by May Dawson
“Unsatisfying.” It was the first thing that came to mind, and once I said it, I knew it was true.
“Maybe I won’t be too jealous then.”
Shit. I’d been so selfish, once again. I hadn’t even though about all the dead in Tristan’s past. “Do you wish you could see them again?”
“Not like this,” he said, and his voice was a warning that anything Truby touched might be a lie.
My lips pursed in irritation.
“What?” he asked, frustration in his voice. He raked his hand through his hair. When he spoke again, his voice was softer. “Sorry. I just hate this whole situation.”
“Me too.” At least we could agree on that. I blew out my own slow breath. “He said we could have our privacy. I wish I believed that. I wish we could just say whatever and not worry he’s eavesdropping…”
My voice sharpened, as I worried he was listening right now.
“Me too,” Tristan said.
He tucked a wayward strand of hair behind my ear, and his fingers lingered against my cheek. I turned my face into his hand before I even realized what I was doing, seeking more of him.
When I shivered as the cold air seeped through my shirt, he wrapped me in his arms, hugging me against his hard chest. His warmth and the musky, pleasant scent of his body enveloped me.
The two of us couldn’t speak out loud.
But I wanted to trust the way this felt.
I rested my head against his chest. “We’ll see what Truby’s friends have to say about my past.”
He froze, not even breathing in for a second, then exhaled. “Be careful.”
“I’m always careful,” I said.
“For sure. That’s why Nix calls you Deathwish.”
I leaned into his arms, warmed by his teasing as much as by his body.
“If Truby can help you unlock your power…” he began.
The thought made tension worm through my chest. I wanted to master my magic so badly. But what would having Truby teach me cost?
“How long would that take?” I asked lightly. “I don’t want to stay with Daddy forever.”
Tristan would know what I meant. The Hunters expected results, sooner rather than later. If I disappeared for too long—if I disappeared for a year—they would think I was a traitor. There’d be no going back.
If Tristan were with me, they’d think he was a traitor too.
That was assuming Nix and Cade weren’t able to follow us. If they had, then sooner or later the Hunters would descend.
“Convince him,” Tristan said. “Get him to teach you.”
“Easy.” I pursed my lips.
“You can be very convincing,” Tristan said, his voice playful. “Or maybe I’m just a sucker for you, I don’t know.”
“That would explain why you’re here,” I said.
Maybe he shouldn’t be here. He was in danger, and I didn’t think Truby would hurt me. He seemed to genuinely long for an heir.
And I genuinely longed for a father…
I tried to shake off the thought.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“Where’s my father?” I demanded of the witch I passed when I walked into the house.
I felt Tristan pause beside me before he went on, as if he was surprised by my imperious tone. I was just trying to play the role.
Or maybe he was surprised I’d started calling Truby my father. I wasn’t even sure when I’d started saying that.
“In his study.”
“Thank you,” I said, my tone still clipped. I looked to Tristan. “Meet you in the sun room in a few minutes?”
His mouth tightened—he didn’t like to separate—then he nodded. “All right.”
“Take me there,” I told the witch. I didn’t know my way around this house yet.
She hesitated, then nodded. She was in her early twenties, her dark hair drawn back severely from a pretty face, as if she were trying to make herself look more witchy when she looked as if she should be a college student.
Tristan watched as I walked with her down the hall, standing there with worry written across his handsome face. I squared my shoulders and pretended I didn’t see him watching him over me as I walked away.
“How did you end up here?” I asked her. I was genuinely curious. What made someone commit to a coven like this? I’d learned from Liam that joining a coven was a life-long commitment. Anyone who left didn’t live long.
She hesitated. “I guess I can show you what Truby did for me.”
What Truby did for her? My skin crawled as she stopped, and the two of us faced each other.
She stared at me, almost in challenge. Her face was really lovely; wide amber eyes, a long upturned nose, chiseled cheekbones, rosebud lips. She could be an actress or a model.
She touched her hairline as she muttered the words of a spell, so that her wrist blocked her face. Her fingertips raced down the curve of her cheekbones to her chin.
The girl who looked back at me now was completely different. Her face was melted and damaged, her skin pitted. One eye was sunken and closed.
I swallowed the sudden rise of bile in the back of my throat, hating myself for reacting that way.
“Acid attack,” she said, her tone clipped, as if she knew how I felt. “I wasn’t allowed to move on, apparently. We’ll see if anyone wants you when you aren’t pretty anymore. I was outside my house, coming home on a summer night—when he said that, I tried to run, but I was too late. He had concentrated sulfuric acid.”
I gasped. “I’m sorry.”
She shrugged. “No surprise. Every evil asshole has the internet these days.”
“So magic let you…”
She rippled her hand over her face, muttering another word in Latin, and her face was perfect again. “He took my purse so I couldn’t dial 9-1-1 or get into my house. By the time I was able to get any help, the acid had partially dissolved some of the bone in my face. I could’ve had dozens more reconstructive surgeries—or I could have magic.”
“So you made a bargain with Truby.”
She looked at me as if I was stupid. “I didn’t make a bargain. He saved me.”
“So you don’t have to stay here?” I demanded.
