Witch Bound totg-2

by Eleri Stone

  “We’re going in to neutralize a threat to the stability of the portal,” Christian continued. “This isn’t a rescue mission, Aiden, no matter how Grace thinks of it.”

  “There’s more to it than that. The reason I came...I just spoke with Julian. He’s had another vision.”

  That captured their complete attention. Raquel was greatly disturbed by the flicker of fear in Aiden’s eyes. “What did he see?”

  “First, Grace was able to contact Kamis and he’s about as helpful as a fortune cookie. He told her, ‘There are many portals but only one bridge,’ which is what our own legends tell us so it’s not particularly informative. Grace seems to think he meant it as a warning.”

  “About what?”

  “We were puzzling through that ourselves,” Aiden said. “And then Julian’s mom called—he was having some sort of seizure, so I met Alan at their house. Julian said he saw the bridge collapse.”

  Raquel could feel the tension in Christian’s body pressed against her side. “All the more reason to end this,” he said.

  “Except that in this vision the Vanir witch is dead. We never get him out of the ice and the bridge collapses when we try to return home.” Aiden looked at her. “You’re coming with us.”

  * * *

  McGuire’s was a little roadside bar at the edge of town, as far away as the strongest Æsir could comfortably get from the fault before they started to feel it. There was a tension in a place like this. A sense of standing on a cliff. A tingle on the fringe of her consciousness, like a warning to turn back. But there wasn’t any danger in staying here.

  Another mile or two and she’d start to feel the drain on her power. Even then she could survive for weeks without any negative effect other than feeling worn down and out of sorts. Longer would start to take a toll on her health, both mental and physical. But she was true-blooded Æsir. For the people who had some human blood in them—which was most clan—the effects were usually less severe, unpredictable depending on their heritage. Grace’s parents had been runners and she’d lived her whole life away from a fault.

  Here, Raquel just felt a pleasant buzz before she’d even had anything to drink. Christian took her arm as she climbed from the car and tucked it beneath his. An oddly formal gesture considering their surroundings. McGuire’s looked like a biker bar. A short, square building with a faded sign set above the overhang to the front door. The gravel lot was nearly full. It was already getting dark and the neon lights hanging in the windows shone brilliantly.

  “I was surprised you asked Aiden without me,” Christian said. “I thought you were afraid of him.”

  “I hoped he’d say yes before you made it downstairs.” She glanced up. “I’m not afraid of him.”

  Christian raised his brows.

  “Okay,” she admitted. “Maybe a little bit, but you didn’t see the way he looked at me after the...accident. I trust him because you, Fen and Grace do. I can trust him, right?”

  Christian squeezed her arm. “You don’t need to be afraid. Aiden wouldn’t hurt you...ever. The other night he was more worried than angry. He’s still worried.”

  “He wouldn’t have given his permission if not for Julian’s vision.”

  “No.”

  She looked at him askance. “That’s why you told me to ask him. You knew what he was going to say.”

  “I told you what he was going to say.”

  He had, that was true, but he’d also very neatly maneuvered her so that her anger—if she was going to be angry—would have all been directed at Aiden not him. She thought about how Christian had been dodging her attempts to talk about the wedding all day. He seemed like such a straightforward man. Discovering that he wasn’t was fascinating...and alarming. Was he still playing her now?

  Music spilled into the quiet night when he opened the door, a heavy throbbing beat that resonated deep inside her. She paused, looking up at her fiancé.

  “Aiden does what’s best for the clan,” he said. “He always does. I’ll make sure you make it back okay.”

  She touched his hip as she passed him. “Thank you.”

  It took a minute for her eyes to adjust to the dim light and take everything in. The area behind the bar was lit and lights hung over each pool table, but there were also a lot of dark corners in the place. The floor was sticky and the music was loud. Not a place you could have a serious conversation. Raquel wondered if that’s why Christian had brought her here. He gave her a little push toward the booths along the wall opposite the bar.

  His breath was warm on her ear. “The food is good.”

  It didn’t seem like Christian’s sort of place, but they seemed to know him. The bartender lifted a hand and the waitress gave Christian a welcoming smile when she dropped off the menus.

