Beholden

by Kris T. Bethke

  I rolled my head on the back of the couch. Wes smiled faintly, and he wore the “just fucked” look very well. I suddenly realized I wanted to see that look on his face a lot more. And, irrationally, I wanted to be the only one to put it there.

  Well, crap. A crush had already taken hold. I really should’ve known that would be the case.

  He opened his mouth, but never got a chance to speak when a piece of paper suddenly appeared in his lap.

  He scowled at it, like it had mortally offended him, before picking it up. My attention was drawn to the way he still hung out of his pants. Even soft, his cock was impressive. I wanted to touch it some more.

  “Shit,” he murmured. My gaze shot to his face. He gave a rueful shake of his head and handed me the paper.

  I tried to call but your cell is turned off. Where the hell are you? We should have left twenty minutes ago!

  MD

  “It’s from Max,” Wes explained, his tone heavy with reluctance. He stood and dressed. I mourned the loss of his bare chest when it disappeared under his shirt. “I hate to come and leave, but I need to go.”

  “I understand.” And I did. He had a job to do, and I couldn’t keep him from it just because I wanted more cuddle time.

  He gave me a small smile, then leaned over to press his lips to mine in a short but heated kiss. “I’ll find you when I get back. If that’s all right with you.”

  My smile was uncontrollable. “I’d like that.”

  “Good.” Then, after another quick peck to my lips, he strode toward the door. He stopped with his hand on the knob. “I don’t know how long this assignment is going to take.”

  I read between the lines. He didn’t know when he’d be back, but he didn’t want me to worry if it took a while. It was thoughtful of him to make sure I understood. I nodded, and this time, the smile he gave me seemed practically affectionate.

  Wes stared at me a few seconds longer, and I sat there, letting him look. Then he gave me a wink and left.

  I sighed and heaved myself off the couch. After putting the wards back in place, I sat at my desk. I wanted to believe that Wes would be back for a repeat of what we’d had. He seemed like the kind of man who did what he promised. But I wouldn’t get my hopes up. After he had some distance, Wes would probably realize he’d worked me out of his system. Men like Wes didn’t go for men like me. I tried to tell myself that was okay. At least I’d been with him once. And it had been hot enough to fuel future jack-off sessions for a while.

  Besides, if he failed to show up again, at least I’d be able to get over my crush.

  I shook my head. I had work to do, and thanks to Wes Caldwell, my magic had been replenished enough to get it done. I focused on the next assignment, firmly transfixing the image in my mind as I leaned over the water. Falling into the familiar rhythm of scrying, I pushed Wes to the back of my brain.

  Chapter 4

  The sigil was broken. I couldn’t believe it. I’d never had a problem with it before—Lena had worked the spell herself and it was set to respond to my magic—but no matter what I did, the reports wouldn’t send. I squinted at it with bleary eyes, looking for something that marred the etching. But it looked as perfect as always. For a long moment, I stared stupidly at it, not knowing what to do.

  The clock on the credenza chimed the hour, and I started at the sound. It was only five o’clock, and usually I worked much later. But I was exhausted and, technically, I could call it quits for the day. Deciding I would do just that, I slowly and methodically packed away my things. Once done, I extinguished the candles and tucked the stack of reports I’d been trying to send underneath my arm. In the hallway, I shut and locked the door, then had to lean heavily against the smooth wood to set the wards. It took an extraordinarily long time before I felt them snap into place. I kept leaning for another few minutes before I felt like I could move without falling over.

  I trudged up the stairs to the first floor. I turned the corner in the lobby and squinted at the remaining flights. Lena worked in the administrative offices on the fifth floor. I just didn’t think I had the energy to make the climb, though it was usually something I did without thought. I didn’t normally like to take the elevator—I was always afraid of getting stuck—but I didn’t think I had much choice. I’d never make it up and back down again without needing a nap somewhere around the third floor.

