by Jami Gray
“Why the hell did you tell Cheveyo?” The question tore through gritted teeth. All her earlier resolve about dealing with this rationally blown apart by the raging emotional storm she couldn’t calm. “You swore no one would ever know! You lied to me!” Hearing her voice rise, she stopped, taking a deep breath despite the smothering pain in her chest.
His annoyance and anger faded as he registered what triggered her outburst. “I was concerned.”
“About what?” She tried to fight back the fury and hurt so she could think. “What in the hell could so concern you, that you went behind my back? You broke your oath, dammit!”
“You. I was concerned about you.” He sighed wearily as he studied her. “Sit down.”
She dropped onto the edge of the chair behind her. Her hands twisted tightly together—much like her chaotic emotions—her legs shook. “I don’t understand.”
“I know, and I’m not sure I can explain it.” He got up and moved to the front of his desk, taking the other chair so he could face her. “You were young, Raine. You’d focused so utterly on your training, you seemed to have nothing else in your life. The anger that makes you good at what you do, it twisted you. You took unnecessary risks. You wouldn’t willingly work with anyone on exploring or controlling your abilities. You were reckless, almost unstable.” His professional mask dropped for a moment, exposing lines of concern and tiredness she refused to acknowledge. “You studied the basics, just what you needed to do the job.”
She sat there, staring at him, a brief flicker of disbelief running through her. That he had seen her so clearly, knocked her off balance. Did he know the things she had done? Things, even now, she never really thought about. “I needed the fighting skills. They were more important,” she countered weakly, hoping her fear of being found out wasn’t reflected in her face.
He shook his head sharply. Raising his hand, he almost touched her, before clenching it into a fist and resting it on his knee. “No, Raine, they weren’t.” His voice gentled, “You’re my niece, my responsibility. I owe my sister, your mother, that much. I may not have saved her from those labs, but I can damn well try and save her daughter.” He watched her, his emotionless mask firmly back in place. “Cheveyo doesn’t know everything, only that your magic was tampered with when you were taken.”
But it was more than anyone else knew. Didn’t Mulcahy understand? Couldn’t he sense her humiliation at having Cheveyo know even that much of the story? She searched his face, still not finding the comfort or understanding she spent most of her life looking for. He may have pulled her shattered body out of the human labs when she was fifteen, but she hadn’t been his first priority. She knew that. He’d gone in to save his half-sister and the male who had been their bodyguard. Unfortunately for her uncle, Raine was the only one left alive when he arrived.
Sitting across from this powerful being who was her only blood family, she felt an old, familiar ache. Her uncle would never be able to accept her as she was. He may have loved his sister, but her child was another story. For years she knew this intellectually, but by telling Cheveyo, Mulcahy made it brutally clear she was another pawn in his power games.
Her last faint delusion of familial comfort shattered into dust. Her laugh was bitter as the awareness of how little she meant to this man sank in. “I’ll just have to trust you on that, Uncle. Forgive me if I don’t put much stock in it right now.”
His eyes hardened and his jaw clenched. He pushed himself up and loomed over her. “You’re a stubborn child sometimes. I want you to master your own magic. You’ve been so busy running away from it, you haven’t stopped to think what it could change for you.”
She leaned back in her chair, arms negligently draped along the sides. “Change?” Mockery heavy in her voice. “For me or for you?” She could tell he was holding his temper by a thread. Was the urge to shake her riding him hard? Did she really give a damn? She kept her tone scathing. “I don’t want to change anything, I was…am doing just fine. Do you have any idea what will happen when I start poking around inside my own head?”
He straightened, unclenching his jaw and fists. He took a deep breath and leaned against the edge of his desk. “No.” His gaze was steady and his voice cold. “And neither do you.” Something in her expression triggered a flashing of his teeth. “That’s the problem. So far you’ve been lucky, but it won’t last.”
