Kathleen Collins - Realm Walker

She didn’t intend to hang around and wait for whoever called to show up. If she could get out of the Den before they got there, she could conceal herself in the night, memorize their signature and hunt them down when she was more prepared. Tony came out of the back room just as she passed the bar. Seeing her, he shot a narrow-eyed look at Miguel.

Her former friend rounded the bar in a flash and snared her arm in his cool grip. Tony’s palm was damp as he started to steer her back to her table. “You can’t leave yet, Jules. You haven’t finished your drink.”

She planted her feet, resisting when he tugged. “I’m not thirsty. Besides, I think it’s about time for me to head home.”

He released her and stood with his arms at his sides, palms out in a pleading gesture. “I really think you should stay.” Sweat beaded his forehead, the skin around his eyes stretched tight with worry. Either he feared her, or whoever was about to walk through the door scared the crap out of him. Maybe there was more to this than she’d thought. A thread of worry for her friend snaked its way through her.

“What is this, Tony?” She crossed her arms over her chest. She wanted to believe he’d been manipulated or coerced, but she wasn’t ready to trust him just yet. “If you’re in some kind of trouble, I can help. Whatever they’ve got on you can’t top me. You know I’ll kick your ass if you cross me.”

Hurt flashed through his eyes. “I’d never harm you, Jules. You’re family. You know that.”

“Then what in the name of all the dark gods is going on?” She maintained her stance, waiting for him to answer.

He opened his mouth and froze, eyes locked on a point over her shoulder. His already pale skin blanched to a new shade of white. She reached for her gun. At the same time, a warm breeze caressed her neck like a lover’s tease. Her breath caught. Her pulse raced. She stayed her hand though part of her still ached to palm the weapon. She shut down her gift but left the glasses on. She knew this enemy.

“Juliana.” The word, a whisper, floated down the stairs and wrapped around her, willed her to turn. She swallowed a sob of despair and answered its call. She turned slowly, hoping she was wrong, but knowing who she’d find behind her. Only one man had ever affected her this way.

Thomas Kendrick stood at the top of the stairs, looking as gorgeous as she remembered. His dark hair fell in soft waves to his shoulders. His brilliant topaz eyes looked her over from head to toe and the corner of his mouth quirked up in a smile. She forced her feet to stay flat on the floor, fought her desire to go to him, cursing the part of her that wanted him even as she hated him. The gods knew she’d tried to stop loving him. She’d even thought she’d succeeded until about thirty seconds ago.

He walked down the steps, eyes locked on her. Her mouth went dry; her palms grew moist. She took a deep breath, raised her chin and waited for him to reach her. His smile widened and his dimples flashed. Moisture pooled in her eyes. She clenched her hands into fists, nails digging into the tender skin of her palms. The pain grounded her, kept the tears from falling. Still she was grateful for the glasses. She wondered briefly if he could see past them. He always seemed to be able to, especially when it was the last thing she wanted.

He stopped just beyond her reach. She kept her gaze trained on his forehead, unwilling to meet his eyes. They stood like that for a long time—him smiling down at her and her resisting the urge to throw herself into his arms.

“You cut your hair,” he said finally.

She ran a hand through the maintenance-free cut. When he’d last seen her, it had been halfway down her back, now it barely brushed the bottom of her neck. Less for the bad guys to grab onto.

He tugged one short strand. “The streaks are new, too.” At the moment, they were cardinal red hiding amongst her usual black. He grinned at her. “I like it. It suits you.”

She hated the need, the yearning, the grin and the compliment sparked in her. Clearing her throat, she ignored the expectant look in his eye. “I have to go.” She thanked every god she could think of that her voice was sure and strong.

The smile faltered then disappeared completely as a muscle in his jaw twitched. “That’s it? After seven years, you have to go?”

She ignored the ire in his voice and found her own. Finally getting the nerve to meet his eyes, she whipped off the glasses and shoved them in her pocket. “Seven years isn’t my fault, Thomas. I’m not the one that left. That was you. Remember? Because I do. Vividly.”

His eyes shifted away before coming back to hers. “You asked for time. I gave it to you.”

Her heart constricted at the words. She closed her eyes and forced the sorrow that threatened to overwhelm her back down into the little corner of her soul where she usually kept it. Anger took its place as she thought of all the pain that could have been avoided if he hadn’t gone off to nurse his cursed wounded pride. She opened her eyes, met his with a blazing fury. “You call disappearing from my life giving me time? Seven years and you can’t pick up a phone, send flowers, a postcard, anything? And now you want me to be happy you’re here? Keep waiting.”

Thomas scowled, his eyes cold.

Juliana shrugged and pain tore through her shoulder, making her wish she’d finished the scotch. Thomas froze, his body possessing the stillness only the elder Altered could achieve.

“You are injured,” he said, his voice low, soft.

He always hated to see her hurt. She laughed at the irony, cringing at the bitter sound that escaped her.

The skin around his eyes tightened. He leaned forward. “Let me see.”

She shook her head. “I’m not your responsibility anymore. Haven’t been for a long time. I take care of myself.”

His brow furrowed and he reached for her. She took a step back. His hand fell away. “I understood you would be upset by my arrival, but I did not expect this level of...”

“Hatred?” she finished for him.

He laughed, an echo of her earlier bitter sound. “I was going to say hostility. You cannot possibly hate me, Joya .” Determination flashed in his eyes. “Was seven years not long enough? Perhaps you wanted more time? I’m tired of waiting. Your time ends now.”

Clenching her jaw, she ignored the nickname and the fact he was right. She didn’t hate him and she did want more time. She’d spent so long waiting for him to come back. When he didn’t, she resigned herself to the fact it was never going to happen. But now here he was, just as infuriating and magnetic as she remembered him. She wasn’t ready for this.

He seemed so unaffected by her, by her anger. She needed him to suffer the way she did. “I think you’re imagining more between us than there was, Thomas. It was just one night.”

His eyes swirled black in anger. Finally, the reaction she yearned for. One night didn’t even begin to cover their history. She’d given herself to him, but he only wanted what she had to offer if she gave it all to him. Everything she was. So they were United—a metaphysical pairing which joined them forever, no matter how much she might regret it now. The next morning he started talking about her role in the coven and announcing their union to the Council. Her head spinning with the enormity of it all, she’d asked for time before they told anyone. He took it as a rejection and not only left the room, he left California completely.

“You can tell yourself any lie you want. But don’t try it with me. It won’t work.” His eyes were still dark, but his stance relaxed.

She ignored him. “See you, Tony. Miguel.” She stepped around Thomas and headed for the door, not daring to breathe until she was safely past his reach.