Free Spirit: Book Two of The Bound Spirit Series

by H. A. Wills

  What is it with them talking about me like I’m not standing here?

  He continues, “And yeah, she’ll continue to keep feeling it, but she already knows pain. At least this time it will be because she’s protecting herself.”

  “Is it?” Kaleb’s eyes narrow. “Sounds more like ego. Teach her how to break holds and where to hit so she can get away. Staying around to beat up someone who’s likely to be significantly bigger than her is just foolhardy.”

  “She won’t have to stick around after she’s broken a guy’s knee or crushed his larynx,” Donovan growls and starts squaring his shoulders in a way that makes him look even bigger.

  Oh for fuck’s sake. “Anyone care what I think?” I pipe up, moving to stand between them.

  Kaleb’s expression immediately gentles as he looks down at me. “Of course we care what you think.”

  Donovan doesn’t speak, but he looks smug before I’ve even said anything.

  I sigh, focusing on Kaleb. “I’m sure Donovan will teach me how to escape someone who tries to grab me, but he’s right, I don’t want to learn just the bare minimum.” My jaw flexes as I grit my teeth, and the muscles in my back start to tense. “I refuse to be a victim again, and I want to make damn sure that anyone that tries to make me one regrets it. The pain I’ll experience training or fighting will be nothing compared to what I’ve already been through.”

  I fear I’ve said too much when I notice the haunted look in Felix’s hazel eyes and the concerned, calculating looks in the others, but I need them to understand. I don’t want to be broken anymore.

  Kaleb unfolds his arms and rests one of his hands on my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Callie. If this is what you want, I’ll support you. It’s just-- you’ve been through so much. I didn’t want your training to add to your pain.”

  The tension drains from my body looking up into his warm gaze, and I place one of my hands over his, my thumb making soft arcs against his skin. “I appreciate that, and it’s not like I’m looking for ways to cause myself unnecessary harm, but what I’ve been through in some ways has made me a lot stronger and more powerful than I look.”

  “More powerful is right,” Nolan jibes, running a hand through his hair. “Your magic is bound and you’re still summoning storms out of thin air and blowing up trees.”

  “Isn’t that normally where storms come from?” Felix jokes, coming back to himself. “The tree, the bonfire, and whatever the hell she broke inside the Whitaker’s house last night without trying. That’s impressive.”

  “Wait, Callie was the one who destroyed the Whitaker’s formal dining room table?” Nolan exclaims, trading his wide-eyed gaze between Felix and me.

  “That’s what I broke?” I cringe, a flush burning up my cheeks.

  Except for Nolan, the guys show varying degrees of amusement over my embarrassment, ranging from Donovan laughing to Kaleb’s attempt to swallow his smile.

  “It didn’t just break,” Nolan clarifies, resting his hands on his hips. “The thing imploded on itself, until it became really expensive kindling.”

  “Damn, pretty girl,” Felix chimes with a grin. “Remind me to never piss you off.”

  Groaning, I drop my head forward against Kaleb’s chest. His hand moves to the back of my neck, his fingers gently massaging the knotted muscles he finds there. Oh, that feels nice.

  “Her training might help with that,” Donovan comments, his gravelly voice coming from close behind me.

  Combined scents of musk and sandalwood tease my nose, making me feel like I’ve wandered down the men’s cologne aisle. However, under Kaleb’s semi-distracted ministrations, I’m caring less that they’re once again talking around me. I’m vaguely curious what Connor thinks about all of this, but not enough to pull away and look.

  “Help how?” Nolan asks, the words serious, but the sultry purr of his voice softens the edges.

  My friends are good looking, smell nice, and have voices that can melt a girl’s bones. That’s just not fair.

  “Magic wants to live or whatever,” Donovan answers flippantly. “So these flare-ups probably have something to do with trying to protect Callie. If she already knows how to protect herself, maybe her magic will stop going ape shit.”

  I feel Kaleb’s words through his chest as he comments, “I hadn’t considered that. I knew her magic flared up with her emotions, but you’re suggesting some type of mental connection with her magic that takes into consideration how Callie feels about the situation.”

