Unbound

by Лори Девоти

  It was cold tonight, but not unbearably, not like the night she’d met Risk, seen the dogs. She took her time, stopping to pick up a dry maple leaf, the edges curled toward each other.

  Once she opened the front door and stepped inside, heard whatever it was Risk wanted to tell her, she had a feeling her life was going to change forever.

  By the time Risk stepped inside the house, Kara had already started a fire in the brick fireplace and was walking into the living room, a bottle of whiskey in one hand and two glasses in the other. Her feet were bare and her hips swayed back and forth as she padded toward him. He paused, tension curling like a fist inside him.

  “Whiskey?” She held out a glass.

  He shook his head.

  With a shrug, she set the glasses down on an old chest that served as a coffee table, and filled one with the amber liquid. “No reason to be stingy, right? Might make what you’re going to tell me easier to swallow.” She held the glass up to the fire, watched the flame flicker through it for a second, then tilted it to her lips. After a long swallow, she set the half-empty glass back down. “Okay, let’s talk.”

  She was acting brave, but the room was heavy with her anxiety. Risk stalked toward her, her emotion pulling at him. As he neared the table where the bottle of liquor sat, he stopped. He had to keep a clear head. Concentrate on convincing her to help him in trade for finding her sister.

  He reached for the bottle and sloshed whiskey into the second glass. Then waited.

  She shot him a curious look, then wandered to the couch and sat down, her legs crossed in front of her, the whiskey glass balanced on one knee.

  “So, am I crazy?” she asked.

  He sniffed his glass; the sharp scent of pine mixed with almonds assaulted him. He sat the glass down, turned to face her. “Crazy?”

  “Yeah. Crazy.” She took another sip of her drink. “You know that first night. The dogs? You only said you saw them, too. Never explained how I got to your house, escaped the giant helleyed canines. That alone is crazy, right? Why am I even here with you — a stranger. You said you’d help and I jumped on it. A week after my sister disappears, I trust a complete stranger. That alone’s crazy, right?” She tossed the remaining liquid down her throat.

  “Then that woman tonight? I touched her. I did. And I saw things — saw her life, felt her joy, her peace, and finally her terror. I think…I think I saw her die.”

  Her eyes rounded; anxiety wafted off her. She glanced at Risk then down toward his untouched glass. Without a word, he picked it up and handed it to her.

  She took the whiskey, an almost imperceptible shake in her fingers.

  “Kara…” he began.

  She lifted the glass again, looked at him for a second over the half-circle of the rim, then closed her eyes and swallowed.

  “Kara. You’re not crazy.”

  “Really. Well, that’s a relief, I guess.” She laughed, a rough sound like snow crunching underfoot. “You know I hate dogs. I was almost killed by one when I was a kid. My best friend was killed that night. At first I just blamed that for everything weird I was seeing. Posttraumatic stress or something like that. It would make me see things, don’t you think?”

  She hated dogs. Watched her friend be killed by one. Risk pulled back at the revelation. How had she survived being attacked by not one but two hellhounds?

  “Risk?” Her voice startled him out of his thoughts. “You going to tell me what’s going on? You know, don’t you?”

  Risk glanced around, part of him wishing for an escape. He wasn’t used to talking to anyone longer than it took to let them know he held their life in his hands. But that wasn’t the conversation he wanted to have with Kara — ever. When he found her sister he’d have to face that conversation, too, but first he had to tell her something that would turn her world upside down, then get her to trust him — so he could use her in a task she might not survive.

  A shudder rippled through his body. Shaking his head, he flung the beginnings of guilt from his mind. She would have her sister, a chance at life — more than she would have had if he’d just taken her to Lusse; all in all, a more than fair exchange.

  He inhaled deeply. He had to do this. Even if he told her everything, she’d still choose to find her sister — no matter the cost. Why worry over details that really didn’t matter?

  Clinging to that thought, he shoved the whiskey bottle aside and lowered himself onto the coffee table. Elbows resting on his knees, he faced her. “Your sister. You said she wasn’t normal. And all those things in the basement — the statue, the athame, the rocks…You know what those are for?”

