Soulbound: A Lone Star Witch Novel

by Tessa Adams

  How could I not see it? How could I not know? I’d spent a lot of time with him in the last few days. How had I missed it so completely?

  I glance at Donovan and Salima, wanting to make sure they saw what I did. But neither of them looks alarmed as they scan the parking lot for I don’t know what. “Don’t you see him?” I hiss out of the side of my mouth. “Don’t you—”

  I don’t get the chance to finish. Before I can so much as take a deep breath, Kyle has pulled out a gun. He fires three shots.

  One goes wide.

  The second one slams into Donovan’s chest while the final one hits Salima’s stomach. They both crumple to the ground.

  I waste precious seconds staring at them in shock. Then I’m falling to my knees, desperately trying to call forth the magic that remains stubbornly out of my reach. I’m on the verge of hysteria now, but I try to tamp it back. Try to focus on my brother. On Salima. On saving their lives. Dear goddess. They were here because they were trying to save me and instead I should be the one saving them. But I can’t. I don’t have the power to do it.

  Desperate, knowing that it’s too little, too late, I fumble my cell phone out of my pocket. Dial 911. Before I can say anything, Kyle hits my hand, knocks the phone onto the ground where he crushes it beneath his boot. Then his hand is wrapped in my hair, his gun pressed against the side of my face.

  “Let’s go,” he mutters and he sounds as manic, as crazy, as he looks. I start to fight him, but he points the gun straight at my brother’s head. I am paralyzed by the certainty that he will kill Donovan.

  “Please,” I beg. “Don’t hurt him. Don’t—”

  He backhands me with the gun and my head slams against my shoulder. “Now you’ve got time for me,” he snarls. “Now you aren’t so wrapped up in that excuse for a warlock. You see me now, don’t you?”

  I force my aching jaw to move, to form the words he wants to hear. “I’ve always seen you.”

  “Bullshit. I was just some pesky fly buzzing around your head.”

  “Is that what this is about?” It doesn’t make sense. The first murder happened before I ever met Kyle.

  He laughs. “Don’t be so full of yourself, Xandra. You’re just a means to an end.”

  What does that mean? I start to ask, wanting to keep him talking long enough for me to come up with a plan to get us out of this. But my brain is frozen, the sight of Donovan and Salima on the sidewalk too horrifying to get past.

  But then I don’t have to say anything. I feel a prick on my arm, followed by a burning sensation. A strange lethargy overtakes me. My legs tremble. My breathing feels funny. My body is out of my control.

  He catches me right before I fall to the blood-soaked sidewalk.

  Twenty-seven

  I wake up slowly, with the overwhelming feeling that something is wrong, but I just can’t quite figure out what it is. I try to put my finger on it, but my brain is fuzzy. The last thing I remember is Kyle sitting on the hood—

  Kyle. Donovan. Salima. It all floods back at once. Panicked, I try to sit up, but I can’t move. Again. Except this time it’s not just magic keeping me in place. I’m actually strapped, spread-eagle, onto a black machine of some kind. It’s tilted so that my legs are higher than my head, the blood rushing downward so that there’s a throbbing behind my eyes.

  As everything registers, I go crazy. Become an animal, flailing and screaming and straining in an effort to get out. Even as I’m doing it, I tell myself to calm down. That I’m not helping anything. That I’m just making things worse.

  It doesn’t matter. I can’t stop. It’s too close to that time in my bedroom, too similar to all those rapes I’ve suffered through psychically. I want out. Now.

  Eventually, the panic recedes and exhaustion sets in. I quiet down, take deep breaths. Try to settle. As I do, I become aware—for the first time—that I am not alone.

  “Kyle?” My voice is hoarse, rusty from screaming and dehydration. I hate that I freaked out, hate even more that he saw me like that. It’s hard to be strong when your weaknesses have been on display for the world to see.

  “Hello, Xandra. Welcome back.” He moves closer to me, until he’s just inches away, and I long to lash out at him. To rip him to pieces. But the only part of my body I can move is my head and he’s standing by my feet.

  He has a knife in his hand and he’s turning it end over end, end over end, end over end. The motion is hypnotic, spellbinding, as—I think—he intends it to be. I can see all those women, their bodies cut to hell and back, and I know that however this ends up, it isn’t going to be good for me.

  And then suddenly he’s moving, slashing the knife across my upper thigh in a shallow but painful cut. I bite my lip to keep from screaming. He’s already seen me lose it once and I have no doubt I’ll lose it again before this is over. But not yet. Not yet.

  As I lie there, bound, helpless, waiting to see what he’ll do next, I feel the blood trickle up my thigh to my abdomen and that’s when I realize something else.

  I’m completely naked.

  That’s when I start to scream again. Not out loud, not where the sick fuck can hear me and get satisfaction from it, but deep in my head on a psychic plane.

  Xandra! Declan’s voice snaps through the hysteria, grabs my attention. Where are you?

  I don’t know.

  Look around. See if you can figure—

  Kyle slices at me again, this time drawing a line across my abdomen. It burns. He follows it with a shorter, deeper cut to the fleshy part of my left arm, right above the elbow.