“I don’t know what they told you about him,” she said, her voice softening. “But I want to be here.”
She started down the hallway again.
Truby and his coven had killed over a dozen Hunters. No matter how much her story wrenched my heart, I couldn’t trust it—or them. Not if they were hurting people. “Do you hate the Hunters?”
“You’re not one of them.” She didn’t look back.
“That’s not what I asked.”
She turned back to me, crossing her arms over her chest. “If the Hunters had their way, there would be no witches. No magic. I don’t know that I hate them. I hate what they’re trying to do.”
I stared back at her, her words crashing over me.
“I wish I were you,” she said suddenly, as if she couldn’t hold her words back, but then paused. She frowned as she stared at me, as if she was perplexed. “I wish I had that kind of power. I wish I had…him.”
The hero worship in her voice jolted me. She adored Truby.
I didn’t know what to tell her. I stared back at her, unable to answer.
She gestured toward the door to her side and made a small mocking bow. “Here you are.”
“Thank you.”
I was so shaken, I had to get out of the hall. I pushed open the door and walked into my father’s study without knocking.
Truby stood in front of the fireplace, and I felt suddenly as if I was back in Malcolm’s office; there was a faint scent of wood smoke and leather and old books in the air, and a sudden wave of nostalgia washed over me.
He had a crystal tumbler in his hand full of amber liquid, and his brows arched as the sight of me. There was a man and a woman with him, both beautiful in the quick glimpse I caught of them, with perfect shining hair and elegant clothes
.
I closed the door behind me. “Sorry to interrupt.”
“You’re always welcome, Deidra, but it would be nice if you knocked.” Truby raised his hand, beckoning me over. The apologetic smile he flashed at our guests said, teenagers? What can you do?
I came to him, but stopped short of where he could reach out and touch me.
He didn’t seem to notice, or care. “Deidra, I’d like you to meet old friends of mine—Corson and Briar.”
“Hi,” I said. Corson, the man, held his hand out to me. When I shook his hand, the scent of his cologne washed over me, pungent and strong. The amount of cologne he wore didn’t seem to match his tailored suit.
His bright green eyes were striking, shining out of a face so chiseled and perfect he looked almost inhuman. I almost couldn’t tear my gaze from his face. Truby and I both had unusual emerald green eyes—he said it was our witch’s blood—but Corson’s looked just like ours. Was he a relative too?
“It’s nice to meet you, Deidra.” Briar touched my shoulder, and I jerked my gaze to hers as if she’d broken the spell spun by Corson’s beauty. Briar was lovely too, her blond hair curling over her slight shoulders and falling past her waist. She looked like a princess out of a storybook, even though she wore a simple dark dress and nude heels.
While Briar and I had exchanged pleasantries, Truby went to the bar and poured another drink. He came over to me with a crystal glass like his, full of amber liquid, and offered it to me.
I quirked an eyebrow as I took it from him. I’d eaten his food at breakfast, but I wasn’t inclined to start taking alcoholic beverages from this man.
“Why did you burst in here?” Truby asked, ignoring my lack of gratitude at his offering. “Is everything all right?”
He sounded so unruffled.
“I wanted to ask you something,” I said.
“And what is that?”
I glanced at Corson and Briar. Corson sipped slowly from his glass, his posture relaxed, but I had the feeling he was listening intently. Briar gazed at me with undisguised curiosity in her crystal blue eyes.
Whatever. What I had to say was no big secret.
“I know you have some misgivings,” I said, “but I wanted to ask you to help me remove any bindings on my magic.”
“Ah.” Truby smiled faintly. To Corson, he said, “I’m concerned she’ll use her magic to murder me.”
“Understandable.” Corson took another sip. “But if you two are going to have a father-daughter relationship, perhaps you should begin by…and here is a revolutionary thought…acting as if you are her father.”
Truby pulled a face. “That’s easy to say when you aren’t in the number-one spot on her hit list.”
Corson glanced toward me, but didn’t quite meet my gaze, staring somewhere over my head. “Is it your hit list right now, Deidra? Or is it those Hunters’ list?”
“I don’t plan to murder him today,” I said lightly.
Even if I had the opportunity, I wanted to know more about Truby…and about my sister.
Corson lifted his glass toward Truby like a toast. “There you are. She doesn’t want to murder you today.”
Truby heaved a sigh. “If she did murder me, you’d probably stand by and find it amusing. You’re not much comfort.”
“Probably,” Corson admitted, flashing me a dizzying smile even though he still stared toward me without focusing his eyes on my face.
Truby seemed to wage an internal war. I crossed my arms, finding it exasperating to have to wait on this man to agree to help me or not. I didn’t trust Truby or his friends, but Truby’s resistance triggered the most stubborn part of my soul. And my soul was pretty stubborn to begin with.
“Corson can help you,” Truby said finally. “He’s a talented magician.”
Briar touched my shoulder, giving me a delighted smile. Her smile was so bright and infectious, it was hard for me not to smile back.
“Once this is done, remember who bound you, and who trusted your power and wisdom,” Truby said, then muttered, “despite your unwillingness to follow basic etiquette.”
