Halfway Hexed

by Kimberly Frost

  Then the kaleidoscope of sensation started, and he sucked my magic into him, dragging my hand to his side while he touched mine. The sharp pain dulled, and I felt him stiffen and bite my lip. I gasped into his mouth and dissolved into pulsing tingling flesh. When the blood stopped rushing in my ears, I opened my eyes and looked at his face. Agony and ecstasy in one.

  Finally, he closed his eyes and fell back onto the bed, breathing hard. He fisted his right hand. I studied him, realizing what he’d done. There, a mirror image to mine, the side of his chest was scuffed and bruised a reddish purple.

  I shook my head. “Is there anything men won’t do for sex?” I mumbled, tracing a finger around the edge of his warm, wounded flesh.

  “That’s the wrong question, Tamara.”

  “What’s the right question, Bryn?” I whispered.

  “I’ll tell you when you’re ready to hear it.”

  His cell phone was sitting on the nightstand, and when it rang, it startled us both. I climbed off him gingerly, but he caught my arm.

  “Leave it,” he said.

  “I’ll just see who it is. Maybe someone you care about needs you,” I said, thinking of Mr. Jenson tucked away out of town and his friend Andre on the run. I tugged my wrist free of his grip and went to the phone. I looked at the display and froze.

  Gwendolyn Vaughn.

  You have got to be kidding me!

  I clutched the phone and sat down on the bed. “Say hello.”

  Bryn, who was already half asleep, mumbled, “What?”

  “Say hello,” I said sharply, not wanting the call to go to voicemail.

  “Hello,” he murmured when I picked up. Then I put the phone to my ear and listened to her lie. She was world-class. The tears. The way her voice caught as she claimed that I’d attacked her. I almost believed her myself, and I’d been there.

  “It was self-defense,” she sobbed. “But I—I’m not sure if she’s even still alive. I need you to come to me right now. Please.”

  I wished I knew as many languages as Bryn so I could curse at Gwen in all of them. Instead, I hung up on her.

  The phone began ringing again immediately.

  “What?” Bryn said, opening his eyes and reaching for the phone.

  I slid it away from him. “It’s the spy who shoved me. She wants to tell you that she was only defending herself when she killed me.”

  Bryn struggled to alertness. “Give it here.”

  “If you agree to meet her ever again, I might lose my mind and stab you through the heart or something.”

  The corner of Bryn’s mouth curved up.

  “But you know,” I said with a mock casual shrug. “Do whatever you want.” I slapped the phone into his hand and walked to his dresser.

  “Hello,” Bryn said.

  I dug through Bryn’s T-shirts until I found a well-worn one in his Yale Law School colors. Printed on it in bold letters were the words: You have the right to remain silent. Please use it.

  I slipped it on just as he said, “Thanks, Gwen.”

  I went still, trying to imagine whether I was hallucinating. What reason in the known universe could there be for Bryn to thank Gwen? I turned slowly and glared at him.

  “I’m sorry,” he said to her, but shook his head so I’d know he wasn’t being sincere. “What’s that?” He paused, frowning. “Tomorrow morning will be soon enough.” He stopped and I knew that she was arguing. “Well, it’ll have to be.” He hung up the phone and turned it off.

  “Why did you say thank you?”

  “She told me I was remarkably composed. Just like my old self. She’s proud of me.”

  “For being completely emotionless about me being murdered?”

  “Apparently.”

  “That bitch!” A sharp cramp of pain reminded me that even though Bryn had taken half the injury, there was still some left. I rubbed my side.

  Bryn pulled the covers back and crawled under them. He held out a hand to me.

  “I was thinking of sleeping downstairs,” I said.

  “No.”

  “What are we doing here?” I ran a hand through my hair. “There’s the prophecy thing. Plus, I broke my promise to Zach,” I said with a sigh.

  “No, you didn’t. You told him you wouldn’t decide between us. I’m not asking you for the rest of your life. I’m just asking you for tonight.”

