The bird hopped from its perch on Marcus’s backpack to Sadie’s bed and walked across it to face her.
It felt almost like a confrontation. As if, in asking the question, Sadie had done wrong.
“What?” she demanded of the bird.
The shower switched off.
Karma returned to her perch on the backpack.
Sadie stared at it. Do you know what Marcus is sacrificing for you? “No,” she said on a breath of horror.
The phoenix ruffled its flight feathers, then settled, beady eyes observing Sadie.
“No,” Sadie repeated, trying to ward off her sudden suspicion; her sudden, unwanted knowing.
The bathroom door opened. She whirled and stared out the window.
“Sorry to be so abrupt,” Marcus said. “Cold water reduces the fever a bit. I’m okay, if you want the bathroom, then we can go eat. I couldn’t stand another drive-through meal.”
“Twenty minutes.” She kept her face averted as she grabbed her duffel bag and hurried into the bathroom. “Dear God in heaven, let me be wrong,” she whispered. Her eyes, reflected in the mirror, were anguished.
I can’t sit opposite him at a restaurant table. He’ll see that something’s wrong. Or I’ll break down.
Maybe I should. Maybe I have to ask him.
No, no, no. She couldn’t handle this. Her suspicions couldn’t be true. They were a combination of her stress and the shock of Marcus’s news that he was dying. If she believed anything else, she’d shatter.
Don’t think, don’t think, don’t think. She showered off the ick feeling of a long day on the road and emerged from the bathroom in a clean t-shirt and jeans with her comfortable long cardigan. She was determined to keep things practical. That was her: Sadie Howard, practical and unflappable. “I need to do a load of laundry.” But she continued avoiding his eyes.
“I guess I should, too. We can throw a load in before we go eat.”
She’d stayed in motels too often to risk losing her clothes to other light-fingered guests. “Someone will—”
“Telekinetic.” He wriggled the fingers of his right hand. “They won’t be able to open the washing machine.”
“Ah. Okay.” She’d never heard of anyone using magic for such everyday activities, but she could make this work. “We passed a Thai restaurant just up the road. If we put our clothes into wash and grab a takeaway, by the time we’re back, we can transfer our clothes to a dryer.”
“And eat in the motel room?” He sounded disappointed.
“The river’s not far. I thought we could sit on the bank and watch the Mississippi go by, or the lights of the boats on it. Karma could come with us.” Not that Sadie was sure she wanted the suddenly freaky bird with them, although she was probably just projecting her confused emotions onto an innocent bird, which wasn’t fair.
She took a deep breath. She could be calm. Marcus touched her shoulder lightly, and she jumped.
He glanced at her oddly. “You dropped a sock.” He dangled the white cotton sock.
“Thanks,” she muttered, embarrassed, and added it to the bundle of laundry in her arms. They walked across the courtyard to the laundry, a shabby gray-walled room. Neither had that much laundry, and she was determined to be practical. “You might as well put your washing in with mine.”
Nonetheless, it felt weirdly intimate to close the washing machine knowing that their clothes intermingled. She paused a moment with her arms braced against the machine.
“Are you okay?” He didn’t touch her. Only his low voice wove around her. “You’ve had a stressful twenty four hours. I can set a ward around the motel room and you can stay safe there while I buy dinner. You wanted Thai?”
She’d forgotten that she was hiding from Stag mercenaries. It wasn’t the sort of danger that would normally slip a woman’s mind. “I’d prefer to come with you.”
“We’ll take the truck.”
The restaurant was walking distance, but the truck was warded. Sadie slipped into the passenger seat. She’d barely done up the seatbelt and fidgeted with the outer seam of her jeans before Marcus parked outside the Thai restaurant. “I think I’ll stay in the truck,” she blurted and fumbled for her wallet. “Pad Thai, please.”
He nodded and left before she could give him the money to pay for her own meal. She watched him walk into the well-lit restaurant. The soft denim of his old jeans clung to the lean muscles of his butt and thighs. She closed her eyes as the restaurant door swung shut behind him.
