Caged Magic

by Jennifer Lyon

Linc’s hands wrapped around her shoulders. “Let go, I’ve got you.” He swept her up into his arms and strode out to the bedroom.

  She opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off.

  “It goes both ways.” After shifting her to one arm, he pulled back the thick blue satin comforter and settled her on the cool sheets. Releasing her, he stood and stripped off his pants. “Scoot. I sleep closest to the door.”

  “Sleep?” Or sex? She moved to the other side.

  “Sleep.” Linc slid into the bed, reached out and pulled her back to his front. “You need rest. I need to touch you to keep the curse calm.” His chest expanded in another breath, and he added, “And to make sure you’re okay.”

  Her chest tightened. He was taking care of her. Again. No one had done that since her mom died, and it confused her. Made her want it, and at the same time fear becoming attached. “I need to focus on Kendall.”

  “Can you use your magic after a bout of soul screams?”

  Curling her fingers around the sheets, Risa sighed. “No. I have to sleep first.”

  “If you relax, I’ll tell you how I know your father.”

  “Blackmail,” she muttered, but settled back against him. He didn’t lock his arms around her, thereby trapping her. Instead his right arm pillowed her head, and his other hand rested on her waist. He soothed her with soft strokes of his thumb. It felt good. Some weakass part of her drank in the sensation like she was starving for affection.

  Unnerved by her reaction to him, she pushed him to fulfill his part of his blackmail bargain. “Pay up, Dillinger.”

  “Your dad was sent to collect my mother’s drug debt. But she didn’t have the money.”

  All her muscles strained tight. “He killed her?” That had been his job, far as she knew. But maybe he did debt collection too, or some variation of that.

  “No. Mom negotiated a deal instead.” His voice was too flat.

  “What?”

  “Me. She sold me to him to settle her debt.”

  * * *

  Linc felt the threads of fear and suspicion rising off Risa. But his own memory surged up and overtook him.

  Three men, led by Vic, had stormed into his bedroom, jerked him out of bed and beat him bloody with fists and clubs before he’d had a chance to defend himself.

  He’d been thirteen. Vic Faden had known what he was. A witch hunter, stronger, faster and more dangerous than any human.

  Once they had him writhing on the floor, a mass of pain and blood, they’d chained him up. He could still feel the collar snapping around his neck, then more hardware around his wrists and ankles. After that, they dragged him out into the shithole living room. His mother scratched at her arms and legs, and muttered, Had to. Need my fix, baby. Had to sell you.

  His mom had sold him for her coke fix. Evidently his price bought off her debt, with enough left over for more drugs. The old anger, sense of confused betrayal, the realization that he was less important to her than her drugs poured over him.

  “Linc?”

  Risa’s voice pulled him from the memories drowning him. “What?”

  “Are you planning some kind of revenge? Use me to break your curse then kill me for being the daughter of the man who took you?” She shifted, twisting her head to look up at him.

  Linc stared into her eyes and realized how screwed up the two of them were. She was in his arms, he wore an aching hard-on that didn’t care Risa was sick from the soul screams, and she’d calmly asked him if he planned to kill her.

  Nope. Why would he? Linc had already killed her father, but she didn’t know that. Jesus, the two of them were a fucked-up pair. “I don’t blame you,” Linc said. Shit, she was a victim of her father, just as he’d been a victim of his crack-addicted mother and Risa’s father. “We’re survivors. We both know better than to trust love.”

  Risa slowly relaxed. He wasn’t sure if she believed him or if she was too tired and sick to fight.

  “What did my father do with you?”

  He smoothed down the ragged ends of her hair, surprised by the silky texture. Stroking her soothed the feral beast inside him, making it easier to talk about his past. “He took me to the man who’d hired him. I was caged and trained to be feral. For deathmatches. My owner got rich, and Vic got a cut for procuring me.”

  “Oh God. My father did that. I knew he was evil, but I keep finding out he was even worse.” She curled in on herself, away from him. “The things I had, all the pretty clothes and possessions, some of them were paid for by your suffering.”

  Linc wasn’t having it. He wrapped his body around hers. “Risa, you were a child. How could you know?”