  “Loopholes and technicalities,” I mumbled, then chewed the inside of my cheek and stared up at the sky through the panes of glass. “I don’t know if I can do it. Getting caught up in the moment, that’s one thing. I was naked. You were—you.”

  I looked back at him and found he was smiling.

  “Okay, sleep downstairs,” he said, setting his arm down.

  The tension eased out of me. I was off the hook. Wasn’t that nice of Bryn?

  “Good,” I said, exhaling in relief as I walked toward the door.

  “Two things,” he said.

  “Yes?”

  “That T-shirt’s not long enough. You’d better wear something more unless you don’t care about the security cameras.”

  I blushed. Of course, I cared. I’d just forgotten about the darn cameras. I went back through his drawers until I found some drawstring pajama pants.

  “What was the second thing?” I asked, moseying back toward the door.

  “Sleep on the left side of the bed.”

  I cocked my head. “Why?”

  “Because when I crawl into bed with you, I don’t want to accidentally bump into your injured side.”

  My jaw dropped. “I’m—The point of me going downstairs is for me to sleep alone.”

  “That’s your point.”

  I glared at him. “This is how you are. Give you an inch and you try to take a mile. You’re just like a lawyer!”

  “I am a lawyer.”

  “See!”

  “Come to bed.”

  I stood between the bed and the door trying to decide what to do until I started to feel ridiculous. Finally, I padded over to the bed and climbed in.

  “It doesn’t mean anything,” I mumbled stubbornly.

  “No,” Bryn said, pulling me closer to him and pressing a kiss to my hair. “Doesn’t mean a thing.”

  Chapter 21

  I woke to the sound of Bryn’s voice. He was talking quietly into the bedside phone.

  “I have meetings, but I’ll try to make it to your office before five,” Bryn said and hung up.

  “Who was that?”

  He rolled so that his body was pressed along my right side. His dark blue eyes scanned my face. “Why are you awake?”

  “Light sleeper. Who was on the phone?”

  “The mayor.”

  I turned my head to look at the clock. “He calls you at midnight?”

  “My side feels better. How about yours?” he asked.

  “Yeah, it’s way better,” I said, moving gingerly. A faint ache, a little throbbing. Nothing terrible. It made me wonder: how could being involved with Bryn be wrong when it always seemed to do me such good? Also, how could I trust what my family said about him when they’d lied to me about the most basic and important stuff, like who I was and who in my family was alive and wanted to meet me? Maybe Lenore’s list was a lie, too.

  He bent his head and ran his tongue over my lower lip, making my belly tighten and goose bumps rise along my arms.

  “Does every inch of you taste like honey?”

  “Not that I know of,” I said, trying too late to catch his hand before he pulled my T-shirt up. “Doubt it,” I added, exhaling slowly as he ran his tongue along my right ribs. I shivered, gripping his shoulder as I arched.

  His mouth closed on my breast, teasing me slowly. It was as if he were saying, “Let me show you how it can be between us.”

  I didn’t stop him. I didn’t want to.

  He treated foreplay like it was the main event. Well, I guess he turned it into the main event for me . . . more than once.

  Sometime later, I stretched,
his hair brushing my thigh as he moved up. He bit my earlobe, his breath coarse and full of need.

  “Is it finally your turn?” I murmured.

  He answered with his body, and the magic that he’d been holding back broke over us in waves. We were more than flesh and bone. The night and the dawn seemed to crack open, pulses of light, then falling shadows, in an ancient rhythm that was human . . . and not.

  Afterward, he made no attempt to untangle us, and neither did I.

  I stroked his hair, so irresistibly silky. “It’s no wonder.”

  “What?”

  “That Gwen’s so determined to get you back.” There was an edge to my voice, something vulnerable.

  He raised his head to look at me. “Is that a question, Tamara? Are you asking me if it was like that with her?”

  “No. I mean—that’s none of my business.” I shrugged, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t holding my breath, waiting to hear what he’d say next.

  Bryn smiled. “But you wouldn’t mind me telling you?”

  Was he reading my mind? If so, why couldn’t I read his? “No, I wouldn’t mind. At least I don’t think I would.”