  Anxiety caused a surge of adrenaline. I hated being confined in the elevator, and I spent the entire time half certain it was going to stall between floors. By the time I stepped off into the fifth floor hallway, I was a little more alert. It was easy enough to walk to the other end and stick my head into Lena’s office.

  She looked up, smiled, then turned serious. “Julian, honey, what the hell is the matter with you?”

  I shrugged. “Sigil is broken. I couldn’t send the reports.” My voice sounded tired even to my own ears.

  She shook her head, her hair wildly swinging about her ears with the action. She stood and practically ran to my side, tucking her body under my arm to shore me up and taking the reports from me at the same time. I gave her a grateful smile.

  “You don’t look so good. Maybe we should stop by the medical wing?” Her kind tone made it sound like a suggestion that she didn’t care if I listened to or not. But I saw the worry in her eyes.

  I shook my head fast, and was grateful I had her to cling to when the room started to tilt. I breathed deeply until everything settled again. “No. I’m just tired. Overly taxed. I promise.” The figurative light bulb went off and I looked at her, my eyes wide with sudden realization. “Oh, hey, maybe that’s why I couldn’t get the sigil to work!”

  Lena laughed, a melodic, throaty sound. I grinned down at her, and she rolled her eyes. “You think?”

  “Yeah.” I chuckled at my own idiocy. “Should have figured that out right away. I’m just too tired to think.”

  Lena gave me a shrewd stare. “And when has that ever happened to you? You’ve got the whole Beholden thing going on. You can work for days straight without making a dent in your magical reserve.”

  She was exaggerating. I could put in a full day before I started to feel it. And working for days straight might be my norm, but I always recharged during those binges, often sleeping hard for hours at a time on my couch. The couch that would never be the same to me again. No, I wasn’t going to think about him.

  I gave her an indulgent smile, and made the effort to straighten up. I started to list in the other direction and had to use the doorframe to keep myself from toppling over. After a moment, everything felt stable again.

  “It’s been a rough couple of days. I’m just going to go home and sleep. Maybe actually take tomorrow off to recuperate.”

  Lena gasped, her eyes widening. “I can’t remember the last time you took a day off.” She bit her lip, then her mouth turned downward. “Do I need to call Mara?”

  I glared at her. That suggestion was ridiculous, and Lena damn well knew it. She actually laughed before holding up a hand in surrender. My sister might be my emergency contact, but only because I didn’t have anyone else. My parents and I weren’t exactly on speaking terms. But Lena knew about the latest fight with my sister, and she knew I wasn’t going to do anything to fix it this time. She actually approved, and had told me it was high time that I’d given Mara a piece of my mind.

  “Are you okay to drive?” she asked.

  I nodded. “It’s only ten or fifteen minutes. I can make it home.”

  “What’s going on?” a voice interrupted.

  Officer Cyril Merrithew walked into the office. He was with the Magical Police Force, and also one of the few people I would count as a friend. He had an easygoing nature and a friendly, open face. I attributed our kinship to the fact that he was a shifter. Well, partially anyway. Most shifters were looked down upon as being at the bottom rung of the magical ladder. I never saw it that way, but that was because Beholden were the second to bottom rung. Cyr was viewed even lower, since
his other half was demon.

  “Hey there, Cyril,” I said, my grin feeling a bit lopsided and goofy. I had just enough presence of mind to realize I was getting loopy. I wondered just how many bruises I would find decorating my skin when I got out of my clothes. I needed to recharge my magic in the worst way.

  “Jules,” he said with a nod of acknowledgement. “You being difficult? Should I make you go to medical?”

  I gave him a playful scowl. “Eavesdropping isn’t very polite.”

  He nodded, not looking the least bit remorseful.

  I sighed heavily and shook my head, grateful for the lessened room-spin. “No, really. I’m okay. I’ve just overtaxed myself two days in a row and I’m going to need some time to recover. Once I get home and into bed, and sleep for about three days, I’ll be all good.”

