by Talia Vance
“And Portia? She gives you what you want? Can you screw her brains out without having to worry about losing your soul in the process?”
“You don’t even know what you’re talking about.”
“I know what I saw.” Wind whips around my hair. My wind.
“Stop it.” Blake backs up a step, but his legs hit the bed frame. “I don’t want to fight you.”
“Why? Afraid I’ll kill you again?”
“Brianna.” Blake’s eyes plead as the wind picks up the clothes on his suitcase and flings them to the bed. The lamp on the nightstand smashes against the wall. “Stop.”
I lift my palm, stopping the wind as quickly as it started. Blue arcs of electricity spark between my fingers. It would be so easy to turn everything into a flaming ball of fire. To watch it burn. To end this once and for all.
Blake grabs my wrist. “Don’t.”
We both freeze, his hand searing my skin with the strange, sick chemistry that draws us together. His touch fills me with a different kind of fire, a flame that licks at my core and makes me want to melt into him.
“I hate you,” I say, but the sparks in my hands recede. My blood is still hot, charged with the heat of Blake’s touch. He closes the distance, and then his lips are on mine and his chest is against mine and his hands are on my shoulders and my waist and my hips. I kiss him back instinctively, my body responding to the call of his soul even as my brain screams for me to stop. His hands tangle in my hair, as he brings me down on the bed underneath him, pushing and pressing until his legs twine through mine and our bodies connect at every possible point. I claw at his bare back, lost in the electric heat of his touch as his hands move underneath my shirt, turning me to molten lava.
We are fire and fire.
The kiss is full of his anger and my anger, grasping for each other through the physical connection, feeding off each other. We shared our souls once, and my body aches to feel him again. I barely notice the silver thread of light that spins around us, getting faster and faster as Blake’s hips press into mine, as his kisses get wilder.
Yes.
Wind whips around us, urging us closer.
He wants me. I can take him for myself. I can bind Blake to me and never let him go.
The goddess in me urges me to do it. To take everything he once promised. To wield my power over him in a way he can never escape. While I still can.
The girl in me fights to the surface. Blake accused me of forcing the bond on him last time. I don’t want to feel Blake’s anger and resentment and bitterness, all of which will inevitably follow.
I don’t want to be bound to someone I can’t trust.
All at once, I understand exactly why Austin pushed me away last night. I thought I wanted Blake, but not like this. It’s not enough for Blake to want me. I need more. I need something Blake may never be able to give, bond or no bond.
It takes every bit of strength I possess to push against his shoulders and break the kiss. The silver thread of light dances around us still, but at least now he sees it.
“We have to stop,” I say.
Blake starts to protest, his lips moving back against mine. Then he notices the way the light folds around us and stops abruptly. He pushes off me, sitting up on the bed, his breath coming in quick gasps.
The wind dies first. After a few seconds, the silver light fades to nothing.
“You stopped it.” Blake lifts his hand, and for a second I think he is going to reach for me, but he jerks it back and runs his fingers through his hair instead. “Why?”
I scramble off the bed, retreating to relative safety of the wall by the door. “For someone who used to share my emotions, you don’t know me at all.” I need more than this physical connection. I need more than to feel his emotions as if they were my own. I need something Blake has never been able to give me.
I unclasp the silver necklace that Blake gave me for my birthday.
He doesn’t resist when I walk to the bed and take his hand. We both feel the heat that flows between our fingers, but this time we don’t act on it. His eyes are dark as I place the wolfsbane pendant in his palm closing his fingers around it.
“I never lied to you,” he says.
“It doesn’t matter.” Whatever we had, it wasn’t enough to make him trust me. I run my fingers through the layers of his hair, doing my best to smooth it back into place. “I’m sorry.”
I don’t know why I’m the one apologizing, but it feels like the right thing to say. I am sorry. I wish to God things could’ve been different for us.
He stands, and we’re so close, for a second I think he’s going to kiss me again. I drop my hand to my side and walk to the door before he gets the chance.
He doesn’t say anything when I leave his room. He doesn’t need to.
We both know this is goodbye.
NINETEEN
I’m halfway through the pub when I see Portia coming from the other direction. I can’t help wishing I had stayed in Blake’s room just a few more minutes. That I had let that kiss stretch a little longer. As it is, I feel a sick little twinge of pleasure when she sees me and her pretty amber eyes darken. I am a horrible person.
“You!”
“Me.” I smile. Let her wonder.
“Does Blake know you’re here?” She can’t hide the
panic in her voice.
“Yes.” I finger comb the snarl in my hair where Blake’s
hands had been. “Sorry if I ruined the surprise.” Portia’s eyes narrow. “You ruin everything you touch.” “Even Blake?” I let my meaning hang in the air. Portia’s beautiful face turns ugly when she’s angry, and
she’s angry a lot. “He’s over it.”