  She shuddered.

  “Shh, baby, it’s okay. We both got out. We both made ourselves strong. And by bonding our souls, we can be stronger still.”

  She turned her face to him. “How? How can you touch me when you know my true ugliness? You have to see it.”

  The agony in her eyes cut him. No tears, just endless dry pain. “I see a woman afraid of her own beauty.” And her sexuality. But he wasn’t going there tonight. Risa needed time to recover from the soul screams. Shifting his thoughts from that, he added, “I see a woman willing to fight for her child.” That drew him like nothing else. How could it not?

  She turned her eyes away. “I have to find her.”

  It was all he could do not to leap out of bed, drag on his clothes and start ripping Vegas apart until he found the baby for her. But with that spawn out there, he needed to be smart. “Sleep,” he said softly. “You have to regain your strength. In the meantime, Ram and Eli are going out to look for her tonight.”

  “Eli?”

  “Another hunter who arrived earlier tonight. He and Ram have her picture and are seeing if they can turn up any leads in Vegas. I’ll head out early in the morning. Then when you wake and I get back, we’ll work on sealing our bond and using your high magic.”

  Once Risa dropped off to sleep, Linc moved away from her but kept his hand on her waist.

  The contact eased the bloodlust to a low buzzing. But raw and harsh sexual lust pounded in his ears, heated his blood and kept his cock rigid. Just a brush of her hip spiked his lust to unbearable.

  He ignored it, forcibly slowing his respiration, trying to cool the need.

  He did not have sex with women who didn’t want him. He knew exactly how awful it was to be forced, coerced or trapped into unwanted sex.

  The feral animal in him remembered it all. The times he’d been raped, the times he’d been forced to have sex with a terrorized woman who didn’t want him. Oh he’d fought it, refused to have sex with whatever unfortunate woman they brought him at first. Beating him hadn’t worked to get him to perform for the pricks who owned him.

  But they’d found his weakness. They always did. Hurt the woman, and Linc agreed to anything they wanted. He never knew if the women put through it ever understood he tried not to hurt them. That he was trying to save them from worse. But that was just sugarcoating the truth.

  Nothing ever made it okay. Nothing. No soft words or gentle touches mitigated the violation.

  Once he’d escaped, making damn sure he killed all his owners, trainers and the assorted scum, Linc had refused to hurt another woman again. Ever.

  What worried him was Risa somehow reached past the man he’d become to remember the abused animal he’d been. All this time, he’d never told anyone about those years he’d been chained and owned.

  Was it a weakness, another sign he was getting closer to going rogue?

  ~ 10 ~

  “Mama, I couldn’t see you when you slept.”

  Risa hung up the towel she’d dried her hair with, picked up Linc’s comb and began working out the tangles. As she did that, she looked into the mirror at her daughter floating in the steamy bathroom. “You only come out when I’m alone.” Don’t do this, she’s not real.

  “I wish I had hair like you.”

  Her hand froze mid-stroke. “When did you get eyelashes?
And eyebrows?”

  The baby blinked. “They seemed to grow when you were fighting the other souls.”

  Sucking in a breath, Risa dropped the comb and clutched the edge of the counter with both hands. The cool stone pressed against her palms but didn’t dim the hot fear racing through her.

  She was losing her mind. She never saw a physical form of the other souls in her magic. Just Nola. It was crazy to see and talk to her baby.

  “Mama, don’t you like my eyelashes? They aren’t as long as yours, but they’ll grow, right?”

  Oh Ancestors. It was so unfair that Nola had gotten trapped in her shield magic. “Nola, you’re beautiful. With or without eyelashes.” Releasing the counter, she stood straight, digging for strength. She had to stop believing she was seeing Nola. “I’m going to get my high magic. Then I should be able to release the souls. Until then, you should just rest.”

  Her daughter’s face crumpled. “No. I don’t want to leave you. I can’t. Please, I’ll be good.”

  Her heart wrenched, and tears burned her eyes. Nola looked so real to her, felt real. “Baby, you’ll go to Summerland. It’s beautiful there, and the Ancestors will love you so much. Then when you’re ready, you’ll be reborn.” She had to believe that. Had to.

