Free Spirit: Book Two of The Bound Spirit Series

by H. A. Wills

  Her brows pucker, and she goes back to chewing on her lip. “Okay. If you think that’s best,” she murmurs. “Can I start punching things now?”

  “Fucking yes. Let’s punch some shit,” I answer emphatically, grabbing the MMA and inner gloves off the counter and helping her put them on.

  We walk over to the heavy bag, and I hold it steady while she switches back and forth from punching and kicking the spots I marked off with duct tape. For a few minutes there’s nothing but loud music and the sounds of her smacking against the leather. I don’t want to ask, but this seems like the best time to find out where we stand in regards to her aunt.

  “So, you going to tell me how the call went?” I ask, after a particularly solid hit with her shin that normal people with as little training as she’s had would wince over. She should be wearing guards, but who am I to stop her? Normal people probably don’t have the same relationship with pain as Callie does.

  Thankfully, she doesn’t play dumb, instead grunting out, “Fine.”

  “I can’t believe I’m asking this, but you were talking with her for over thirty minutes. I’m going to need a little more than fine,” I press, while she swaps to a one-two punch.

  Her lips purse, as she grits her teeth, visible by the subtle tick in her jaw. “She asked if I was depressed. I told her I didn’t know. It’s not like I can really go to a doctor for this stuff.” Callie stops, pitching her head to the side, and in a high voice, she mocks, “Hey, so my father physically abused me for years. Why isn’t there any evidence? Well, you see, I’m a special magic witch that can heal any wound.”

  She rolls her eyes and kicks the bag again. “It’s not like it matters. I can’t exactly hurt myself, and I’m functioning... enough.”

  That hits me like a dagger to the chest. We’re all dealing with our shit, but from the moment I met Callie, she’s seemed like this unstoppable force. Like no matter what’s thrown at her, she’ll get back up and be stronger than ever. I push away the memory of her crying in Kaleb’s arms earlier. The idea that there might be some truth to Gina’s bullshit makes my stomach turn.

  “And? What’s she going to do?” I ask. This is the real reason I need to know. If it turns out Mildred sided with the school, I’m going to raise hell until she sees reason.

  “Nothing, because that’s what I asked her to do,” she answers in a way that sounds like she’s ready for me to argue… which I’m going to.

  “Like nothing with the school, or nothing nothing?”

  Callie stops again and sighs. “Nothing nothing. I told her to play nice with the school and leave it at that.”

  “Want to explain why we’re not letting Mildred chew through the Coven and make them wish they were never born?” I question conversationally, really liking the idea of a powerful witch working with us, instead of the normal against us… or just plain ignoring us.

  “You mean besides possibly still needing their help?” she answers, shifting her weight to her back foot, while her arms hang at her sides.

  “They won’t change their minds unless it’s a problem they can’t ignore, which your aunt going ape shit on them would accomplish,” I reason.

  Callie turns sharply and does a high heel kick against the heavy bag, startling me and once again highlighting her flexibility. What were we talking about?

  “Because I need Gina afraid of me, not my aunt,” she answers, her foot still pressed against the bag. Look at her face, not her legs. “Mildred would be a band-aid, assuming it didn’t blow up in our faces, which is why I need her concentrating on getting this damn spell off. Once I have control of my powers, I’ll be the bitch she’ll regret messing with, and her reign of terror will come to an end.”

  With a raised brow, I smirk down at her. “That sounds a lot like being the fucking hero that saves the day.”

  “No, it’s a ‘don’t mess with me’ that has the happy byproduct of smacking her off her pedestal made of the people she crushed under her too expensive shoes,” she counters, dropping her leg and raising her chin in challenge.

  That’s why it’s hard to believe any of Gina’s bullshit could be true. Callie is all steel behind that sweet face. And it’s a fucking turn on. Heat ripples across my skin, and I switch from thinking about demons and their stats to the most efficient way of killing them.

  “Can I get back to beating the crap out of this bag?” she pleads, as done with this subject as I am.