Her words hurt more than I want to admit, stinging
the open wound like salt water. “Is he?” I force a smile on
my lips. I don’t know why I want to hurt her. It’s not her
fault Blake wants her. Still, the little seed of doubt I plant
is nothing compared to what I could do.
But there’s no fire flowing under my skin. No ice
threatening to break free. No dark magic bursting to get
out.
Maybe I’m getting better at controlling it.
A fireplace near the far wall flares to life with blue
flame.
Maybe not.
I watch the fire grow, but I don’t feel it. At all. No. I should be able to feel it. I concentrate, but can’t
reach it. All I can do is pray it doesn’t spread and grow like
the fire at Mallory’s party.
Portia walks past me and disappears up the little staircase. The fire shrinks and dies behind her, but I still don’t
feel anything.
I reach for the embers. The fire doesn’t respond. I try for water, since it’s usually the easiest element for
me to access. I concentrate on filling my veins with ice,
a trick I’ve learned to do quickly, as a defense against the
Sons.
It should be right there.
But there’s nothing.
Austin said it would get harder to access my magic, but
I wasn’t expecting this. I can’t reach it at all.
Rhiannon, Shannon’s mom, walks to the table next to me to clear some glasses. She watches me through dark
eyes. “We don’t serve witches here.”
“Lucky for me I’m not a witch.” It might even be true
now. I laugh. I can’t help it.
Rhiannon crosses herself as I walk past her out the
door.
The sun makes an appearance for the first time in
days, casting everything in a warm glow. Austin paces in
the narrow street. He nearly jumps when he sees me step
outside.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
He smiles, but it looks forced. “Trying to keep myself
from running upstairs and dr
agging you out of his room.” “This was your idea.”
“It was a stupid idea.”
“The lamest. So what’s plan B?”
Austin steps closer, studying my face. “He said no?” “More or less.” It’s not like I asked, and it’s clear to me
now that I can’t. Blake and I are not getting back together.
We are not anything.
“Okay. We’ll find another way.”
“We have a bigger problem at the moment.” “Bigger than the fact that Liam is roaming the countryside in search of an army?”
I nod. “You were right about me losing my power. It’s
done.”
“Done?”
“One minute the elements were at my fingertips, as
strong as ever. And the next, there’s nothing.”
“That’s not how it’s supposed to work.”
“I don’t know how it’s supposed to work. I just know
how it is.”
Austin leads me to a black sports car I haven’t seen
before. He holds the door open for me and walks around
to the other side. He drives too fast for the narrow streets,
not slowing until we turn into the gates for Lorcan Hall. He drives past the house and stable, veering onto a dirt
road that heads toward the ocean.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“The gateway is the center of all power. It might be
easier for you there.”
We park at the head of the trail that leads down to
the beach. Austin grabs my elbow when I stumble on a
loose rock. He doesn’t let go until we reach the rocky beach
below, and then it’s only to take my hand as we navigate
through the boulders to the small beach on the other
side. The tide is out, but the water still spits and swirls
against the rocks nearby. I haven’t been here since I nearly
drowned. Even with the tide out, the beach feels too small.
I keep my back pressed firmly against the wall of the hillside, clinging to Austin’s hand.
Austin stops in front of the gateway. “Here.” “What now?”
“Concentrate.”
Austin disappears in a burst of gold. I feel a surge of
magic as he starts to reappear, but it’s Austin’s, not mine.
A black shadow forms inside the gold, shifting and turning until Austin takes shape in all his godly glory. I have to remember to breathe. There’s nothing vulnerable or flawed about Austin now. His crooked smile does nothing to mask the perfection of his high cheekbones and chiseled jaw as the golden flecks in his eyes glow. He’s so achingly beautiful that I want to look away, but I can’t. The plaid covering his waist and hips only serves to emphasize the smooth golden skin stretched tight along the muscles of his chest and stomach. He carries the ancient broadsword
in his right hand, but his left hand is extended out to me. I lift my hand to his, marveling at how human his skin
feels in spite of its brilliance. “Reach for the sea,” Austin
says, in a voice that covers me like crushed velvet. I close my eyes against his light and listen to the waves
as they crash against the rocks. My breathing gets shallow,
but my blood remains still. “Nothing. It’s gone.” Austin’s index finger brushes my lips for an instant.
“Never. Your power will diminish by halves until you can’t
feel it or call it, but a part will always remain. Make no
mistake about it, Brianna, you are magic.”
I open my eyes. “The theory of infinite smallness.” “What?”
“It’s a theory. So long as something has mass, it can
be halved, and halved again in perpetuity. It never really
disappears.”
“Smaller and smaller pieces?”
“Exactly.”
“So find a way to reach that piece inside you. Try
again.”
I close my eyes, concentrating on the sound of the waves. I can almost feel the water flowing in my veins, but whether it’s really there of just a memory, I can’t say. Austin
squeezes my hand lightly.
