Skills. Don’t tell me anything Jake could use. Just…what were they like?”

  I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the wall, remembering. “They were good parents. More in love with me and my brother than with each other, but they held it together. My dad died when I was in college, and my mom followed him five years ago.”

  “I’m sorry.” Kori pulled her foot out of the bedroom and folded it beneath her, and I took that as a good sign. Like she was literally stepping out of the darkness. To be with me.

  “I want to tell you something,” I said, trying to hold her gaze in the shadows. Kori had trusted me with everything she had, and I owed her something in return. Something real and personal. Something that meant as much to me as the things she’d told me about herself.

  “Maybe you shouldn’t.”

  “You’re probably right. But I’m going to say it anyway, and it would mean a lot to me if you’d listen.”

  “Okay.” She turned to face me, giving me her full attention, though she still sat inches from the bedroom and the dark escape it represented.

  “My brother’s still alive.”

  “Steven?” Kori whispered, and I frowned. Then I realized his first and last names were public record, and of course Tower had done his research. “But he was killed in action. I saw the obituary. There was a funeral.”

  “It was a memorial,” I said, trying not to outright lie to her, even as I let her believe her own misassumptions. Because this one truth was all I could give her at the moment, and I shouldn’t even have done that. “Because there was no body. Because he didn’t really die.”

  “He faked his death?” she said, and I was grateful that she didn’t really expect an answer to that. “Why would he do that?”

  “To avoid this,” I said, spreading my arms to indicate not the suite around us, but interest from the organization that had paid for it. “We knew from the time our Skills manifested that they’d attract the wrong kind of attention from the wrong kind of people. Our mom was paranoid, but she was right about that.”

  “So he thought it’d be easier to fake his own death than to avoid notice from the syndicates?”

  I scooted closer, praying she wouldn’t back away from me. “Faking death was to avoid notice from the syndicates.”

  “So, that picture of him with Meghan? That’s not really seven years old?”

  “Probably not,” I admitted, and it felt good to voice even that little bit of truth.

  “What’s his skill?”

  “I can’t tell you that. I shouldn’t have even told you he’s alive—that wasn’t really mine to tell—but you’ve told me so much…”

  “You don’t owe me anything, Ian. And I won’t tell Jake about your brother. Even if he asks.” I started to object, but she spoke over me. “If he wants me to suffer, I’ll suffer. The question I refuse to answer is irrelevant.”

  I stared at her, awed by her strength and determination. She’d done time in a hell I could only imagine, and come out intact. “I feel sorry for all the people who will die without ever meeting you, Kori. But the selfish part of me is happy, because I don’t even want to share you with the people you already know. Most of them don’t deserve you.”

  Tears shone in her eyes, and my heart cracked within my chest. “You okay?” I asked, aching to move close enough to touch her. “I didn’t mean to make it worse.”

  “You didn’t. I just… I need you to understand that whatever this is between us, it can’t last once you’re bound. I think we need to keep that in mind.” The words came out slowly, like she wanted to pull them back in before they’d even fallen.

  “Why can’t it last?” I scooted closer across the floor, and she didn’t back up. “Jake can’t take this away, Kori,” I said, scooting another foot closer to her, wishing I could explain that I wasn’t going to be bound to Tower, and soon neither would she. He would have no power over us.

  “He’ll try. He’ll renege on the apartment, and the car, and he’ll take back any privileges he offers, unless you get them down in writing. I wouldn’t blame you for bailing.”

  “I don’t care about any of that. And I’m not bailing.”

  “He’ll throw women at you. Beautiful women. Women who wear nice dresses, and drink champagne, and don’t cuss.”

  “I don’t want those women. I want you.”

  Kori shook her head slowly. “You don’t even know me.”

  “I know enough to know I want to know more. I know I want to kill everyone who had anything to do with whatever happened in that fucking basement.”

  She sucked in a deep breath, and the next few came quicker, like she couldn’t get enough air. “I don’t need a knight, Ian. I can fight for myself.”

  I nodded. “And everyone else around you. I know. That doesn’t mean I don’t want to help.”

  Kori glanced at the floor and spoke while she picked at the hem of her jeans. “I don’t…I don’t know how to do this. I’ve never really done the relationship thing, unless you count a few three- or four-night-stands.”

  “The only thing you learn from any relationship is how to be in that specific relationship. So even if you’d been married a dozen times, this would still be new. It’s new for me, too. It’s supposed to be.”

  She looked up then and met my gaze. “I’m kind of a wreck right now, and I can’t
promise that’ll get any better.”

  “We’re all messed up, Kori. We all have secrets. We all have problems. Part of the process is figuring those things out. One at a time.”

  “What if I scare you off?”

  I scooted closer, and we were only two feet apart now. “You couldn’t possibly. I know what I want.” I leaned forward and hooked one hand behind each of her calves, where her legs were bent at the knee. When she didn’t object, I pulled her closer, until our knees were touching. “I want you. I want only you. I want all of you. But I’ll take whatever you’re ready to give.”

  Twenty-Two

  Kori

  Ian kissed me, and I kissed him back. I couldn’t get enough of him and how good he felt. How eager, but…safe.

  Kissing was fine. Kissing was good. There was no kissing in the basement, and kissing Ian made me feel like I was fifteen all over again, and just discovering the art. Innocence and adventure. Power, because he wanted to kiss me, but I could pull away and he’d still want me, but he’d let me go.

  Kissing Ian was like starting all over. Clean slate. No memories. No past. Just…us.