  I bite my lip until it bleeds to keep from showing him the pain. Inside my head, I can hear Declan demanding that I answer him. He sounds nothing like he usually does. His normal cool, sardonic attitude has been replaced by a panicked rage that mingles with my own.

  But all that emotion inside my head makes it hard to think. I slam a door between us, try to lock him out. Not for good, but just enough that I can think. I can’t get through this if I feel his emotions too. Besides, he doesn’t need to live through what’s about to happen. I’ve been on the other end of this and it isn’t much better than actually having it happen. In some ways, it might even be worse.

  “I don’t understand,” I tell Kyle, when I finally find the strength to unclench my jaw. “Why are you doing this?”

  “Don’t worry.” He smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes, which still look just a little off. “It’s nothing personal.”

  “It feels personal.”

  He lashes out, makes another cut on my leg, this one shallow and long. I jerk despite myself. “Hurts, doesn’t it?” He does it again on the other leg. That’s five cuts. I think of the women I found. Only seventy-six cuts left to go if he stays on pattern. The thought is as enraging as it is terrifying.

  “If you keep this up, you’ll lose everything. My family won’t stop until they know who did this and the Council will have to—”

  “The ACW will do nothing!” Another slash across my abdomen, but higher this time.

  “You know that’s not true. My family will demand—”

  “Your family. Your family. Do you think I give a shit about your family? Do you think the Council does? Who do you think put me up to this?”

  It takes a moment for his words to sink in, and even after they do, I replay them in my mind again and again, trying to make sense of what’s going on. He can’t be saying what I think he is.

  “The Morgans. The Morgans. The Ipswitch throne.” He says the words mockingly. “Do you have any idea how tired we are of hearing about you guys? About all your power? About how important you are? I don’t give a shit how important, how untouchable you are.” He clamps a hand down on my thigh, over the first cut. Squeezes until all the willpower in the world can’t keep me from crying out.

  “I’m touching you now, aren’t I? And there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.” And then the real horror begins as he slides his hand to my inner thigh and then up—

&nbs
p; I jerk, twist, kick out in an effort to make him stop. He finally does, then lashes out with the other hand. A quick slice of the knife across my ribs.

  I swallow back the pain, wait until the light of madness fades from his eyes a little. Then ask, “What did you mean when you said the Council put you up to this?” He wants to talk, I can see it. Wants to tell me how brilliant he is. And I want to know. Just in case I get out of this. And even if I don’t. I want to know how deeply we’ve been betrayed.

  “It’s the perfect solution. Even more perfect than the soulbinding, because Declan won’t be able to use his will to run away from this. When he’s blamed for the murders of five women, including the precious, precious seventh daughter of Ipswitch, it won’t matter how much power he has. He’ll be weak from losing you, his magic and soul adrift without your connection, and they’ll strike then. They’ll strip him of every bit of his magic and your parents will lead the charge.”

  “You won’t be able to frame him for this.”

  “I already have. Even you, who are soulbound to the man, believed he was guilty. The ACW wants him to be guilty. Believe me, by the time they’re done with him, no one will be looking too closely. They’ll be too busy demanding his blood.”

  He lashed out again. A quick, deep slice across my breast. I did scream then. I hadn’t been ready for it.

  “Tsk, tsk, Xandra. I expected better from a princess.”

  “And I expected better from a Council bodyguard. I guess we’re both doomed to disappointment.”

  That pisses him off and he plunges the knife into my thigh, twisting it so that the wound will bleed copiously. This is it. I know it. I can see it in his eyes, feel it in his hands as they squeeze my breasts.

  I am going to die.

  I think I knew we were headed here all along, from that very first body. But this plan, this determination to use me and my family to destroy Declan…it breaks my heart. Hell, it just breaks me.

  I can’t let him do it. Declan, who I’ve been so cruel to. Who I haven’t trusted. Who I was ready to accuse, more than once, of brutal, vile murder. I can’t let him go down for this. For murdering all those women and Donovan and Salima. And me. My parents, with the help of what looks to be a very corrupt Council, will wipe him off the face of the earth.

  The thought galvanizes me and I renew my struggles, though I know they will do no good. But I can’t just lie here and die, not when Declan is at risk. Not when—

  Another slice of the knife.

  Then another.

  And another.

  Kyle unbuckles his belt.

  Slashes at me once again with the knife.

  Pulls his belt loose from his jeans.

  Cuts me again.

  Then slaps the belt, buckle side down, against my abdomen.

  I scream and deep inside myself I feel power welling up. Power like I’ve felt only once before—when I was making love to Declan. It’s huge, raw, unimaginable.

  Some of it is mine. I know it. I can feel it. But most of it is Declan’s. I may have locked him out of my mind in an effort to save him my pain, but I haven’t locked him out of my soul. Bound as we are, I’m not even sure such a thing is possible.

  I close my eyes and open my mind, let him pour into me. Through me. I’ll take as much of his power as I can if it means saving him from the fate the ACW has in store for him.