  “Do you want—”

  His abrupt stop brought her head up, and she followed his gaze to a shadow of what would have been called a dance floor in a larger establishment. Here, it was just a cleared area surrounding the jukebox in a corner of the bar lit only by neon. She rolled her eyes when she saw the woman who had so captured his attention. Her head was tipped back, long dark hair tangled around the forearm of the man standing behind her. Raquel felt a flash of annoyance. Christian knew she had cold feet, but ostensibly they were still a couple. If he was going to goggle at another woman, the least he could do is be discreet.

  To be fair, the woman was beautiful. Long-limbed and curvaceous. Not the skinny model type Raquel would’ve matched to a man with Christian’s traditional good looks. Her eyes were closed and her mouth slightly parted. Neon skated over exposed skin, making her look exotic and dangerous. And that really made Raquel jealous, because she’d never be either of those things.

  Christian swore. “Fucking idiot.”

  “What—” But the question died on her lips when the man standing behind the sex goddess looked up, right into Raquel’s eyes.

  Fen.

  He stared at her over the woman’s shoulder for a long moment before closing his eyes and angling his body away. But Raquel couldn’t turn away. She watched as his hand skated up the woman’s bare arm, as the woman’s back arched, pushing her full breasts higher. She watched as Fen touched his lips to the side of her neck.

  “Who is she?”

  “Carly Jones,” Christian answered. “She’s pack—She likes hounds. I’m sorry. I have to go talk to him.”

  Carly was the pack concubine, that’s what Christian had been about to say. It happened. Some women valued control more than affection and whoever bonded a hound controlled them, at least sexually. Sometimes several men from one pack would bond to the same woman. It made it easier for the bonded hounds to compartmentalize their lives. No wife. No girlfriend. Just a sexual partner. And so long as she didn’t stray outside the pack, she became almost an honorary member and it didn’t usually cause problems of jealousy. The women and hounds who entered into that kind of arrangement did it purposefully. If Fen was dancing with the pack concubine, he knew exactly what he was doing.

  Raquel couldn’t breathe.

  The woman was nearly the same height as Fen, and his arm wrapped around her body just below her breasts. His knee slid between Carly’s thighs and his free hand gripped her hip to hold her against him.

  Christian blocked Raquel’s view as he and Fen exchanged words—quite a few of them. The song ended, but Carly didn’t leave Fen’s side. She looked upon the confrontation with a remote and faintly amused expression. When Christian pointed toward Raquel, Carly turned her head to follow the gesture. Her lovely eyes narrowed.

  Raquel’s hands curled into fists and she climbed stiffly to her feet. It wasn’t her place to intervene. Fen didn’t want her. She wouldn’t hurt Carly, surely an innocent bystander in this mess.

  Raquel couldn’t hear what was being said over the noise in the bar. The game on the big TV on the wall. The people playing pool in the next room. The waitress brought the drinks and set them on the table. Raquel murmured her thanks withou
t turning, all of her attention on the man across the room. Every ounce of willpower consumed by her fight to stay where she was and give Christian a chance to talk some sense into his friend.

  A moment later, Christian walked back to the table, his expression grim. “Let’s go.”

  Fen and Carly weren’t dancing, they were talking, but Raquel didn’t feel particularly reassured. “What happened?”

  “I’m not going to sit here and watch him do this.”

  “You’re his friend,” she said. “Maybe his best friend. You need to talk him out of this.”

  Christian’s jaw clenched. “He’s made up his mind.”

  Unwillingly, her gaze was pulled back to the corner. Fen stared at her with a lost expression on his face. When she took a step in his direction, he turned away.

  “I’ll try.” She didn’t care if he didn’t want to talk to her.

  “Raquel—”

  Shaking off Christian’s hand on her arm, she stalked across the bar. She knew exactly when Fen realized she was coming after him by the way his body tightened. Supersenses and all. His back stiffened and his shoulders set, but he didn’t lift his head or turn around.

  “Go away, Rocky,” he growled.