  “I’m not stopping you,” I tease, earning a squinty glare and another shin kick to the bag. This one I’m ready for and hold it steady.

  Now that I’m concentrating on her form of motion, instead of just her form, I realize it’s off. Treat her like she’s anybody else, I tell myself, then remember I’m a dick to pretty much everyone else. Don’t flirt with her. Better.

  “Stop,” I command when she’s mid punch. “You’re standing wrong, and your punches are sloppy. Keep that up, and you’ll hurt yourself for no reason.”

  Before she can glare at me again, I let go of the bag, move so I’m standing behind her, and reach for her hips, adjusting her so she’s once again facing the heavy bag straight on. I can feel waves of heat coming off her body, and small beads of sweat stick wayward strands of hair to her skin. More thoughts of murdering Nolan spring to mind, when I notice the entire back of the damn top is nothing but a few strings attached to a thick band that has very bra like hooks on it.

  To kill a succubus, go for ranged attacks. If they get too close and are able to make physical contact, their control over sexual energy… and enough of thinking about succubi.

  I swallow a groan, as she tilts her head at an angle that better exposes the crook of her neck, and the heady blend of pomegranate and orchids tease my nose.

  Clearing my throat, I instruct, “Remember, you want to keep your hips facing your target, it allows you to quickly switch your weight to either foot in case you need to block or keep yourself standing after a leg sweep.”

  Strangely quiet, she nods and makes a throaty hum of affirmation. I expected at least some griping over me correcting her.

  I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me. Girls don’t get in my head like this. Maybe it’s because if Callie was any other girl, I would’ve already had her in bed by now-- or walked away. I’m always in it for the good time, nothing more. Callie deserves more. She deserves a stand-up guy that can be the perfect boyfriend; not some asshole that’ll be gone in a year and dead in seven. As much as it irritates the shit out of me, she deserves someone like Kaleb.

  She’s become something I can’t have… that must be it. And now we’re alone, the sun has set, casting the heated gym in a soft yellow from the built in lights, and the music is so loud that I can feel the beat in my chest, drowning out anything we say from outside ears. Add that to the list of things I shouldn’t think about.

  My brain and body must not be on fucking speaking terms, because my hands slowly slide up her sides on my way to adjusting her arms. I revel in the shiver that runs down her spine. I’m a special grade of asshole. Just because I can’t have her, doesn’t mean I don’t want her to want me.

  Her golden skin is soft to the touch, as I gently encircle my fingers around her small wrists. Now that the idea of seducing her is in my head, I can’t seem to get it out, even if I don’t actually want anything to happen. I don’t, damn it!

  The first time I instructed her, I was all business, but this time, I lean down so I can whisper in her ear like a lover trying to convince her to find a dark, quiet corner we can be alone in, “You want to keep your arms at a ninety degree angle, and roughly shoulder width apart.” This is accompanied by me slowly moving her arms to the instructed positions.

  “Mmmhmm… ninety degree angles… right,” she stutters out, her husky voice having a breathless quality to it.

  An evil grin rolls across my lips, pleased to see that I’m affecting her. My right hand glides up her arm toward her shoulder, and I lead her into the correct form of a proper punch
. “Once you turn into the punch, you want to keep everything straight from your shoulder to your fist, because that’s how you gain the full power from your momentum,” I release a low chuckle, “and keep from breaking your wrist.”

  “That… um… would be bad,” she murmurs, her breaths coming in shallow puffs.

  “Ready to try it on your own?” I ask, like I have no idea the effect I’m having.

  “Um… yeah, sure,” she breathes, “but can I ask you a question first?”

  A sliver of fear pierces my heart, freezing it in place for a couple of beats, afraid she’s going to call me out on the shit I’m doing.

  “Sure,” I answer, attempting a less ‘you want to fuck me’ voice.

  “Have we reached the casual touching stage of our friendship?”

  She asks so innocently that I start to wonder if I’m reading her wrong, and I’m the only one affected by our proximity. This is followed by the overwhelming desire to feel her hands on me again-- her cool fingers causing rippling shivers of awareness as she traces the tattooed feathers on my back. I liked it a little too much last time, so when I saw how affected Kaleb was when she touched his wings, I knew I couldn’t let her touch mine.