“Yeah? Well, let’s just hope it doesn’t kill me and Cheveyo.” She heard the hostility in her voice. She must have a death wish to keeping pushing her uncle like this. You don’t back a hungry tiger into a corner and keep poking it with a stick. Eventually, the tiger will get bored and rip your throat out.
“You accepted his offer?” Both his face and tone were carefully blank, all traces of his anger and frustration pushed behind his normal professional mask.
“What was I going to do? Turn it down?” She rubbed one hand absently over the back of her neck. “I needed the information he had.” A sudden suspicion hit her and she narrowed her eyes into a glare. “You knew when you sent me out this would happen.”
He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. It was reflected in the brief glimpse of satisfaction she caught in his eyes.
She shook her head, suddenly tired. She didn’t want to continue this conversation anymore. There was no way it would end how she needed it to. Nor would she ever be able to figure out her uncle and his convoluted machinations.
Mulcahy read her capitulation, because his own tense posture relaxed fractionally. “After his first refusal, I didn’t push too hard as you seemed to find some sense of balance in your life.” His tone was a couple steps up from his earlier frostbite. “You slowly came out of your shell. You were isolated, but seemed to be functioning better.” He shrugged and circled his desk. Sitting in his chair, he watched her. “I thought I’d wait and see if you would make the decision to explore your talents. I didn’t think it would take this long.”
She leaned her head back against the chair and closed her eyes. “You should have,” she said, her voice empty.
“I know,” he agreed. “When I called Cheveyo about the security breach, he mentioned he was thinking of approaching you. I didn’t disagree with the timing.”
“Of course not.” Her eyes opened, the ceiling taking up her field of vision, but she didn’t lift her head. “You think I’m a ticking time bomb.”
He ignored her sarcasm. “Yes, I do. You’re no good to me as a Wraith if you self-destruct because you’re too scared to push your own limits.”
Familiar with her uncle’s ability to divorce emotionally from any family ties when it came to Taliesin, didn’t make it hurt any less. It was the primary reason they agreed to keep their family bond quiet.
No use in anyone thinking she got where she did because of blood ties, as laughable as that was. It would’ve been yet another reason to keep her on the outside fringe. She never regretted the decision, yet right now, she envied Mulcahy’s control.
Pushing her body out of her chair she stood. “Don’t worry, I’ll do my job. It always comes first. That’s what you taught me.” Her lips twisted into a bitter smile. “Who knows, Uncle, maybe when Cheveyo’s done, I’ll be the warrior you want me to be. I wonder if it’ll be enough.” She turned on her heel and left the office, not bothering to wait for his answer.
Chapter Five
Barefoot, hair drawn back in a serviceable braid, Raine systematically pounded the punching bag with sharp, blurring vicious movements. Using short quick strikes, she let her anger reign. Just because she imagined Mulcahy’s face on the bag meant nothing. It was no more than a focal point.
The conversation in his office ran through her head in an endless loop, pushing her hands faster. After years of intense training, her body moved in an instinctive rhythm. Sweat trickled down her face, but was ignored. Her muscles stretched and flowed. Her mind emptied and settled, as her body shifted and contorted into various offensive and defensive positions. Caught up in her workout, it took a second for a
slight rustle of cloth to filter through and catch her attention.
Recognizing Gavin’s long-limbed figure, she came to a gradual stop. Putting her hands out to hold the heavy bag steady, she watched as he moved through the dim light of the second floor gym open to all Taliesin employees.
She’d never admit it aloud, but she got a secret thrill out of watching him move. All that leashed violence wrapped in such a tempting package. No, it wasn’t just her exercise making her pant. She closed her eyes and used her arm to wipe the sweat off her forehead. What the hell was wrong with her lately? Males never hit her radar like this. They were too much work. Yet, this man drove her crazy. Only Gavin seemed to send her from furious to horny in under a minute.
He stopped just in front of her. “What did it do to piss you off?”