  “Gwen was—adventurous in bed. It was—”

  Adventurous?! Translation: slutty.

  “Never mind,” I said, suddenly trying to untangle my legs from his.

  He grabbed me to keep me from slipping away. “What I had with her will never compare to what I’ll have with you.”

  I went still. “How do you know?”

  “Because I was here tonight. You and I cross the boundaries between the physical and metaphysical worlds. Effortlessly and without words. We haven’t done any rituals or special ceremonies, no elaborate spells.” His hand found mine, and he laced our fingers together. “The way we are together transcends will. It just is.”

  I smiled. Yeah, what we had felt pretty special.

  Then a faint sound, or maybe just the echo of a sound, made me turn my head toward it. Prickly magic poked my fingertips. I jumped.

  “What’s that?” I squirmed, untangling us.

  Bryn had turned his head, too. “You felt it?” he asked, climbing out of bed.

  I flicked on the light. “I felt something.”

  “Someone’s crossed the wards.”

  We both pulled clothes on, and he took a gun out of the nightstand.

  “Only one gun in there?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he said and held it out to me.

  I raised my eyebrows as I took it.

  “I’m better with magic than guns. You’re better with guns than magic.” He took my free hand and led me to the door.

  I smiled to myself. Two weeks ago when the town was under attack by werewolves, he’d wanted to put me in a vault for safekeeping. Now, he was taking me with him. This was another taste of what I could have with Bryn. Well, what I could have with him if we survived.

  My heart thumped faster in my chest as we hurried down the stairs. I could see that the front door was open. I looked to the right toward the kitchen and then left to the long hallway that led to many rooms. There were so many places for an intruder to hide.

  Bryn tugged my hand, signaling that we were heading to the kitchen. Even with some of his magic still coursing through my body, I couldn’t sense whatever it was that he felt. I stayed light on my toes, trying to be silent.

  Blood raced through my veins. I nodded at the light switch, but Bryn shook his head. He drew me to the wall where a security phone hung. He picked it up and waited. I could hear the ringing. Where was Steve?

  A clicking of footsteps made me whirl to the kitchen door. It took me a moment to realize that the woman in the doorway was Gwen. Her nose was double its normal size, her whole face bruised and swollen.

  “Bryn, I needed to see you. I have something for you,” she said, her voice muffled from her nose being plugged. She turned on the light, and the moment she saw me, she went rigid.

  “No,” she said. “How? What are you doing here?” Whatever she’d had in her hand, she dropped into her pocket. When she brought her hand back out, she raised it toward me. Bryn moved in front of me.

  “What is it, Gwen?” he asked, calm, as if I hadn’t thrown on his clothes to cover the fact that I’d been naked five minutes ago. I maneuvered the gun so the barrel peeked out from next to Bryn’s body.

  “Look,” she said, then she shook her head. “I have something you’ve always wanted, but to get it, you have to give her up. That’s the bargain.”

  “You don’t have anything that I want more than her,” Bryn said.

  I smiled. Sometimes he says the exact right thing at the exact right time. Must have been the lawyer in him, and, for once, I didn’t mind.

  “Is that so,” she asked in a venomous voice. “She’s more important than heritage, than family? More important than what you destroyed your life for?”

  “What are you talking about?” he asked slowly.

  “Your plaything doesn’t know anything about it, does she? You can’t confide in her. Good for a quick shag, but the brilliant Bryn Lyons with a brainless twit? Who are you kidding?”

  I flinched, reeling from the insecurities that came bubbling up.

  “Tammy Jo? Even her name is ridiculous. I notice you don’t call her by it.”

  I glared at her, thinking I’d liked it better when she was just trying to kill me.

  Bryn shook his head. “I can’t make you understand it.”

  “Clearly.” She licked her lips. “I’ve made a report, Bryn, about how she attacked me. Not the first Conclave member she’s tried to kill, am I? You know how it’ll end for her. Badly.”

  My finger itched to pull the trigger. I gritted my teeth against the urge. I didn’t want to kill her in cold blood. If she would just attack me with something besides words, I’d be all set . . .