  She held her glass in front of her, leaving only her eyes fully visible.

  “Your sister, and that woman at the morgue. They have something in common. At least I think they do.”

  She lowered the glass slightly, moisture forming in her eyes. “You think Kelly is dead? Charred and dumped somewhere, like that woman?”

  “No. No. I mean. I think they were…are witches.”

  Kara stared at the man in front of her. A witch. Her sister? That woman in the morgue? She held her glass up to her nose and inhaled the soothing aroma of whiskey. Warm and familiar, just the scent calmed her. It was a constant in a world that suddenly seemed to shift with every step. She took a tiny sip, let it sit on her tongue.

  Kelly a witch. Was it possible?

  The dagger, statues and other strange objects her sister kept stored in the basement, plus the strange Web sites Kara had found bookmarked on Kelly’s PC — they all added up to something, something strange.

  Time to face facts.

  Taking in a shuddering breath, she replied, “I told you Kelly was…different. I guess I knew all along she believed in some strange stuff. So, she thought she was a witch — what’s the harm? Could be worse. She could think she was a vampire — or a werewolf. That would have been a nightmare, right?” She laughed. What a pair. A French poodle could send Kara into fits of terror and her sister, the sane one, had been practicing witchcraft in the basement.

  Risk blinked, a shadow of unease passing behind his eyes. God. He thought she was crazy, too.

  “I mean, so she burned some candles, chanted a little voodoo. That can’t have anything to do with her disappearing — or that other woman…” She let the words drop off, not sure how to even voice what had happened to the body she’d touched.

  “Kara.” Risk placed a hand on her knee. “Listen to me. I’m not saying your sister thinks she’s a witch. I’m saying she is a witch. And so are you.”

  Kara stared at the square masculine hand clasping her knee. Noticed the tiny blond hairs that dotted the top. She wasn’t sure which was more startling — the zing of awareness that shot through her at his innocent touch, or his words. He thought her sister and she were witches.

  “Kara.” He squeezed her knee lightly, gave it a tiny shake, then using his free hand, tipped her chin up until her eyes met his. “You’re not crazy and neither am I. You and your sister are both witches. That other woman in the morgue, she was too. And whoever/whatever killed her most likely has your sister now. We have to find her — fast.”

  Kara stared at him, absorbing the intensity in his eyes, the lines of his chiseled face. God. He was right. She’d been lying to herself. She’d known the truth as soon as she’d touched that woman’s hand.

  She was a witch. She sat for a moment, her eyes closed, her fingers digging into her thighs. The thought was boggling. Her body swayed slightly to the side; Risk’s hand on her chin was all that kept her from toppling over.

  She was a witch — what did that mean? Had her parents been witches, led a life she’d never suspected? How long had Kelly known? Had she been hiding it from Kara? So many questions and no time to sort them out now.

  She pressed her lips together, opened her eyes and stared into Risk’s. His gaze held hers, steady but filled with silent urgency.

  He was right — she had to find Kelly. There was no time to wallow in
what any of this meant to her future or how it colored her past. She had to live in the now. Deal with the moment. Determination surged over her. With Risk’s help, she could do this.

  Locking onto the thought, she placed her hand on his. “I think I know who she was — the woman.”

  Afraid if she hesitated, then the reality of what she was accepting as truth would hit her, Kara hopped up and hurried to the basement where she’d left the notebook earlier. After grabbing it, she raced back up the stairs. Risk sat where she’d left him.

  “Here. The list of names. I think she’s one of them.” Trying to appear more sure than she was, she held out the pad. “I didn’t say anything, but when I touched her, I saw things. Things from her life. Kelly was there with her. She was working on a computer and Kelly was taking notes — in this notebook.

  “Look at the last name. It’s written in red ink. All the rest are in blue. That name was added last. I think Kelly and that woman were looking for all the others and then…she disappeared, too.”