  I step back from her, running a hand through my hair, and concentrate on controlling my breathing. “What do you mean?”

  Callie turns so she’s looking up at me, nervousness pulling at her features, and she’s back to biting her lip again.

  Brain and body are definitely not talking, as I reach up and gently extract her lip from her teeth. I pull my hand away, before I can run my thumb along the abused flesh.

  “That,” she answers, her arms clumsily shifting because her hands are still trapped in the gloves. “I mean with Nolan, he’s… well, Nolan. Touching and being touched is like breathing for him. Kaleb always invites my touch, holding out his hands or arms or whatever. I’m starting to get the feeling that Connor almost needs my touch, and he’s patted my head and sniffed my hair, so what are personal boundaries after that?” she snorts, then keeps rambling, her cadence picking up speed, “I can’t exactly touch Felix, but if I could, I imagine he’d be okay with it. But with you, I don’t know, it always feels like there’s a purpose to it. You touch me because you need to show me something or get my attention or keep me from falling on my face… and I’m really only starting to get how all this stuff works. Wasn’t big on the touching before I got here, so I thought I’d just ask.”

  After that long ass explanation, she’s panting and swallows heavily.

  If you only knew how unnecessary a lot of my earlier touching was, though you’re right, it did have purpose. The wrong kind.

  The smart thing to do would be to tell her that I’m not big on touching, which is a fucking lie… sort off. I mean, I don’t go looking for it or anything, but if a hot girl wants to put her hands on me-- and plenty do-- I’m not going to complain. I’m like fucking catnip to the girls who want to fix the bad boy… save him with their love or whatever. Except I don’t need saving or fixing.

  “Do you want to touch me?” is what slips from my lips, because when it comes to Callie, I’m a fucking moron.

  “I don’t not want to touch you, but I want to know that you want me to if I do. Ugh, I’m not making sense,” she grumbles, finally settling her hands on her hips. “I really need a Dummies Guide to all of this.”

  It’s official. I’ve lost my damn mind.

  Slowly, I reach for her hand and watch her face, as I remove both the outer and inner glove. Her eyes follow my actions, watching the gloves drop to the floor, then my thumb massaging her palm while I hold her small hand in mine. Her breaths grow shallow, a blush starts to spread across her chest, and I can feel her heartbeat skitter when I trace the pulse point on her wrist.

  “Is this what you meant?” I murmur, my voice dropping to a low purr, while I place her free hand on my shoulder. Her skin is almost as hot as mine.

  “Uhhhh…” she trails off, her answer lost as she watches me remove the gloves from her other hand.

  The heat and the throbbing beat of the music make it feel like we’re trapped in this magnetic pull dragging us together. Shifting closer, I move both of her hands around my neck, causing her to press flush against me and rock to the tips of her toes. My heartbeat is a heavy thud in my ears, and my skin feels tight with the sensations of her exposed flesh pressed against mine.

  Her face is raised toward me, eyes wide and pink lips parted, so invitingly close.

  My hands glide down her arms, over her shoulders, and down her back-- my fingers digging into her soft flesh until they rest at the base of her spine.

  I lean down until our faces are only inches apart, and I can feel her feather light breaths against my lips. My gaze shifts from her eyes to her mouth and back. “Like this?”

  “Um… yes? Maybe? Is this okay with you?” she babbles, her pupils dilated to the point only slivers of silver outline the black depths.

  I hum an approval, as I can practically feel her lips on mine and know the taste of her mouth.

  “Should I expect two more for dinner, or do you have to head home like Kaleb did?” Nolan shouts from the door, and I fucking jump away from Callie like I’ve been zapped by lightning.

  A knowing grin stretches across his face, and he hits a few buttons next to the door, turning the music off. “Callie, my parents wondered if you could stay. They’d like a chance to get to know you.”

  She blinks several times, like the world just shifted out from under her. “Yeah, that should be fine.” She tucks some of her flyaway hair behind her ears. “But I have to ask my aunt first.”