Her damp, gray tank stuck to her back as she wiped her hands down the side of her black sweats. “I didn’t like its tone.” She realized she’d lost track of time. She was supposed to meet him and go over what they discovered in their separate meetings. Thanks to the discussion with her uncle and its emotional upheaval, she’d missed the appointment. Damn. She winced and shrugged. “Sorry, I got sidetracked.”
Sharp green gaze studied her face. “I was able to track you down, so no harm done.” He walked to the other side of the hanging bag, gently pushing it toward her. “Need a live opponent?”
Pushing the bag back, she answered, “If you’re up for it.”
She welcomed the challenge of facing someone who would actually hit back. The gym’s lighting allowed her to take in the small signs of tension around his mouth. Perhaps she wasn’t the only one who needed to blow off a little steam. It made her curious about what happened. It took a great deal to push Gavin’s buttons—she’d tried often enough. His need for control rivaled hers.
She tracked his lithe progress into the locker room to change. What would it be like if two tightly controlled people trusted each other enough to let loose? She snorted softly and went to pick up her bottle of water from the floor, ignoring a brief flare of regret that she’d never risk finding out. Trust wasn’t something she could easily give, and her secrets meant his trust could never be earned.
A few minutes later he returned, wearing a faded pair of sweats. His chest was temptingly bare, except for the tattoos covering his right shoulder and upper arm. The inked images mirrored a separate band on his left arm, and a strangely haunting pattern traced down his left side. She recognized the spelled protections in the markings on his shoulder, but not the ones on the left. In addition, like any warrior, he bore his own share of scars.
He stopped a few feet away and bowed. She returned it. Moving into a defensive stance, she turned her body to the side, presenting the smallest target, while keeping her legs balanced and her breathing and gaze focused.
His opening form was one from Kyoskushin-Kai, a powerful Japanese style of Karate. The style leaned on quick multiple attacks, breaking, breathing, and killing techniques. Her own preference was a combination of Aikido and Krav Maga, which utilized efficient, but lethal movements. It eliminated wasted motions, giving her split-second advantages over other styles. It was, in her opinion, the most realistic form for street fighting.
He came at her in a blur. Barely blocking his first hit, she responded with a snapping series of punches and kicks, before dodging back out of reach. He advanced, his hands striking out, only to be followed by a quick foot-sweep.
She landed on her back, twisted to the side, crouched, and got her feet set, before kicking out. A solid hit to his thigh knocked him off balance, enough for her to pull back and set up for her next move. Back and forth they danced, focused and deadly, the silence broken by occasional grunts and the thick sound of flesh hitting flesh. Fifteen minutes later, they stepped back and bowed to each other.
Raine, chest heaving, was grateful to see him breathing equally hard. There would be bruises and aches tomorrow, but the physical outlet banked her rage, leaving a steady calm in its wake. Meeting his hooded gaze, she found an echo of the primitive joy she always experienced after a fight. Watching him in predator mode touched her primal feminine core. Without thinking she gave him a fierce grin, receiving a similar bearing of teeth in return.
“So, now that the preliminaries are out of the way,” she said. “What next?”
He chuckled and shook his head. “You’re one of the few females I know that gets off on fighting.”
“Hey, a girl has to have a hobby.” Her voice was muffled as she wiped the sweat off her face with a towel. “You have to admit it was fun.”
“It’s definitely one way to blow off a little steam.” Grabbing his own towel, he began to wipe his chest.
The motion caught her gaze and her breath hitched briefly before steadying out. His chest was truly fascinating, but looking was a dangerous indulgence, especially right now. However, her silent warning did not stop her damn hormones from clamoring for attention.
“I can think of other things that work just as well, if not better,” he offered, his voice dark, seductive as he caught her staring. The flare of arousal stained his cheeks, while something much lower made an unmistakable appearance. “Like what you see?”
More than he’d ever know. “It’s distracting, but I’ll live.” Her quip came out husky. This attraction was a mess just waiting to happen. Time to ratchet things down a bit. “How went the meeting with Natasha?”