  Or was taken. Kara thought back to the last thing she’d seen after touching the woman — before the pain had sliced into her, breaking the connection.

  She glanced at him, hope making her smile. They were getting closer. “Do you think someone took these people—” she pointed at the list he held in his hand “—because they are witches? Would someone do that?”

  A short laugh escaped Risk’s lips. “Yes, I most certainly do.”

  They talked for the next hour, Risk explaining to Kara that she had somehow closed a circle the night before when she’d knocked herself out. That while she didn’t realize it, she actually had power — and that combined, she and Kelly might have a greater power capacity than any normal witch.

  It was a lot for Kara to take in, to accept. She had never been more than average at anything, her fear always stopping her from trying all the things Kelly seemed to excel at naturally.

  “And the dogs, they were real — I mean the eyes, the disappearing? Do you think they were sent by whoever took Kelly?”

  Risk picked up an empty whiskey glass and twirled it around on his leg. Staring at a droplet that stubbornly clung to the glass wall, he replied, “No, I don’t.”

  Kara frowned. “You mean they weren’t real? Or they weren’t part of Kelly’s disappearance?”

  His eyes flicked upward. “They were real, but they had nothing to do with Kelly.”

  “How can you be so sure? They were certainly threatening. Who’s to say whoever took these witches didn’t switch tactics and decide to use dogs instead?” She’d told him about the knife, and her belief that whoever wielded it had abducted the dead witch they’d seen at the morgue.

  “I’m sure.” He set the glass down on the chest beside him with a bang. “This is getting us nowhere. We need to concentrate on who did take those witches. Where’s the last place you saw Kelly?”

  Kara watched him, her brows lowered. There were still a lot of things she didn’t understand. “Here at the house. She was going out. She was wearing all black. At the time I didn’t think anything of it, even though she normally wears some color. Now, I think maybe it was because she was spying on someone…”

  “Or hunting them,” Risk finished.

  “Yeah. That.” Kara’s mind flicked back to the bottles she’d seen Kelly tuck into her fanny pack. “I think she might have been armed — in a way.”

  Risk nodded, tension seeming to leak out of him as he considered her comments. “Anything else?”

  “Well…” Kara twisted her mouth to the side. “There were the matches — but that was silly.”

  “What matches?”

  She huffed out a breath, embarrassed. “It’s nothing. I found some matches in Kelly’s stuff. They had the name of a bar on them — the Guardian’s Keep. That’s why I went there — the night of the dogs. But I realize now, they were just matches. Kelly needed something to light those candles — for whatever.” Kara still wasn’t comfortable with the image of her sister going around lighting candles, chanting and who knew what else. “She’d probably had them for ages.”

  “No, she didn’t.”

  Kara frowned at him. How could he possibly know how long Kelly had had a packet of matches?

  “She’s a witch,” he continued.

  Kara let her face go blank.

  He sighed. “Witches store power. That’s what they do. They collect it from around them and then channel it and release it when they need it. Even the weakest witch can light a candle without bothering with a match.”

  “I can store power? And release it — you mean like balls of fire?”

  His lips thinned. “Depends on the witch. How the energy comes out’s different from one to the other.”

  “But I’ve never—”

  “I don’t know how witches work. I don’t want to know.” He stood up, the chest he’d been sitting on creaking from the sudden loss of his weight.

  Something shifted in the air around them, making the tiny hairs on the back of Kara’s neck rise. She ignored it. “Could I be pulling energy from this room right now and not know it? And…” She held her closed hands out toward Risk, then flicked them open.

  He moved to the side, so quickly it seemed almost instinctive. His eyes flashed, a spark there for a second then gone.

  “Risk?” Suddenly wary, she edged sideways, placing her feet solidly on the floor. “You…you’ve never told me what you are. How you found me and how you know so much about witches. Are you…?”

  Risk turned on his heel, strode to the front window and pulled back the drape, his hand clenched around the navy twill. “I…work for a witch. I was at the bar because she sent me to retrieve something for her. I walked out into the parking lot and found you. That’s all there is to it.”