Nine years ago he’d broken her heart, publicly breaking up with her. For nine years that had been all she’d needed to know about him. He was a bastard.
But now, she’d learned that his grandfather had been a true bastard. Imagine addicting your own grandson to something that would kill him. She could guess why the old man had done so. Addict a person to a drug that only you could supply and you owned them. It was ruthless. Evil.
Nine years ago Marcus had discovered his telekinetic magic and his grandfather had immediately addicted him to phoenix blood.
Marcus had lost the life he’d planned. He wasn’t the successful doctor she’d imagined he’d become. He’d had the drive and determination to be anything he wanted, but magic and his grandfather had intervened, and for those nine years, Marcus had done things that he obviously regretted. It showed in his resolve to right old wrongs.
But what if I was the one who wronged him? Sadie shivered and tugged her cardigan around her, not that the soft wool could ease emotional cold.
She recalled their first conversation about the past. She’d said, “When I left Boston I promised myself I wouldn’t track you online. I wouldn’t follow what you did. I turned my back on that whole life.”
And he’d responded with bleak satisfaction, “I thought you would.”
If Marcus’s grandfather had been ruthless enough to addict his own grandson to phoenix blood (and don’t forget that the Senator had caged and bled a phoenix for decades), then what else would the Senator have done to control Marcus?
The people Marcus loved would have become weapons to be used against him.
His mom was dead, he had no siblings, and his dad had never featured in Marcus’s life. Marcus had stood alone; popular with his friends, but alone. Until the day he’d broken her heart, she’d thought she was the only person he’d let close. Later, she’d derided herself as a naïve fool, but what if her heart had known the truth.
Had Marcus loved her and sacrificed that love to keep her safe?
The restaurant door opened. He walked out, scanning the car park and road before focusing on her. A hint of a smile softened his face. When he opened the truck door, the spicy aroma of Thai food drifted in. “I wasn’t sure what you wanted to drink, so I’ve gotten water and sparkling lemon.”
Nine years ago lemon had been her favorite flavor. It still was. A frog caught in her throat, preventing her from thanking him.
Not noticeably disconcerted by her silence, he drove back to the motel. “You might as well stay in the truck. I’ll just be a moment.” He ducked into the laundry before retrieving Karma from the motel room.
Five minutes later, they were choosing a spot by the Mississippi River to sit and eat.
The Pad Thai was good, spicy and fresh. The light smog of the city turned the river a dull, shimmering gray. Boat lights shone yellow. The scene was slow-moving and timeless. It ought to have been peaceful, but Sadie was too wound up to relax.
If she challenged Marcus with her suspicions, what would she gain? The truth was meant to set a person free, but how could it this time? He was dying.
Abruptly, her Pad Thai tasted saltily of tears. She sniffed and blew her nose on a paper napkin. “The chilies are hot,” she excused herself hoarsely.
“It’s nice out here,” Marcus said comfortably. “Better than eating in a restaurant.” They sat on the rough-cut grass. A cool wind blew off the river and ruffled his hair.
Karma had flown off, no more than a shadow over the rive
r before even that visual connection was lost.
It would be easier on her heart if she could continue to believe that Marcus had meant every word of his cruel break up.
“You didn’t marry Inez Wright,” Sadie said.
He froze, then slowly set aside his nearly empty container of takeaway food. He picked up a bottle of water. “My life entered a different pattern.”
“Uh huh.” She put aside her food, too. The sparkling lemon drink was clear and crisp. Her tongue tingled from the chili peppers in the Pad Thai. “You said I was entertainment, young and trainable, willing to do anything you asked.”
He’d sounded amused at the time. He’d appeared every inch the privileged son of one of Boston’s oldest and wealthiest families. They’d stood in the foyer of a theatre during intermission. The play had been Shakespeare’s Hamlet. Ironic. Senator Aurelius had stood with them, appearing only mildly interested when Marcus had turned to one of his friends—just as privileged, even more arrogant than him—and said, “Do you want her? I’m going to marry Inez Wright or her sister. But this one is fun. Her British accent is fake, though. She’s just a country cousin.”