  When I finally pulled back, desperate for both air and perspective, I couldn’t hold back a groan. “You’re playing dirty,” I moaned, letting my forehead fall against his shoulder.

  He laughed, his face pressed into my neck, and his words seemed to melt right into my skin. “Not yet. But I’m open to that.”

  “I mean you and your words. You always know exactly what to say.” That he wanted me. That he’d take what I was willing to give. “Does that silver tongue work on most women?”

  Ian leaned back so I could see his eyes. Or maybe so he could see mine. “I’m not feeding you lines, Kori. If I were I’d have told you how hot you are and how badly I want you. Both of which are true. But neither of which are how I want to start this.”

  This.

  This is a mistake. Alarm bells were going off in my head. I knew better than this. This was going to get us both hurt, and not just emotionally. But for the first time in my life, the risk felt worth it.

  “So, how do you want to start this?” I couldn’t believe the words, even as they came from my own mouth.

  “I want you, and not as a signing bonus. I want to be with you. I want to fall asleep touching you, and I want to see you first thing in the morning. I want you to answer the phone and smile when you hear my voice. I want to be the only one you ever look at like you’re looking at me now. That’s what I want. What do you want?”

  “I want…I want to try it. No promises and no hard feelings if either of us changes our mind,” I said, and though he nodded immediately, I couldn’t help wondering if he would have agreed to anything right then, just to make me happy.

  Then I realized it didn’t matter. If he was that determined to make me happy, who was I to complain?

  I kissed him again. Then I kissed him some more. And somehow, we made it from the floor to the leather couch, where he let my hands explore hard planes of muscle through the soft cotton of his shirt. My mouth trailed over the rough stubble on his chin and down his neck.

  Ian groaned, and his hand glided over my hip. He felt so good. Sooo good. But then his fingers slid beneath the hem of my top, and—

  “Wait…” I sat up, pushing him away, and after less than a second, the confusion in his eyes gave way to caution and understanding too raw for me to look at. I didn’t want his sympathy. I didn’t need to be coddled like a baby or seduced like a virgin.

  I needed…time. Just a little more time.

  “I’m hungry. Let’s get some food.”

  “You okay? Is this too much?” That look—pity—lingered on the edge of his understanding smile, and I couldn’t stand it.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” I snapped, and I could hear the anger in my voice, but I couldn’t control it. “I’m not fucking broken. I’m just hungry.”

  But that was a lie. I was broken, and there was no bandage in the world big enough to fix me.

  “I’m sorry. I was just trying not to—”

  “It’s fine,” I said, purging the anger from my voice with a staggering effort. “I really am hungry. I was going to take you to this awesome steak house in the south fork, but after what happened in the park this morning, we probably shouldn’t leave the west side. There’s a place a couple of miles away that’s not too bad…?”

  “Let’s bring the food back. I don’t feel like sharing you with a restaurant full of people.”

  I called in our order and gave the restaurant Jake’s credit card number, and since our food wouldn’t be ready for twenty minutes, we decided to walk. It was a beautiful night, cool for early summer, and the cloud cover had lifted, so if we’d been anywhere but the middle of the city, we could have seen the stars. Not that I knew what any of them were. But suddenly I missed the suburban sky view I’d grown up with, because as I walked next to Ian on the sidewalk, I realized I hated the city.

  But that wasn’t quite right. It wasn’t the city itself I hated. It was how much of Jake Tower I found represented on the west side, everywhere I looked. His sentries stood on most corners of the main drag. He owned several apartment buildings and businesses. And everywhere I turned I found another arm bared to show tattooed chain links.

  They all knew me, even the ones I couldn’t have named for my life, because for years, I’d been at Jake’s side, responsible for his safety and elevated by the job. And they all knew those days were over.

  I could feel them staring. A few looked sympathetic—no one wanted to be on Jake’s shit list—and that was almost worse than those who gloated, pleased by my fall.

  Ian could tell I was tense, and he tried to distract me with small talk, but I couldn’t relax, and being with him made that even harder. I wanted to touch him, but I was hyperaware that anything we were seen doing would be reported to Jake, who would either understand that we’d excised him from our relationship—which would piss him off—or misinterpret the reports as me seducing Ian on his behalf. Which would piss me off.

  Finally the restaurant appeared in front of us. Inside, we had to wait for several minutes before the hostess handed me a receipt to sign, then exchanged it for a thick paper bag with twisted twine handles and an embossed logo. I resisted the urge to stick my head inside the bag and inhale the scent of beef grilled with onions.

  Ian looked like he wanted to do the same thing.

  Outside again, we headed for the alley behind the restaurant, intending to return to the apartment through the shadows so the food wouldn’t get cold. But the minute I stepped into the alley I knew something was wrong.

  I stopped, one hand clenching the bag handle, the other groping at my waist for a gun I wasn’t yet allowed to carry. I reached for Ian’s arm to warn him silently, but before I could, someone grabbed me from behind and hauled me away from him, nearly jerking me off my feet.

  I grunted in surprise, and Ian spun toward us, but before he could reach for me, someone stepped between us, gun—plus silencer—pointed at the ground, but ready to take aim at either of us in an instant.

  Cam.

  I dropped the food bag and started to twist away from the hands holding me, but before I could, my right arm was released and something cold and sharp was pressed against my throat, just beneath my jaw.

  Shit. Another alley and another knife fight. A blade at my throat could spill my blood and sever my vocal cords in one stroke—a silent death, in the middle of my own territory.