“She’ll be wonderful,” Briar told him, her voice warm and certain.
“Briar is an excellent judge of character,” Corson told me. He took a few steps backward, until his legs bumped the leather couch by the fireplace, then raised a crooked finger to beckon me over.
“Which begs the question why she’s with you,” Truby said lightly.
Corson didn’t seem offended. “Indeed.”
I took a few steps toward Corson, and he swept his arm toward the couch. “Lay down. I’m not sure how they bound your magic, and the process may be…uncomfortable.”
“Fantastic.” I sat on the edge of the leather couch. The leather felt buttery soft against my fingers, but I paused, unwilling to lie down and make myself vulnerable.
“I can hold your hand if you like,” Briar offered, hovering behind the couch.
I flashed her a tight smile but didn’t answer.
“She doesn’t know you yet, Briar,” Corson said gently, as if he didn’t want to hurt her feelings. There was something a little bit off about Briar, but sweet, and the kind way Corson talked to her made me like him more.
Corson crouched in front of me. “If you’re more comfortable this way, we’ll manage. I’m going to touch your face, all right?”
I nodded.
Corson gazed into my eyes as he took my face in his hands. His thumbs brushed gently under my eyes as his fingers curled around the shape of my jaw. Having someone touch me so intimately made my heart beat faster, but when I looked into his kind green eyes, some of my tension faded.
How did Truby come to know these two?
“How old were you when you were bound?” he murmured.
I didn’t know the answer to that question, but I heard my own voice break the silence in the room. “Three.”
Beyond Corson, Truby’s mouth tightened, as if he was uncomfortable with what was unfolding. I frowned, wanting to make sense of his reaction, but then Corson’s gaze was on mine and I couldn’t see anything else.
“Tell us about that day,” Corson demanded.
I couldn’t tell him anything about it. I didn’t remember it.
“Mama took me out of bed and carried me into the woods.”
My voice sounded so different I would’ve thought it was someone else speaking if I couldn’t feel my own lips moving.
But the faintest wisp of memory curled through my mind of my mother drawing me out of bed and into her strong arms. I’d nestled my head into her shoulder, then fallen back asleep right away. The memory made an ache rise in my chest. I couldn’t remember another time since then that I’d ever felt that safe and loved.
“When I woke up, we were in the woods behind our house. Daddy and Uncle Liam were there, and there was a bonfire, and the air smelled strange.”
“Strange?” Corson asked. “You’re an adult now, when you think about that memory can you make sense of the smell?”
“Like smoke and Sulphur and blood.”
“They made a sacrifice to prevent her using her magic except for self-defense,” Truby muttered. “But to who?”
“Unless Lucifer himself bound her, I can break the last of it,” Corson said confidently.
“What kind of Hunters make a deal with the devil?” Truby asked.
“The kind who love their daughter and don’t see another way out,” Briar said, resting her hand on my shoulder.
Corson began to mutter in Latin. Strange images flashed through my mind: my father kneeling in front of me, muttering in Latin; Liam carrying a bowl of blood; an enormous man limned in fire who stood at the edge of the woods, watching over us. I remembered crying, and my mother soothing me.
Briar murmured low, kind words.
In my memory, my father drew a sponge out of the bowl of blood and began to wash me with it, and I screamed and screamed as fire ran through my veins …
Suddenly agony coursed thro
ugh my blood all over again. Briar’s fingers tightened on my shoulder, drawing me against the back of the couch, as I threw my head back and screamed.
Then suddenly, the pain was gone.
The memories were gone.
In front of me was the same room, and the scent of copper and Sulphur faded away. The three of them regarded me with worried faces.
“Are you all right?” Truby raked his hand through his hair, his face genuinely distraught.
“Stellar.” I stumbled to my feet, pulling away from Briar. I couldn’t handle the things I’d just seen.
What had my parents done to me?
Tristan burst through the door, his eyes wild, ready for a fight.
“We aren’t the ones who hurt her,” Truby warned him, holding out his hand.
I almost stumbled into Tristan’s arms, seeking comfort where I’d found it before.
But with his tattooed, muscular body and his chiseled face, he looked so much like a Hunter.
Like the ones who hurt me, no matter how much they loved me.
“I’m fine,” I promised Tristan. I headed for the door, shouldering past him.
“Don’t you want to see what your magic can do now?” Truby asked. “If it worked?”
Jesus, I needed a break after that. I didn’t look back when I spat out, “Give me a minute, Father.”
I’d said father sarcastically, but Tristan froze, as if he thought it meant something.
I grabbed his hand and dragged him with me. I needed to get out of there.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“What happened?” Tristan demanded in a whisper when we were back outside in the garden.
“They took me back in time,” I said. “to when my parents bound my magic.”
“Why?” he asked. “Why did they do it?”
“I don’t know! I was just a little kid. It was terrifying.” My voice came out hot.
Briar’s words repeated in my ears. She’d sounded so sympathetic to both me and my parents. But I didn’t feel a lot of sympathy right now. “What the hell did I do to deserve that?”
What happened to my sister?
I had the sense of something dark and dreadful bleeding under my feet, a pit that would open up where I’d slip in and never stop falling.