  I can feel Declan inside of me now, can feel him searching for an outlet. Searching for a way to get to Kyle. I open my eyes, look straight at Kyle, and suddenly, he has one.

  Power explodes out of me. It slams into Kyle, throws him across what I realize for the first time is a stage. At the same time, it rips away the ropes binding me and sends them hurling away from me as well.

  Adrenaline races through me, mingles with the power surge, and I push myself off of the strange machine I’ve been tied to. I look around and for the first time realize I’m in the Paramount Theater, back where so much of this began. Deep inside, I feel Declan register this and know that he’s coming for me.

  But Kyle is back on his feet and coming toward me, murder in his eyes. I throw a hand out, try to wield the power flowing through me the same way I’ve seen Declan do. It doesn’t work though—it’s not my power—and Kyle figures this out pretty quickly.

  Then he’s running across the stage straight at me.

  I scramble backward but my injured leg is unsteady at best. Add in the blood on the floor, and I go flying, landing on my ass with a painful thud. He’s on me then, his hands wrapped around my throat as he squeezes and squeezes and squeezes.

  Things are going gray, but I fight him anyway. I buck and kick beneath him, claw at his hands. But he’s gone completely mad and I know this is it. My last chance.

  I reach a hand out, search frantically for a weapon. But there’s nothing around us. Nothing but the knife Kyle dropped several feet away as he dove for me.

  Panicked, I reach for it, but of course it’s too far away to do me any good. Not expecting it to work, but desperate enough to try, I mutter the words to a simple retrieving spell my mother used to use.

  It works. The knife flies across the room and into my hand. I don’t think, don’t plan. I just react. Rearing up, I plunge it straight into Kyle’s back. Pull it out and plunge it in again one more time. He rolls off of me, lifts a hand to finish me off with magic. But I’m ready for him and I lunge, slicing his jugular wide open.

  He’s dead in seconds.

  Shuddering, I drop the knife, then crawl away from him. He’s dead, I know he’s dead, but I can’t stand to be near him. I need to find a phone, need to—

  One of the doors of the theater crashes open and Declan rushes in. “Are you all right?” he shouts as he races through the front of the house. I stretch out on the stage, dizzy from blood loss and residual terror. And then he’s there, scooping me onto his lap so he can rock me in his arms.

  “Thanks for the help,” I tell him, glancing up at his face. I owe him an apology for thinking the worst of him, but the words get lost in the tears I see burning in his eyes.

  “I almost lost you,” he murmurs, pressing kisses to my head and cheek and eyes and lips. “I almost lost you.”

  “Only because I didn’t trust you. I thought—”

  “The way you found me was pretty damning,” he says with a shrug. “I’ve been using my power to try to monitor as much magic usage as I could in the Austin area. I felt something last night and rushed to UT, trying to get there in time to save that girl. And catch the killer. I was too late.” He says the last like all of this is his fault.

  “You saved me.”

  He shakes his head. “You saved yourself.”

  “I couldn’t have done it without you. I’m so sorry.”

  “You should be. You scared a century off my life.” He cups my face in his hand, brushes his thumb over my lips. “Don’t ever do this to me again.”

  I snort. “I can’t exactly control whether or not a madman comes after me.”

  “Yeah, well, you can try.” He puts a hand on my leg, on the really bad cut that is leaking blood all over. Within seconds, I feel it getting warmer and know that he is healing me.

  I look around. “We need to call the police.”

  “Nate is on his way.”

  I gasp. “My brother. Salima.”

  “Already at Brackenridge Hospital. A student at UT found them, phoned it in. They’re both in surgery as we speak.”

  I relax back against him. “So what happens now?”

  “Now the ambulance comes and takes you to the hospital. Once you’re cleaned up, I’m sure the police will want to ask you some questions.”

  I nod, though he’s not telling me anything I don’t already know. “I meant with us,” I told him. “And the Council. You know they did this.”

  “I had already figured that out, though hearing it out loud makes it more real.”

  And more awful. Anger crawls through me as I think of the group that sentenced Declan and
me to death—not to mention lives filled with misery—simply because they could.

  I feel the fear start to slip back in, but then Declan’s arm is around me, his breath a scant few centimeters from my ear. “They’re not going to win,” he tells me.

  “Oh, yeah?” It’s my turn to raise my eyebrows. “And how do you figure that?”

  “Because we won’t let them.”

  “The curse?”

  “Fuck the curse. And the ACW. I’m keeping you.”

  “And I’m keeping you.” I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him in for a kiss. The road in front of us is a messy one. Filled with problems and uncertainties and what I have no doubt will turn into a war against the ACW. It should terrify me, but as I sit here in Declan’s arms, surrounded by his strength and his feelings for me, I’m not even nervous. Not when I know that cursed or not, we’ll find a way to make things right.

  We’ll find a way to be together.

  As Nate rushes in, paramedics and police officers at his heels, I rest my head on Declan’s chest and wait for whatever comes next.

  About the Author

  Tessa Adams lives in Texas and teaches writing at her local community college. She is married and the mother of three young sons.

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