  He squinted. “You sure?”

  “I promise.”

  Cyril shrugged his big shoulders and looked at Lena, who’d been watching our conversation. “What do you think, Ms. Rystrom?”

  Lena chewed her lip for a moment as she thought about it, then released a sigh. “Yeah, he’s probably right. I’ll let the bosses know that he needs a few days. But you have to promise you’re not going to come back to work until you’ve fully recovered. I mean it, Julian. Scrying can manage a few days without you. You need to take care of yourself.”

  “I’d listen to the lady, if I were you, Jules,” Cyr added.

  I threw up my hands in defeat, knowing they both had my best interest in mind. “Cross my heart,” I said solemnly. “I’ll go home and sleep and recharge. And I won’t set foot in the building until I’m once again at one hundred percent.”

  Lena pinched my cheek. “You’re such a good boy.”

  I batted away her hand as both she and Cyril laughed. After making sure Lena would take care of my reports, I left the office. Though I stepped slowly, I didn’t wobble. I was tired, but I’d be okay to make it home.

  “Jules, hang on a minute,” Cyril called. I paused but didn’t turn, just listened to the sound of his rubber-soled shoes jogging closer. Finally, he placed a hand on my shoulder and turned me so he could really look at me. “Tell me the truth? Are you okay? Is it just a massive drain of power and magic? Or is there something else going on?”

  For a moment, I debated telling him about Wes. But even though we were good friends, I couldn’t seem to force the words up my throat. If I spoke about it out loud, it would become true. And I needed to get Wes out of my head—at least until I knew his intentions. Giving voice to my crush would make it seem more real, and that was one thing I really didn’t need at the moment.

  “I swear, Cyr. I’m fine. Just tired beyond belief and in desperate need of serious recharging.”

  The man studied me for a long moment, then put both hands on the sides of my neck. He was always hot to the touch. Shifter’s body temperature ran higher than normal people, and he had the added bonus of being part demon as well. But it felt good. I wondered when I’d gotten so cold.

  With gentle pressure, I felt just a bit of his magic trickling in. Shifter magic was on a different scale than regular practitioners, and it never hurt or stung when a shifter shared a bit of their power. To me, it always felt like a warm caress. But Cyr’s magic didn’t resonate with mine, so it was a temporary boost at best.

  “Just to get you home,” Cyril said after a few minutes, pulling away his hands. “I know it won’t last long, but at least it’ll keep you from falling asleep at the wheel.”

  I gave him a grateful smile. “Thanks, Cyr.”

  “Don’t mention it. Be safe.”

  “You, too.”

  I watched him walk down the hallway, then I turned toward the bank of elevators. Cyril’s boost had given me enough energy that I knew I could make it down the stairs, drive home, and at least eat something before I fell into bed. With that plan firmly in place, I headed home.

  Chapter 5

  My head was pounding. No, that wasn’t right. Someone was knocking forcefully on the door, but because I had been dreaming, it translated to dream-me having a raging headache. I blinked, eyes bleary, until I could focus on the clock. It read nine-oh-seven, though whether that was A.M. or P.M., I wasn’t sure. I shoved the covers off my body, and sat up slowly. After taking a second to get my equilibrium, I stumbled out of bed and groped on the floor until my hand encountered a pair of sweat pants. I continued tugging them over my hips as I headed for the front door.

  The sun shining in the living room windows let me know it was morning. I shook my head at the dust motes floating in the air—I really needed to clean—before I turned my attention to the entryway. I could just make out the face distorted in the door’s leaded glass windows. I moved faster, released the wards with a whispered word, and flipped the deadbolt. My heart thumped as I yanked open the door.

  “Wes, hey,” I said genially, stepping back to let him in. I tried to make my tone casual as I added, “What’s going on?”

  He squinted, his blue eyes narrowing as he studied me. “I could ask you the same thing.”