He’d broken her heart. Cracked her confidence. She’d fled back to Tennessee and consciously lost all the accent, mannerisms and dreams she’d learned at Minervalle School in Britain.
Except her Old School friends hadn’t let her lose them. She was profoundly glad for their loyalty. It had saved her.
“You were young,” Marcus said as voices from a boat on the river drifted on the air, a murmur of sound.
“And easily manipulated.”
He put down the bottle of water and leaned backwards on the palms of his hands. He seemed to press them into the dirt, to ground himself. “Let the past stay buried, Sadie.”
But he said her name with an ache in his voice.
“Did you love me, Marcus?”
“This isn’t the time.” And before she could protest. “Stag mercenaries. The two who chased you into the bar. Two hundred feet to my left and incoming.”
She scrambled up. “The truck is warded.”
He leapt up and grabbed her arm. His hand was scorching hot even through the thick wool of her cardigan. “Wait.”
The night was dark and shadowed. Two men walked toward them, moving confidently. They stopped near enough to talk, but out of Marcus’s physical reach. Evidently his violence in the bar had provided a lesson.
“Give us the amulet and we’ll leave,” the shorter of the two said to Sadie.
She tried to see his appearance and the moon favored her. It came out from behind a cloud. The angle of it lit the Stag mercenaries’ faces, while obscuring hers and Marcus’s.
The man ordering her around was about thirty, solid and confident. He didn’t seem brutal, merely business-like.
“What did you do to Millie?” she asked.
“The old lady at the farm? Nothing. She was gone when we got there.”
Sadie blinked. That wasn’t possible. Millie was too frail to move fast. Even if she’d gotten into her car, they could have caught up with her—unless they hadn’t bothered, somehow tracking Sadie and the amulet, instead. “So you burned her barns?”
“We were looking for the amulet. The house was a mistake.” The second mercenary was younger than Sadie, thinner and jittery.
With a jolt, she saw that he held a gun. Apparently, they weren’t going to rely on magic. Why would they when a gun worked just fine for intimidation purposes?
“You burned the woman’s house?” Marcus intervened. Disgust and disapproval laced his tone.
The gun steadied in his direction.
The older mercenary ducked his head fractionally. “A mistake. The fire escaped George.” Magic could be flammable. “But there’s no need for more damage or violence. Hand over the amulet.”
“It’s mine.” Marcus stepped forward. As he did so, he turned so that the moon showed his profile.
George pulled the trigger, aiming for the dirt at Marcus’s feet, even as the older mercenary grabbed George’s arm. “The gun’s jammed.” George tried to shake off his colleague’s hold.
His colleague wasn’t to be dislodged. “No magic.” It was an order. “Marcus Aurelius, I saw you in the Arena.”
George dropped the gun.
Sadie had feeling he hadn’t meant to. It had slipped from his grasp in shock. Whatever the arena was, it meant something to the mercenaries—and if it scared Stag mercenaries…
“I hoped one of you would recognize me. It makes things less messy.” Marcus sounded cold and deadly. “Take a message back to headquarters. The amulet is mine. Your client needs to up his bid if he wants to find someone to take me on.”
The older mercenary barked a laugh. “None of us are that crazy.”
“Someone will be,” Marcus responded disinterestedly. “And then, they’ll die.”
The stark words had their own power. They weren’t a threat or a promise. They were a fact. Marcus would kill anyone who came after the amulet.
Who came after me, Sadie realized.
She stayed very still, careful not to draw the mercenaries’ attention.
“We’ll pass on the message,” the spokesman said, and then, to George. “Leave the gun. It’s broken.”
Marcus was a telekinetic. The gun hadn’t jammed on its own.
The Stag mercenaries had their own magic. You didn’t join that elite group unless you were a wizard. However, neither appeared willing to engage Marcus. They behaved like bunny rabbits confronted by a wolf, a wolf that had fed recently and if they were very, very lucky, they could escape from.