  Ignoring that, she addressed Carly. “Would you give us a moment please?”

  Carly nodded and even though Fen raised his hand to stop her from leaving, she slipped past and he let her go.

  Head bowed, Fen released a heavy sigh and then faced Raquel. He wore dark jeans and worn boots, a T-shirt that wrapped the muscles in his arm perfectly. Rubbing a hand over his face, he gave her a look that was more weary than annoyed. “What do you want?”

  “You can ask that?” He knew exactly what she wanted and this was his way of putting it out of reach for both of them. Forever. “Don’t do this.”

  Her voice trembled and he hesitated, but only for a moment. “I’m not betraying my friend, my pack or my clan.”

  “We haven’t done anything.”

  His mouth twisted. “You think the way I look at you isn’t already a betrayal? Give Christian a chance. The two of you could be happy. If you don’t think you can make it work, I’m pretty sure they’ll release you from the contract. I won’t be the reason for it.”

  “That’s it?”

  “I’m not right for you. For anyone. It’s past time I accept that. And you...” He flinched. “It’s better for you too. This way you’re free to look somewhere else.”

  Her blood went cold and then flashed hot. “Do not pretend you’re doing this for me.”

  Except he wasn’t pretending. She could see that. The idiot man thought he was doing the right thing, saving her from herself.

  Fen was silent for several breaths and the look in his eyes broke her heart. When he spoke, his voice was low and strained. “You deserve more. I already have a family and I won’t have children.”

  “We could adopt.”

  He gave her a disgusted look. “And we live happily ever after? It doesn’t work like that.”

  She could see what he wasn’t saying. It doesn’t work like that for me, not for a hound.

  And maybe it didn’t usually work out for hounds, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t work for them. She’d been raised in a clan and was well aware of all the pitfalls that came with bonding a hound. She understood that he would be tied to his pack as tightly as to a mate—maybe more so for him because he led the hounds and because of the man he was. Fen took that responsibility seriously.

  Her eyes were open. Despite all the difficulties in their path now or the ones that might lay ahead, they belonged together. From their first conversation, she felt as if she knew him, had known him forever. Every moment they spent together felt right except this one. Couldn’t he see that?

  “Please,” she said, because if he didn’t understand how wrong this was, she didn’t know how to change his mind.

  He picked up his coat and glanced at someone behind her. Carly, she imagined. For one moment, Fen looked directly at her and Raquel thought he might change his mind. His face was stark. The neon light that had been so kind to Carly only highlighted the hollows of his cheeks and eyes. He looked so painfully unhappy that she couldn’t help but take a step closer. He started for the door, his arm bumping her shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

  She thought about tripping him, knocking him over the head, spelling the door. But she couldn’t do any of those things. She’d made her choice. She had to let him make his. There was nothing else she could do to change his mind. She was right about them. What was between them was good. Truer than pacts or curses or prophecies. They belonged together. She felt that all the way down to her bones. She hoped Fen would realize it too, before he did something phenomenally stupid.

  * * *

  They left without eating and Christian didn’t speak until they pulled into her driveway. The porch light was on and she saw the curtain move before Christian cut the headlights. Of course, her mother would be waiting up for her tonight of all nights.

  Christian reached over and lifted her hand. “I knew there was an interest. I didn’t realize how strong it was on both sides. I’ll talk with him, but I don’t know if I can get him to see sense. He can be so damned hardheaded it drives me crazy.”

  “I didn’t see it happen. If I’d known it was going to...” She couldn’t make herself say she would have prevented it. She wished things were different, but not that way.

  She couldn’t quite read the expression on Christian’s face, but he didn’t seem angry. “Let me go stop him. We’ll figure everything else out later.”

  “Do you think you can?”

  Christian squeezed her hand. “Even if Fen changes his mind about Carly, I doubt he’ll change it about taking a wife. His parents were reasonably happy, but that’s rare for hound matings. And Fen’s father was never pack leader. The clan’s expectations are hard enough to deal with. Add pack ties to that and you can see why he wouldn’t want another collar wrapped around his neck.”

  A collar. Is that really how Fen saw her?