  I should probably be saying something, but I’m a bit distracted. The way my head is resting, I have a great view of Kaleb’s six pack, as well as the defined Adonis belt leading into the pants hanging low on his hips. Should probably not be ogling him like this. My fingertips tingle at my sides. Definitely shouldn’t touch.

  “I do think with more than my fists on occasion,” Donovan scoffs.

  “Are you sure about that?” Felix jokes. “Because your answer is literally Callie learning to hit things.”

  There’s a moment of silence that’s probably Donovan scowling or grinding his teeth, before he continues, completely ignoring Felix’s comment. “I don’t know how magic works outside what we got last night, but Mildred said Callie’s magic was trying to protect her, so if she can protect herself without magic--”

  “She won’t feel trapped or helpless, so her magic won’t have to step in to defend her,” Kaleb finishes. “Good idea. I’m sorry I doubted you.”

  Donovan replies with a grunt of dismissal.

  “What do you think about all of this, Callie love?” Nolan inquires, a hint of knowing in his voice.

  Shit, can he tell I’m checking out Kaleb?

  “Your guess is as good as mine,” I mumble, knowing I should probably move, but I’m not because-- neck massage. “It’s only been a week since I learned magic was more than trying to pull bunnies out of hats.”

  That earns a chuckle all around.

  A warm hand falls lightly on my lower back, and I get a whiff of spicy cologne with hints of fresh cracked pepper. “We should probably let them start their sparring sessions and work on getting you warmed up, so D can turn you into a tiny lethal weapon,” Nolan cajoles with humor.

  “She’ll be like the noisy cricket from Men in Black,” Felix chimes in.

  “Is there a movie you haven’t seen?” Donovan huffs.

  “What? Suicide Squad was awful, but I liked Will Smith in it, so I checked out some of his other movies,” he replies. “His early stuff is pretty good. Did you know he was a rapper before he was an actor?”

  With a quiet sigh, I pull away from Kaleb and stand up. When I notice all of the guys are looking at Felix with humoring, silent gazes, I answer, “I didn’t know that.”

  Felix flashes a smug ‘See, she’s interested in what I have to say’ face, which makes me smile.

  The rest of the guys shake their heads, before Kaleb and Donovan turn toward a wall with a variety of different swords. For the first time, I notice Donovan has a full back tattoo of black angel wings, the tips dipping below the waistband of his pants, and along his spine is the phrase, Omnem diem contere velut ultima. It’s shocking how I’ve missed it considering his indifference toward shirts.

  Without thinking, I run my fingers along the inked skin on his lower back, and all the boys freeze mid-motion. Realizing what I did, my face burns even hotter.

  “I’m sorry,” I stutter out. “I shouldn’t have just-- I mean, I didn’t realize you had-- it was surprising, and--”

  Donovan looks over his shoulder at me with an entertained quirk of his brow. “It’s fine, Callie. You can touch them if you want.”

  Somehow, I’m even more embarrassed by his permission, but with trembling hands, I trace my fingers along the lifelike feathers and the bold letters.

  “They’re beautiful,” I murmur, amazed that the wings look as if they’re pressed tight against his back, rather than ink on his skin. “How’d you get a tattoo artist willing to do work on someon
e our age?”

  “It wasn’t hard,” he chuckles. “Connor did them.”

  My gaze shifts to Connor, and with clear awe, I say, “I didn’t know you’re an artist. Your work is amazing.”

  He shrugs and subtly bobs his head, obviously uncomfortable over the praise. This new revelation only further highlights how little I know him despite how connected I feel. Holding my own secrets close, I was reluctant to try to pull them from him, but maybe I should. Would he tell me? Would he feel relief sharing his secrets with someone that has them too?

  I turn back to Donovan, so as to not further embarrass Connor, and ask, “What does the phrase mean?”

  There’s an instant heaviness in the air I don’t understand.

  Donovan clears his throat before answering, “It’s Latin and roughly translates to ‘Live each day as if it’s the last.’”

  “Oh,” I utter, filing away to ask later what the feeling in the room is all about-- possibly Nolan, since I notice he also has a tattoo on his upper right shoulder, though I can’t make out what it is.