  “Already asked, and she said it was fine,” he sings, strolling over with his hands in his pockets. When he’s only a few feet away, he adds, “You know where the bathroom is. There’re toiletries and fresh towels in there if you want to get cleaned up-- not that I’m opposed to sweaty you.”

  “There’s no way I’m meeting your parents for the first time sweaty and gross.” She laughs, and it comes out as a throaty purr-- a rich full sound that makes me think of things that are a really bad idea. Things not two seconds ago felt like a really good idea. Fuck.

  “Callie love, why don’t you head up? I’ve got to talk to D about something,” Nolan smiles his charming ‘nothing to see here’ smile that usually means there’s a lot of something going on.

  Her gaze darts between us, and I give her a subtle nod that it’s okay if she leaves.

  “Okay,” she utters, her fingers twisting together. “I’ll see you later?”

  “Tomorrow. I have to head home. Family dinner night,” I answer casually, like all that happened was a simple hug between us.

  “See you tomorrow.” She gives an awkward wave, then nearly speed walks out of the room.

  Nolan laughs once she’s gone. “Damn, man. She left like her hair was on fire. You’re losing your touch.”

  “Shut up,” I growl, not wanting to talk about it.

  He sighs, looking down at his feet. “I get it. She’s cute.”

  “Nothing happened,” I mutter and kneel down to pick up the gloves off the floor.

  “Yeah, I saw how close that nothing came to being a something,” he teases, then in a more somber tone, he continues, “I’m not saying don’t go for it. You want to and she wants to, I’m not going to judge. But Felix is in love with her. It’s written all over his face every time he looks at her.”

  “Felix is dead,” I grind out, walking over to the counter to drop off the gloves and retrieve my phone.

  I don’t know why I’m arguing. I’ve already decided Callie and I are wrong for each other. That I’d fucking ruin her.

  “Thank you, Captain Obvious,” Nolan scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Felix is dead, which means he’s going to eventually go through those pearly gates. All I’m saying is wait until he moves on before you move on her.”

  Gripping my phone, I stuff both hands in my pockets, attempting to shift the fabric so my hard-on isn’
t as noticeable. “Whatever you think happened, didn’t. I’m not going to move on Callie. She’s not my type of girl. I go for quick and easy, you know that.”

  He chokes on a laugh. “I wouldn’t go spreading that around. No dude wants to be known as ‘quick’. Easy is fine, though.”

  “You know what I mean,” I reply with a glare. “I don’t do relationships.”

  “I know.” He shakes his head, and with a rueful sneer, he adds, “Neither one of us would win boyfriend of the year awards.”

  “No, we wouldn’t. One of the reasons I don’t bother,” I shrug, ready to get the hell out of this conversation.

  Nolan releases an exaggerated sigh. “Fine. Whatever. Just don’t string her along either, okay? She’s tough in a lot of ways, but when it comes to shit like this, I think she might be even more clueless than Felix.”

  “You sure about that, Pot?” I taunt, a grin making its way across my lips.

  “Shut up, Kettle,” he fires back.

  We look at each other for a moment then bust up laughing.

  I laugh all the way out to my truck, where I find my shit in the passenger seat, and a note from Kaleb saying it was dark enough that he decided to fly home.

  Weird.

  Chapter 8

  Callie

  Mr. Campbell thanks the young woman who serves us our main course. It’s a seafood hotpot that I think may have literally every type of seafaring creature out there. She smiles, bobs her head, and exits the room.

  Mrs. Campbell dips her nose close to the dish, and after breathing in the heavenly smells, a dazzling smile crosses her face. “Alicia seems to outdo herself with every dish. We should give her a raise… perhaps offer to expand her and Margaret’s cottage, too. Anything to keep those two wonderful women happy.”

  Her husband chuckles indulgently, tucking her long, white blonde hair behind her ear so that he can place a sweet kiss on her cheek. Her smile grows, shaping her pale blue eyes into small triangles with happiness webbing from the corners, and she brushes one hand along his cheek.