  “Huh?”

  He shook his head as he crossed over the threshold, then turned to pin me with a hard stare. “I got back this morning and went to your office, but obviously, you weren’t there. I started asking around, only no one seemed to have seen you recently. It was only after I ran into Cyril and he told me what happened, that I found out what was going on.”

  “Oh, hey, you’re back! That was fast. I expected you to be gone for longer,” I said, my brain stuck on that one piece of information. I hadn’t had a caffeine fix. It wasn’t my fault I was working at a less-than-optimal brain speed.

  Worry etched itself on his face. What was that about? “Julian,” he said, concern coloring his voice. “I’ve been gone for almost a week.”

  What? No, that couldn’t be right. It had been just a day or two since I’d last seen him, hadn’t it? “Wh-what day is it?” I asked, my voice tremulous.

  “Tuesday.”

  Six days. I had lost six days? How had that even happened? I started to shake, wobbly knees carrying me to the couch so I could sink down on the edge. I wracked my brain, trying to remember something, anything, that could help me mark the passage of time. I couldn’t have been sleeping for six days. It was just not possible. I buried my face in my hands, panic starting to creep into my gut.

  “Julian?” Wes said my name tentatively. He took hold of my wrists, then gently tugged down my hands. He knelt in front of me, and I saw the worry on his face. “What’s wrong?”

  Suddenly, I recalled little things about the last few days. I remembered eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches when my hunger forced me out of bed. I remembered taking trips to the bathroom only to crawl back between the sheets afterward. Wes’s touch helped me to focus. His skin against mine had boosted my energy.

  “Oh, gods,” I whispered. This didn’t make any sense. The immense fatigue, the deep bruises that didn’t entirely go away, the inability to focus, my power waning after just a few hours of work…I shouldn’t be feeling like this. I couldn’t contain the wail that escaped. “This isn’t supposed to happen to me!”

  “Julian,” Wes tried again, his tone soft and reassuring. “You’re freaking me out here. What’s going on?”

  “I’m Beholden.” I averted my gaze. I didn’t want to see the look of revulsion on his face if he felt like a good deal of the practitioner population.

  “Okay,” he said slowly, as if missing something.

  I didn’t think I could handle judgment from him. Not about this. I looked at him then, relieved to see it apparently didn’t bother him.

  “I’m Beholden,” I repeated, my voice a bit stronger. Then I took a deep breath. “And that means this kind of drain isn’t supposed to happen to me.”

  He looked confused. I could practically see his mind working, trying to fit the pieces together. After a long silent moment, he shook his head, levered himself up off the floor, and sat next to me on t
he couch, leaving a few inches between us.

  “I think I’m missing something. Perhaps you could use more words to explain?” His lips quirked, like he found himself amusing. I tried a smile in return, but it felt wobbly. He probably wouldn’t be laughing for long.

  “Okay, so, um, you know that the Beholden spell sort of—” I stopped short, trying to figure out the best way to explain it. Everyone knew the theory behind Beholding, but unless you experienced it yourself, it was difficult to explain what transpired. I took a steadying breath. Then I shrugged and gave the best description I could. “When you work the spell, it’s like you cast a net that grabs all of your magic and reins it in, focusing it on your one discipline.”

  I could see the moment that everything made sense to him. His eyes went wide, then his lids dropped closed, and he muttered a heartfelt, “Fuck.”

  “Yeah,” I whispered.

  “So,” he said after a few beats of tense silence. “You’re telling me that you never feel this kind of drain, because your magic isn’t spread out, and that this hasn’t happened to you since you became Beholden.”

  “Yes.”

  His eyes cracked open to slits. “When did you start to have this problem?”

  I had to think, and it was still hard to make my brain work. I closed one hand around his wrist. I let myself tug a bit of power from him. “Um, that night that I went looking for Roberts.”

  Wes growled. “Did I do this to you?”