I inhale deeply. It’s not the sea that fills me, but something richer. Apples and spice and fire mix together in a
scent that is at once strange and familiar. I open my eyes
and all I see is Austin. He’s closer, but I don’t remember
moving toward him. His golden light is warm as it licks
against my skin and sends my nerves into overdrive. “Feel anything?” He asks.
Just you. I swallow. “I’m not sure.”
He leans closer, his breath dancing along my neck.
“When was the last time you felt your power?”
“In Blake’s room.”
“You used your magic against him?”
“Against his suitcase. And a lamp.” I shift my weight,
stretching toward Austin. He doesn’t try to stop me. If anything, he pulls me closer.
Austin grins. His lips are so close. “Poor lamp. That
was the last?”
I shake my head. I shouldn’t be embarrassed that
I kissed Blake, but I am. It wasn’t my finest moment.
Aggrieved ex-girlfriend gets revenge by making out. Austin’s lips are in my hair, as soft as his voice, a whisper. “When was the last time?”
He’s going to make me say it. I step away from Austin, biting my lip. “When Blake and I kissed. We nearly
bonded again.”
Austin drops my hands and steps away. The crease between his brows is a deep line, marring his golden face. He no longer looks like a god. He looks like something
altogether more dangerous.
“I stopped it.”
I don’t know if he hears me. There’s a brilliant flash of
gold light, and then nothing but spots in my eyes. “Austin?” By the time the spots clear up enough to
look around the beach, there’s no sign of him.
Just me and the rocks and the waves and the air. So
potent, but just out of reach.
TWENTY
I eat dinner in the kitchen by myself. According to Mick, Austin hasn’t come back to the house. Fine. I don’t want to argue with him right now anyway. He was the one who had the brilliant idea to send me to Blake’s room to prey on Blake’s supposed feelings for me. What did Austin expect?
Screw them both. On to Plan B. I take out the cell Mick gave me. It takes a few tries before I remember the number, but I finally do.
Joe answers on the second ring. “Hello.”
“Are you in Cath?”
“Might be. You?”
“I might be outside the bakery on Main Street at ten o’clock.”
“Tonight?”
“Will you come?”
“You should lay low.”
“I will.”
“Nah, you won’t. Don’t suppose I can do anything to change your mind though.”
“Thanks.”
Mick gives me the keys to the sedan with only a little prodding after I tell him I’m meeting Joe. The whole driving on the right side of the car is only weird for first few miles or so. By the time I get into Cath, I feel like I could get used to it.
The bakery is in the center of the block, making it easy to disappear into the shadowy alcove by the door, the street barely illuminated by the old fashioned gas lamps that dot each street corner, as the sun finally drops behind the building. It’s quiet except for peals of laughter that occasionally drift out of a pub a block over.
The air is damp even though we’re a few blocks from the ocean. If this is summer, I hate to think how cold winter must be. I hear footsteps approach before I can make out anyone in the darkness.
I peek around the corner, instinctively reaching for the wind, but find only the cold, impervious sky. The shadowy figure that approach
es is tall and thin, with hair teased even higher, the right shape for Joe, but I duck back into the alcove until I can be sure.
He stops in front of the bakery and looks into the window.
“Joe?” I whisper.
He turns and walks the rest of the way to me, his hands buried deep in the pockets of a long black coat that covers him to just below his knees. Joe nods toward the pub. “Drink? It’ll be warmer.” His voice is tinged with an Irish accent I haven’t heard before.
“I didn’t realize you had an accent.”
“It’s like a bad penny.”
I follow him across the street. We duck inside. The pub is about halfway full, and we make our way to an empty table in the back.
Joe surveys the restaurant twice. “You shouldn’t be out like this. Too risky.”
“Are they all coming here?”
Joe nods. “Friday.”
At least Blake didn’t lie about that. I have two days before the Sons descend on Cath. “Looking for me?”
“Nothing’s changed. They’re always looking for your kind.”
“Why did Blake come early?”
Joe takes out a cigarette from the red packet in his pocket. “Not much gets by you.” He stares at the thin cylinder, but doesn’t put it in his mouth.
“You don’t have to lie for him. I know about Portia.”
Joe’s irises get smaller, and I can’t escape the feeling that he’s looking through me. “You’re taking it better than I expected.”
“What did you expect me to do? Burn down the village?”
His cheeks redden.
“Oh my God, you did.” He really thought I would fly into some violent rage. “Give me some credit.”
He sticks the unlit cigarette between his lips. “I do. More than you likely deserve.”
“I couldn’t. Burn it down, I mean.”
“You damn well could.”
“No.” I turn my palms up. “I really couldn’t. My powers are gone.”
Joe orders a cup of coffee from a passing waitress. The quiet expression on his face never changes. He waits for me to continue. “And?”
“Did Blake ever tell you what happened that night he fought Austin on the beach in Del Mar?”
He shakes his head. “Just that you broke the bond.”
“It was more than that. Blake was dead.” It doesn’t get easier to say the words. “I killed him.”