  Kara sat straighter. “You work for a witch? Can I meet her? Can she help us?”

  He dropped the material, the floor-length drape catching on itself, wrinkled from his tight grip. “No.”

  Kara watched him, unsure where to go from here. “But surely, she could tell us something. Even if it was to just help me learn how to do things myself — maybe she’d have a book, or something.”

  “No.” The terseness of his voice pushed Kara back against the sofa cushion. Her eyes widened.

  He spun back toward the window and slapped his hand against the glass. He stood there, the muscles of his back flaring out with his breaths. A few seconds later, he turned back.

  “Witches don’t work together. They’re like cats, territorial and possessive. You do not want to meet Lusse.”

  “But…” He made witches sound evil. Kelly wasn’t territorial or possessive, and if Kara’s vision was accurate, Kelly was actually working with a witch to find other witches. He had to be mistaken. “I don’t think—” He strode across the room until he towered over her. “You will not search out Lusse.”

  Kara stared up at him, something inside of her snapping in response. She jumped to her feet. “You make witches sound evil. Kelly is not evil. I’m not evil. Maybe you’re wrong about Lusse, too.”

  The vein at the base of his throat began to pulse, and he fisted and unfisted one hand. Inhaling deeply, he stepped closer, wove his fingers deep into her hair.

  Using her hair to hold her, he tilted her face up to his. “No, temptation. I am not wrong about Lusse. Just like I pray I am not wrong about you.” Then he leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers in a kiss so fiery, heat surged through her, burning away every inhibition her sane side tried to push forward.

  8

  Kara’s scent engulfed him. Anger, fear — his usual downfalls, swirled around them. He fought to maintain the beast that roared to be set free. His tongue shoved past her parted lips. His hands gripped her head, his fingers tense with the struggle to stay under control; passion rolled through him, attacking his resolve.

  Control. He had to maintain control. Couldn’t risk a repeat of what had happened before, with Venge’s mother.

  With an e
ffort so strenuous his body shook in objection, he slowed his kiss and concentrated on the woman trapped by his hands, returning his embrace. Something shifted inside him, moving further from the beast and closer to the man.

  Soft hair wove around his fingers. He ran his thumbs over the angle of her cheekbones; her skin was smooth, cool to his touch. And her scent, he inhaled deeply taking in not only her emotions, which had morphed from anger to excitement, but also the spice that was Kara. A rumble formed deep in his throat.

  He should pull away. He knew it, but her scent was addictive. It made him react in ways he’d never reacted before. Made him fear — for her. The thought of her finding Lusse had sent him into a rage, but one laced with panic. His hellhound blood running cold at the image of what Lusse would do to his little witch.

  Fear. It was an emotion Risk drew from others, not one he emitted himself. It was a weakness, he knew that. And he could afford no weakness, not now. He should separate himself from the source — leave Kara behind and search for her sister alone. Nothing good could come of this liaison. If he leaned on his hellhound nature, he’d endanger her; if he let himself slip to his human side, she’d endanger him.

  His traitorous lungs expanded again, taking in another wave of Kara. His hands softened, his fingers stroking her scalp. Addictive. She was addictive, and he wasn’t strong enough to walk away.

  Accepting his weakness and the threat to himself, he pushed all thoughts of the consequences of what he was doing from his mind, and instead concentrated on the undeniable pleasure of her lips moving against his. He let his human side take over.

  As he relaxed, her tongue darting shyly then more boldly into his mouth. Her hands, once passive at her side, now traveling up the length of his body, tugging at his shirt. Her fingers found his bare stomach, glided over the muscles there.

  He growled, freed one of his hands from her hair to shove her cotton shirt up until his palm touched the skimpy lace of the undergarment covering her breasts.

  A puff of breath escaped her lips, blowing cool across his neck. He groaned and ran his thumb under the tight band of her bra, pushing the material up until her full breast fell into his hand. He palmed her flesh, rolling her nipple between his thumb and index finger. Twisting and pulling until it hardened in response.