  Taking in Donovan’s tattoo, I decide I’m already various shades of embarrassed red, might as well go all out. “Since I’m new to the whole supernatural thing, I’m sorry if it’s rude to ask but-- well, I only saw them a split second and was, you know, reeling from the whole ‘hey, supernaturals are real!’ thing, so I didn’t really get...”

  Donovan sighs. “Spit it out, Callie.”

  I swallow heavily, glance over at Kaleb who has a quizzical look bunching his features, and say like it’s one long word, “Can-I-see-your-wings?” Then add in case it wasn’t obvious, “Both of you.”

  Kaleb looks stunned for a moment, his brows high. He simply blinks at me, while Donovan shrugs with indifference. Their reactions don’t help with the, ‘Is it polite to ask supes to show their supe-ness?’ I wonder if there’s a book on supernatural etiquette somewhere.

  “Sure,” Donovan replies, rolling his shoulders. “You might want to back up.”

  “Yes, of course,” Kaleb adds a split second later, his features once again smooth and pleasant.

  I take a few steps back, and wonder if I asked Nolan, would he tell me if I performed a supernatural faux pas. Donovan doesn’t seem to care what people think. Kaleb might try to spare my feelings. Connor would probably just stare at me. As for Felix, I don’t know if he would know one way or the other.

  Between one breath and the next, both of their wings appear as if they’ve always been there, but only now I’m allowed to see them.

  The natural light dances across Donovan’s heavy, black wings, creating an iridescent array of metallic purples, greens, and blues. He spreads his wings wide, like he’s stretching out limbs that haven’t been used in a ` while-- the muscles of his back bunching and flexing with the movement, before settling back in place, his tattoos looking like shadowed markers for the real things.

  Whereas Donovan’s wings look as if they were dipped in oil, Kaleb’s shine with a pearlescent light mixed with gold. Contrasted against his dark sepia skin, they practically glimmer with brilliant radiance under the morning light. Despite their four-inch height difference, Kaleb’s wings look similar in size to Donovan’s, arching high above his head with the tips dipping to the middle of his calves.

  As they stand side by side with their backs facing me, I’m struck dumb by their beauty. I’ve literally seen Connor turn into a wolf, so I don’t understand why it’s this moment that the weight of my new reality strikes me, but it does. Maybe last night was too much for me to take everything in, because now I feel an overwhelming wave of awe and understanding that the world is very different than what I knew-- and I can’t go back. It’s like the past week I’ve been so knee-deep in trying to figure out this new reality that I’ve only now had the chance to step back and really take it in. It’s both magnificent and humbling. My friends aren’t human. I’m not human.

  The air is filled with the dry scent of sweet hay and autumn leaves-- the smell of real feathers. I approach Kaleb, transfixed by the reality of what I’m seeing, and he rolls his shoulders, his wings shifting with the gesture. Fine semi-plume feathers follow the lines of where the bones of his wings meet his back, the joint looking as if it’s covered in crushed pearls. I can feel the others’ eyes on me as they pretend they’re talking to each other, but it’s as if I’m wrapped in a bubble-- the outside world patiently waiting for my return.

  I reach up, my hand hovering inches above his right wing, and hesitantly ask, “May I touch them?”

  He nods, just a subtle shift of his head, before clearing his throat and answering, “Yes... you may.”

  I gingerly trace my fingers along the contour feathers I can reach, careful to go with the grain. They’re soft and warm with a smooth texture toward their tips. Kaleb shivers under my touch, his wings fluffing in response.

  I ignore the coughed snickering from the others and quietly ask, “Is this okay?”

  He turns his head, part of his profile visible between his wings, and murmurs, “It’s fine… I just-- no one’s touched my wings since I was a child.”

  “Oh,” I breathe, starting to chew on my lip. Heat crawls up my neck. “So this is… is this something...?”

  Kaleb chuckles, the sound like a gentle roll of thunder in the distance. “It really is okay. Even though Twin Cedar Pass has a somewhat substantial supernatural population, we’re still outnumbered by humans and have to be careful when we show our wings. They’re harder to explain away than a large wolf or someone with fangs.”

  “Hey, I resemble that remark,” Nolan rebukes good-naturedly, “and I’ll have you know, I work hard to keep these babies under wraps.” His statement is accompanied by a sharp smile and a flash of needle like incisors.