  “But you won’t be my mama.” Her tiny bottom lip quivered.

  Her chest ached with the old grief. “You’ll have a better mom, Nola. One who will protect you so you can be born and live. Not die—” murdered! “—in my stomach and remain trapped in my magic.” Her throat tightened so painfully, her voice cracked.

  Nola began to fade, her solid form going fuzzy at the edges.

  Panic squeezed Risa’s lungs. “Nola, I love you, baby. I just want what’s best for you.”

  “Then don’t make me leave you. Please.”

  It stunned her to see two big fat tears rolling down the fading image of her baby’s face. Now she had tears, real tears.

  “Swear, Mama. Swear you won’t make me leave until I want to go.”

  She wasn’t strong enough. She could do nothing but nod and agree. When Nola pressed close to her, Risa swore she felt the faintest touch, soft yet brimming with love.

  Crazy. She’s not real.

  But she drank in the feeling. Somewhere inside of her, the need for touch and affection had been unlocked. “I love you, Nola. I will always love you. I won’t make you go.”

  Nola grew more solid and smiled.

  The sound of the door unlocking in the suite warned her someone was coming.

  Nola vanished. Bereft loneliness settled over Risa as she headed to the living room.

  Hilary stood there surrounded by a sea of bags. “Clothes and essentials.”

  Risa took in the bounty, confused. “Uh, where’d these come from?”

  “Linc’s personal shopper sent them over for you. Linc told her to get things she surmised you’d need since everything you had burned in his house.”

  Her stuff actually burned in her car before she met Linc, but Risa hadn’t given a thought to what Linc lost in the fire. “He lost everything?”

  Hilary waved a hand. “The boy can buy whatever he wants.”

  “Boy?” Jeez, could she sound more like a dimwit? This woman’s confident, assertive manner intimidated her.

  Hilary’s smile softened her formidable lines. “I met Lincoln when he was little more than a boy. Nineteen, if I remember correctly. Body of a man, mind of a very angry boy.”

  How long had Linc been chained? Tortured? Risa frowned, not liking the slew of uncomfortable feelings swirling around in her. Pity, admiration, respect. “How’d you meet him?” She didn’t understand how Linc would have come across this stern and prim-looking woman.

  Hilary leaned her hip against the arm of the couch. “I caught him stealing my dinner out of my oven.”

  Risa gasped. “In your house?”

  “Enchiladas. He stood there holding that sizzling pan with no potholders. I could smell his skin burning and see the hunger in his eyes. Ratty boy, long, snarled hair, filthy clothes, and reeked like he hadn’t seen soap and water in a month.” She shook her head. “Told that boy to put dinner down and go take a shower. When he was clean, we’d eat.”

  “But…” She was pretty sure Hilary was mortal, couldn’t feel any magic around her. “Weren’t you scared he’d hurt you?”

  She shrugged. “If he’d wanted to hurt me, he would have attacked when I first discovered him in my kitchen. All that kid wanted was the food. I saw him debating. He could have run with the enchiladas, and I’d never have caught him.”

  Risa stood there, absolutely riveted, trying to fathom Linc as an unkempt young man. “So what did Linc do?”

  “Took a shower. I found him some clothes, a razor, toothbrush and comb. Then we had dinner.”

  “That’s how you became friends?” Hunger to know more about her soul mirror, to understand him, consumed her.

  Hilary eyed her carefully. “What do you think?”

  A probing question. As if this woman wanted to know how Risa’s mind worked. Risa didn’t want to let her down and considered what she knew about Linc. “No. He wouldn’t trust that easily. He couldn’t.” Not after his own mother had sold him. “You would’ve had to earn Linc’s trust.”

  She nodded once. “And he had to earn his dinner. Each afternoon, he came by the house, showered and cleaned up, then I required an hour of math before we ate, and an hour of reading afterward. If he wanted dessert, he had to turn in homework assignments.”