  “I don’t want to collar him.”

  Christian held her gaze for a long time and then nodded. “Don’t screw around with him, Raquel. He’s my friend. I won’t help you hurt him.”

  “Go stop him from making a huge mistake even if you have to beat him over the head to do it. Regardless of what happens, I don’t want to see him hurt.” She blinked back tears. “Christian?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I don’t want you hurt either.”

  He cupped the back of her neck and pulled her forward. A quick kiss to her forehead and then he let her go.

  “We’ll talk later.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  At times, it wasn’t so bad. There were moments, brief and precious, that kept him from sinking into darkness. The way the blue-tinged light filtered through ice, casting kaleidoscope patterns on the bare rock. The special game he’d made of recovering Asgard’s most sacred treasures before Surtr could claim them. The peculiar triumph of escaping a pack of demons on the hunt. He knew it was dangerous to become addicted to the rush of adrenaline, but it was one of the few pleasures left to him.

  He didn’t age. He didn’t feel hunger, leastways not for food. But he was slowly fading into the twilit world of Asgard, this cursed place of frozen death suspended between worlds. He’d been cast out of Vanaheimr. Rightfully so. His pride had cost countless lives. He could appreciate the justice of it, had even been resigned to accept his sentence. Exile. Death in the world broken by his hand.

  But death wouldn’t come.

  It would come soon though. After all these years, it crept over him inexorably as a rising tide. The cold presence at the edge of his consciousness claiming more with every breath. Surtr, in a fit of pique, had melted the ice he stood on, sealing him to the hip and binding his power with scraps of the same chain that had once held Fenrisúlfr. The chain alone would have restrained him. The ice was overkill, was, in fact, slowly killing him—tho
ugh he had no intention of pointing that out to Surtr. He would die rather than let the bastard suck him dry so he could invade yet another world.

  If he could spare Midgard this fate, he would. He blamed the girl for this strange willingness to sacrifice himself. She’d been such a fragile thing, dragged through the portal from Midgard by one of the sons. He’d come across her entirely by chance and some long-buried instinct to protect a child had compelled him to help her. He hadn’t been able to send her back.

  When Odin cast the spell that allowed his people to live in Midgard, he’d also spelled the bridge that permitted their escape. A Vanir couldn’t cross that bridge. He couldn’t even be near it without every hair on his body standing on end. The backlash from what Surtr was forcing him to do was tearing him apart. It was why he couldn’t escape the ice or heal his frozen legs. It was why, after all this time, it would be something as simple as the cold that would kill him.

  The crow was back. Her glassy eyes, hard and unblinking, fixed on him with disconcerting intensity. Asgardian spy. Black-winged birds had long been a harbinger of death for his kind, so he supposed it was only fitting that she should be here now. Her feathers ruffled in the stiff wind.

  “Go away, stupid bird. They nearly tore you apart last time and I won’t distract them again.” Surtr had taken his anger out on him when she escaped. “One chance is all you get. I won’t encourage stupidity.”

  She shifted her wings and resettled. Such a conceit of Odin’s to bespell his people to assume his various incarnations. He’d so enjoyed playing the crow. “I told you what you need to do and you didn’t bring a weapon. My own blade fell into the crevice there if you wish to retrieve it.”

  He spoke to her with his mind, knew that she could hear him. Unlike last time, she replied. “I won’t kill you.”

  “The sooner you do so, the safer you will be.”

  “We’re safe enough for now.” She tilted her head. “Our witch has strengthened the wards.”

  He laughed. There was a powerful witch on the other side. Wild and completely out of control. She’d almost destroyed not only the portal but the bridge itself. All the Æsir in Midgard would die if the bridge connecting them to their home was destroyed. Asgard would be lost beyond recovery and Vanaheimr would likely suffer as well. It was something he hadn’t considered when helping to plan the invasion. The bridges were the energy conduit that connected the worlds, but they weren’t the only thing binding them together. Odin had complicated things before his death, protecting his people but making it harder to undo the damage. At this point, anything that tampered with the delicate network of spells could be catastrophic.