  Well, I’ve officially seen it all. It’s like the world’s most bizarre show and tell.

  “If you’re done wing fondling, we should probably get to work,” Donovan drawls, his smirk hinting that Kaleb might be downplaying the whole wing-touching thing.

  I’m pretty sure my blush has spread all the way down to my toes. Clearing my throat, I step back and work to keep my expression blank. Just because I feel like I want to crawl into the nearest hole doesn’t mean I have to show it.

  Like before, their wings vanish from sight, and they both continue toward the wall of swords, though Kaleb looks more pensive and Donovan a whole hell of a lot more amused than before.

  Great, I get to add awkward supernatural levels to my already challenging ‘how do physical interactions with friends work?’ I’m still stuck on hugs and hand holding!

  Connor looks apathetic to the interaction, perhaps because he likes it when I pet him as a wolf and doesn’t really see the difference. In retrospect, I appreciate that it appears not to be a big deal that I pet him, since I didn’t really ask for permission. Definitely need to find an etiquette book. In his typical fashion, he simply nods at me before heading toward the treadmill near one of the bay windows to start warming up.

  As Donovan searches the wall of ridiculous weaponry, he calls over his shoulder, “I left my phone upstairs. Anyone got the music?”

  “On it,” Nolan replies, pulling his phone out of his pocket and waving it in the air.

  “Thanks, man.” He turns back and suggests offhandedly to Kaleb, “Maybe you should try something else. Whole wall of choices.”

  Kaleb looks over at him slyly. “I plan to.”

  While they debate the finer points of their weapon choices, Nolan walks a few feet away where there’s a mini fridge, shelves of white towels, and a music dock on a shelf of its own. He thumbs at the screen a few times on his phone then places it in the dock. Through the entire gym comes the sound of a singing violin to a heavy dubstep beat. I’m unfamiliar with the music, but I like the juxtaposition between the light, sweet quality of the classical instrument against the grittier, heavy beats.

  Music in place, he heads back over to me and asks, “Ready?”

  “Yep,” I a
nswer brightly, very much ready to do something that doesn’t make me blush.

  With a hand on the base of my spine, he leads me toward an empty area between the exercise equipment, Felix trailing after us. As we walk, I can’t help looking over my shoulder at Kaleb and Donovan retrieving their weapons of choice.

  With his right hand, Kaleb grabs a silver sword about four and a half feet long from rounded tip to blunted pommel that has about a six-inch cross bar, and with his left hand, a dagger the length of my forearm, which he holds like an ice pick.

  “The dagger? That’s not actually different if you’re still going to use the longsword,” Donovan grumbles.

  “It’s been a while since I practiced one-handed,” Kaleb retorts, a knowing smile on his lips. “And it’s not like I can run around with a shield, so practicing using a dagger defensively is important.”

  Donovan rolls his eyes and reaches for a single katana about three and half feet long in a lacquered black sheath, with a gold hilt wrapped in black knotted leather. When he pulls the blade free, the metal casts dancing lights on the ceiling.

  As they make their way back to the open space beside the grey mat and look to ready themselves for their duel, Kaleb taunts, “Besides, I know you hate that I now have equal reach.”

  “Please,” he scoffs back. “Just thought that you might want to try something different-- challenge yourself.”

  “I’m good, thanks,” he fires back.

  Stopping mid-step, I blurt, “Uh, shouldn’t they be wearing protective gear or something?”

  Nolan looks behind us and rolls his eyes. “Yes, if they were sane, but Donovan is of the opinion that he won’t be in protective gear when he’s really fighting, so he shouldn’t get used to wearing it while training. Kaleb and I were at least able to talk him into mouth guards.”

  “At the risk of stating the obvious,” I reply with a skeptical squint, “swords are sharp and usually lead to stabbing or cutting. Why risk it, unless nephilim also heal super fast?”

  “They heal faster than humans, but not like you or Connor,” he replies casually, unknowingly answering one of my questions. “Their blades are intentionally dulled though. That’s why Kaleb’s longsword doesn’t come to a sharp point. Mostly, they earn fat bruises when they fuck up.”