  A deal. They’d made a deal. Like Linc had made a deal with her. That was how Linc operated, what he trusted. He was clearly intelligent and articulate. But at thirteen he’d been ripped out of whatever sorry life he’d had with his mother. Caged and enslaved, he wouldn’t have gone to school at that point. “Could he read?”

  “He could. Probably about a sixth-grade level. But it was his math ability that astounded me. He could calculate things in his head that has impressed every math professor I have shown.”

  It finally hit her how strange this all was. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because that boy saved me. I’d given up on everything, my marriage, my career as an educator. I didn’t care anymore. Until Linc showed up and gave me a reason to care again. Someone who needed me.” She lowered her chin slightly, and fierceness took hold. “I couldn’t love him more if he were my own blood child. But I’m losing him. I know what he is, what you are. You can save him, Risa. You’re the only one who can. I just wanted you to understand. Lincoln is special.”

  “I understand.”

  “Do you?” Hilary stared at her. “This school was built with his money. Do you know what the L.C. in L.C. Academy stands for?”

  She thought back to Linc telling them when they arrived. “Last Chance.”

  “For all the kids out there who are out of chances, out of hope. He built this place for them. Linc made most of his money off gambling, which I don’t approve of. He’s brilliant, could have been anything he wanted. But he uses his money for projects like this school.” She turned, walked back to the door and looked at her. “Save him, Risa.”

  * * *

  Linc stopped in front of the Baron’s tower located not far off the Strip. The high-rise building had heat sensors and cameras. Whoever was on security detail had already spotted him. He lifted his face to the cameras and said, “Tell Baron that Dillinger is here.”

  While waiting, he studied the block that Baron owned. Across the street loomed Baron’s Custom Rides, where he restored motorcycles.

  The door buzzed and swung open. Linc strode in, ignoring the bikers sprawled around the clubhouse. Most wore cuts with Baron M.C. patches.

  Vice unfolded from a couch, his eyes hard on Linc. His massive arms crossed, legs spread, in total enforcer mode. “You know where to go.”

  Yeah, no love lost there. Vice hadn’t liked being Baron’s second choice for VP of the club. Baron had groomed Linc, but the motorcycle club life didn’t appeal
to him, and he fucking hated the strip clubs and high-class call girls the MC ran. Oh they protected their girls, but women weren’t a commodity. However he had zero concern about turning his back on the VP.

  If Vice thought the time had come to settle a score, he’d bring it to Linc’s face, not his back.

  Linc nodded, headed into the elevator and came out in the penthouse done in black marble and silver.

  Baron had his long, blond hair tied back, revealing his sharp features. The man was tall and fast, his arms popping muscles and ink, including a hawk with an American flag flying from its wings. Sitting on a couch, he clicked off the TV. “You’re here about the spawn.”

  Linc dropped down on a chair. Of course Baron knew—Archer hadn’t exactly been subtle. And Baron had spies everywhere. “It’s war, Baron. We can’t let Asmodeus, his half-breed spawn or the traitor witch hunters that turned rogue take over Vegas.”

  Baron turned slowly, fixing his gaze on him. “Is Vegas your town or not?”

  “Not the time to argue about my choices.” They’d met after Linc started winning too many hands at poker and Baron heard about him. Baron figured out two things—that Linc was a witch hunter and he was counting cards. After that, the witch-hunter biker had bankrolled Linc into high-stakes poker games. It’d been Baron who cleaned him up, putting him in designer clothes to look the part. But he hadn’t owned Linc.

  No one owned him.

  “We need more men,” Linc said. “Are you and your crew on board to fight this battle?”

  “We’ll fight, but we’re not going to be answering to Axel Locke and his crew. Your leader isn’t going to be flying into my town and setting up shop. I run the hunters in Vegas.”

  Which Linc had refused to join, then headed to California to join Axel’s group. Sitting there, he let quiet settle as he considered the problem. Finally, he said, “What do you want, Baron? Let the spawn take over Vegas while we fight each other for power?”

  “Don’t be a moron, Dillinger. I’ll run my own men, we’ll consult, and we’ll kick that hellfire half-breed right back to his demon daddy in the Underworld.” He leaned forward. “But make no mistake, Vegas is my town.”