  “She’s marked now.” Gwen turned.

  “We’ll see. Now, what about the past?” Bryn asked and I hated that he cared about whatever she was talking about. I hated that he was still talking to her, period.

  “I’ll give it to you when she’s dead,” she said before she walked casually out the door.

  I lowered the gun, although my legs twitched, anxious to chase her down the hall so my arm could shoot her in the back. Or the front. My fury wasn’t too picky.

  Mercutio’s yowl from outside the kitchen made me snap my head to the left, toward the back lawn. I saw a figure outside and the glint of light off of the gun that was pointed at us through the back window. I swung my gun around and shoved Bryn aside. The window shattered, and Bryn’s body jerked when the bullet hit him.

  I squeezed the trigger and saw the figure on the lawn stumble and turn to run. It wasn’t Gwen.

  I leaned over Bryn.

  “I’m all right,” he said, holding his arm. Blood streamed down the back of it. I pried his fingers away, so I could see the wound. The bullet had made a centimeter-deep channel through his flesh, but it was just a nasty graze.

  I crossed the kitchen and yanked the back door open. I charged outside, tripping the motion detectors so that the extra floodlights blazed on. I surveyed the area, not seeing him. My eyes studied the woods, looking for any movement.

  “What the hell?”

  Several feet away, Merc yowled at me and then turned and ran toward the water. I rushed after him. A boat’s motor buzzed to life. I raced to the dock as it pulled away. I saw Scarface leaning over the wheel and raised my gun, shooting at the boat and hitting it, but not slowing it down. In seconds, I was out of bullets and he was out of range.

  My hot breath fogged the cold air as I panted and walked back to the house. I saw Bryn kneeling in the sunroom. What was he doing?

  I pulled the door open and realized he was leaning over a body. A body in navy blue dress slacks and blazer.

  “Oh, no! Steve!”

  Chapter 22

  I dropped to my knees, slamming the gun on the ground as my heart hammered. “Where? Where’s he shot? Damn them.”


  Bryn held up a tranquilizer dart. “This was in his shoulder.”

  “Oh,” I said, melting with relief. “I’ve been shot with a couple of those. He’ll be all right. It’s a knockout drug is all.”

  Bryn stared at me.

  “He’ll be all right,” I repeated, standing up. “Help me put him on the couch. We’ll cover him with blankets. He can sleep here until it wears off.”

  “He’s barely breathing.”

  “Yeah, that happens. It’s actually kind of helpful if you’re buried alive.” I put a hand under one of Steve’s bulky arms. Bryn did the same and we hauled him onto the softer surface. I covered him with the throw blankets, then looked Bryn over. There was still blood dripping from his wound and his skin had taken on a faint bluish cast from the cold.

  “Let’s get you inside,” I said.

  Bryn studied Steve and rechecked his pulse. “I’m going to call the paramedics.”

  “Okay. You’ll have to think up a story then. And you’ll have to make a police report since you’ve been shot.”

  “I’ll say it was an intruder. Didn’t get a good look at him.”

  “Shot you with bullets, but your security guard with a tranquilizer dart? That’ll seem odd.”

  “That is odd.”

  “For a regular kidnapper or thief, yes. For a Conclave minion?” I said, shrugging. “Knock out the human. Kill the wizard. It was Scarface. Before, I thought he might’ve been hired by DeeDAW even though he seemed too polished for them, but now I know he doesn’t work for them.”

  “You think he was with Gwen?”

  “Nope. He shot you, not me.”

  “He might have been aiming for you.”

  “No, I saw him. You were his target. Plus he could’ve killed me twice before if he’d wanted to. He tranquilized me. Why? Has to be that I’m not his target. Maybe he just wanted me out of the way.”

  “So he’s Barrett’s man then. The president brought an official entourage and an unofficial one.” Bryn rubbed his arm, and I grabbed his elbow and tugged him to the door. The house was nice and warm. I took him to the kitchen and scrubbed his wound with soap and water, then wrapped a towel around it. He winced, but didn’t complain.