His lingering grin faded. “Challenging as ever. I was able to gather some more information, though.” He tossed the now damp towel toward the bin outside the locker room. When it landed on top of the others, he shot her a look. “We should probably head somewhere to trade stories. I want to hear what you found out from Cheveyo that sent you storming into Mulcahy’s office.”
She shook her head, giving a small huff. “The gossip mill here is worse than a bunch of old crones.”
“And you’re surprised because?”
“I’m not.” She shifted, throwing her towel toward the bin. “Regardless, my meeting with Mulcahy had nothing to do with what we’re following.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Really? Now I’m definitely curious as to what could have possibly triggered your ever infamous temper.”
She grimaced. “It’s off limits. It was simply a difference of opinions.” Time to change the topic. “Speaking of infamous tempers, what did the demon queen have to add?”
He took her not-so-subtle hint. “You’ve got a one track mind. Let me clean up first, and I’ll meet you back here. Then we can figure out where to go to chat.”
She shrugged. “Sure, just give me a few.” Turning, she headed back to the locker room.
Twenty minutes later she came out. Her damp hair was braided, tank and sweat pants changed in favor of well-worn jeans and a white button down fleeced shirt she kept in her locker. At least now she’d be warm in her trench coat. She really needed a better coat. Leather was not great for keeping warmth in. It looked cool, though.
Gavin was leaning up against one of the gym walls, talking to a heavily muscled man. She recognized Chet Hilliard’s brown hair, streaked with blond. His face was interesting. His blue eyes held spots of gold, like tiny starbursts. There was a scar twisting from his left temple down to his chin.
As she drew closer, the slight vibration in the air surrounding him nipped at her. Chet was a shifter and another Wraith, one of the few she knew and actually liked. Right now his constantly smiling mask was missing, leaving him looking as grave and dangerous as he truly was.
Both men turned to watch her walk toward them. As an oddity in the male dominated world of warriors, she was use to the scrutiny. She didn’t stop until she stood beside both of them.
“Hey.” She nodded to Chet. “Something up?”
“Not sure,” he answered. “I was supposed to get a report from a bodyguard covering one of my assignments last night. He never showed.”
“Well, did you ask Mulcahy where he was?”
“Chet was just telli
ng me,” Gavin answered blandly, watching her. “The boss man indicated Quinn had left the company.”
Training kept her expression from altering. Although, it was known Wraiths would, at Mulcahy’s orders, take care of removing any employee who violated the laws, when a situation arose, names of those doing the removing were not shared. From Gavin’s look she knew he’d put one and one together and figured out where she had been the night before.
Chet grimaced. “Now I’m stuck trying to figure out what lines he’d pulled. Mulcahy indicated his leaving was permanent, so I’m back to square one.”
Hearing that, she relaxed a bit. Chet understood Quinn wasn’t going to be reporting in anytime soon, unless he found a necromancer willing to talk to him.
Gavin kept his sharp gaze on her as he asked Chet, “What will you do next?”
Chet sighed, and ran a large hand, etched with scars, through his hair. “Retrace his steps. See if I can figure out what he found. Then I get to fill his shoes as a bodyguard until I can come up with someone else to cover it.” He shot an appraising look at the two of them. “I’m guessing you two can be crossed off that list?”
She gave him a small smile, and tried to ignore Gavin’s unsettling stare. “Yeah, Mulcahy has us working two different cases that may, or may not, be connected.”
“Figures.” Chet grinned back. “I had hoped to convince one of you to take it on.” As they both shot him a look, he shrugged his powerful shoulders. “Oh well, on to the next unlucky name on my list.” His curious gaze moved between them, noting the fact they were both dressed to leave. “So, Gavin, who’d you curse to end up working with Raine?” Speculation kindled in his eyes, and smug humor colored his tone. The comment earned him a quick jab in the arm from Raine.
Gavin quirked an eyebrow at Chet. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
Chet just laughed, rubbing his arm. “Well, luck to you both, then. Let me know if there’s something I can help with. I’m off to teach a few new recruits some old tricks.”