The two men backed away, putting ten or more feet between themselves and Marcus before they dared to turn and walk away, fast.
Sadie’s breath whooshed out. “Just how scary are you?” she asked involuntarily.
Marcus picked up the remains of their dinner. “I’m deadly.” He looked toward the river and whistled.
Karma soared in and landed on his shoulder. Her beak ran lovingly down his face.
“You need to drive us back to the motel.” He passed Sadie the keys to the truck. “I need another shower. The magic I didn’t use is burning in my veins.”
“Marcus?” She didn’t know what she was asking. She put a hand to his face and found his skin as hot as he’d said. “Oh, honey.”
He kissed her.
Chapter 6
It was the worst time to kiss Sadie. Fire burned in his veins. The inferno felt as if it would tear his skeleton apart, just send his bones flying in all directions. It wrenched and strained at his joints. And he had no right to kiss her. She’d just learned that he killed people and terrified Stag mercenaries—not all of them, but he’d counted on the two assigned to amulet-retrieval being lower level wizards.
He shouldn’t kiss Sadie. She was already reaching back into the past and that way lay only hurt: emotional pain to join his physical disintegration.
But heaven forgive him, he craved her kiss.
Her lips were cool and faintly lemony.
Karma leapt off his shoulder. He barely noticed. His attention was for the faint pressure of Sadie’s lips. Only their mouths touched, feather-light. She could withdraw at any moment. He clenched his hands by his sides and concentrated on the kiss, drawing in her sweetness, feeling the cool relief of her acceptance all the way to his tired soul.
She stroked his face, a gentle caress with shaking fingers. He trembled and she drew back. “Your fever.”
“It’s better.” It was. The scorching heat had retreated. Pain remained, but lots of people lived with chronic pain. “Should I apologize…for kissing you?”
“You didn’t compel me.” She looked away, her gaze finding Karma and studying the bird that sat on the grass near them. “Marcus, nine years ago, did you send me away so that your grandfather couldn’t use me against you?”
The question was nine years too late. Then again, if the Senator had been alive, Marcus couldn’t have answered hon
estly. “I didn’t want you hurt.”
“So you took all the hurt on yourself?” she asked huskily.
“I’m not a good man, Sadie. Don’t go excusing or forgiving me.” He walked away to stuff the remains of their dinner in an overflowing trash can.
Sadie’s lips tingled and she felt light-headed. She’d never understood the tendency of heroines in old melodramas to swoon, but swooning would be a nice option right now. Her emotions were in turmoil and her hormones—obedient, even disinterested, for so many years—were clamoring for more!
More Marcus. More kisses. More everything.
He had sacrificed his love for her to save her. Maybe he was right. Maybe she wouldn’t have survived his grandfather. The megalomaniac Senator had been a ruthless horror. But in saving her, cutting her loose, Marcus had left himself utterly isolated.
Sadie had her family. She and her stepmom and stepsisters mightn’t be best buddies, but they all valued family ties. Her dad had helped her find a new path, giving her the first van she’d used to start picking. And then, there’d been her Old School friends.
“You were wrong, Marcus.” She hadn’t meant to say anything, but when he returned to her, the words spilled out. “I was young. We were both young. But we could have fought your grandfather.”
“I fought him. I lost.” He’d closed off from her. “Let’s get back to the motel. The mercenaries are gone, for now, but Stag will send someone else. The closer we are to LA, the better. So, sleep and an early start.”
She blinked. “But they said…they were obviously scared to challenge you.”
“There are still a few rare people not scared of me.”
She thought he might be joking, although he didn’t smile. She walked with him back to the truck.
He shortened the easy lope of his long legs to her stride. “If the client who employed the Stag mercenaries to acquire the amulet wants it badly enough, he or she will put up a bounty sufficient to tempt someone to attack me.”
Karma flew past them and landed on the driver’s side rear view mirror, golden tail feathers a dark shadow against the truck’s paintwork.
Phoenix Blood (Old School Book 1) Page 5