Eleri Stone - Witch Bound

He let his gaze linger there as if he could determine that for himself through the layers of clothing she wore.

“I’ll have scars, on both. My leg is still sore. Alan couldn’t heal that one.”

“Can I see them?”

Her eyes dilated. “Christian...”

“Some other time? Maybe somewhere not quite so cold.”

“We need to talk.” His heart sunk. “Not at a restaurant though. Is there someplace else we could go?”

“You could come to my house. Our house. Gods, the timing couldn’t be worse. Raquel?” She shifted uneasily. Christian took a step closer and she looked up, smiling nervously. He cradled her jaw. “I promise, when this is all through, we’ll take the time we need to get to know each other before the ceremony.”

She nodded and bit her lip.

He stroked her cheek with his thumb. “This will all be over soon.”

Another tight nod. Bending his head, he kissed her, fast enough that she couldn’t easily pull away, gently enough that if she wanted to say no she could. She stiffened but accepted the kiss. She wouldn’t do that if there wasn’t a chance, right? And if this was just cold feet, only a decision to be made, why shouldn’t it be him?

The prophecy, the contract, both of their clans depending on its fulfillment. She was his even as he was hers. Always had been. It was possible that he was a bastard, but he fought for what he wanted to possess. If Fen really wanted her, he would fight too. He wouldn’t skulk around in the shadows avoiding them both. Fen wasn’t taking a mate—he’d never wanted one. In a strange way, Christian was helping. Saving Fen from himself and protecting Raquel at the same time. He’d take good care of her, make it work.

She made a small sound of distress and his heart clenched. Cupping the back of her head, he deepened the kiss, using every ounce of skill he possessed to tease out the desire he knew was there. She turned her head. His fingers flexed in her hair, wanting to pull her back. Her breath was shallow, her parted lips flushed, and the look in her eyes was miserable.

Damn . A cold weight settled in his stomach and he released her hair, let his hand slide over her shoulders to rest on her back. Her jacket was far too light for the weather today. He could feel her trembling.

Reluctantly, he straightened. “Let’s go get some food and then we’ll talk.”

The longer he could keep her from the talk she was so determined to have with him, the better his chances.

Fen stopped at the edge of the woods and watched as Christian swung an arm around Raquel’s shoulders and pulled her in tight. She didn’t look like she was breaking off their betrothal. Raquel smiled and tipped up her face. Christian lowered his head—how could he resist?—and took those lips, that smile, her . For a moment, Fen thought she might pull away. But what the hell would it matter if she did? She could reject Christian. Fen thought that she should reject Christian. But even if that happened, Fen couldn’t claim her. Raquel deserved better than a man who couldn’t put her first, who didn’t want children, had trouble with crowds and had never even kissed a woman.

Fen swallowed a growl and told himself he should turn away.

But he didn’t. He watched Christian lead her away, back toward her car, watched the taillights until they turned onto the gravel road. He shifted and retrieved the clothes he’d stashed on the back porch. Grace hated that he dressed in the cold. She’d wanted to put in some kind of dog door, but he told her he wouldn’t use it if she did. So she’d screened off part of their back porch where he and the crows could change in privacy. There was a little space heater in there, and she must have seen him come in because it was running now. He unplugged it and headed for his bike.

He wasn’t going to rip his clan apart over a woman. He wouldn’t betray a friend.

He knew what he had to do.

Raquel sat on Christian’s couch trying to figure out how to work the remote while he got changed. Eventually, she gave up and tossed it on the coffee table. Walking into the kitchen for a glass of water, she shook her head at the beautiful room. Christian hadn’t been lying when he said he’d built new to have every modern convenience. High-end cabinetry. A stove that needed the love of a gourmet, not a woman who didn’t start breathing again until she saw the microwave. The granite island was bigger than her bed.

Beyond the kitchen was a mudroom with pale yellow walls and white cabinetry, a bar with empty coat hangers and a line of brass hooks. Their kids would have used those one day—little hunters and witches—for their backpacks and jackets...maybe the occasional practice sword.

Christian had built this home for a family. He’d made it for her.

Why did she have to go and fall in love with Fen? He didn’t want her. Christian did. Christian wanted to give her his hand and home. He wanted children, she knew. It was everything she’d ever dreamed of and no matter how she turned it around in her head, it still felt wrong.

The doorbell rang and although she hesitated for only a second, she heard the door open before she set her glass aside.

“Hello?”

“Back here,” she called out, peeking down the hallway. Aiden. If she could get to him before Christian did, maybe she could talk him into letting her ride with the hunt into Asgard. He looked momentarily startled when he saw her, but then smiled and started down the hallway.

She didn’t know Aiden well and was unsure how best to handle him. As clan Odin he was responsible for all of the people of Ragnarok, people she’d placed in great danger with her reckless actions. He had every reason to dislike her, which she regretted. Christian and Fen not only respected Aiden, they both considered him a friend. And Grace...quiet, fierce, smart Grace loved him. If she couldn’t trust a Norn’s opinion about a person, who could she trust?

“Raquel. It’s a pleasure to see you here and looking well.”

“Christian’s getting changed,” she said. “But there’s something I’d like to talk to you about if you have a minute. Do you want anything to drink?”

He glanced at the stairs as if he’d rather chase down Christian. Instead, he declined the drink, followed her into the family room and moved toward the sofa. Taking the seat across from him, she rushed headlong into her request, not knowing how long she had until Christian would be down. “I want to cross with you.”

Aiden’s gray eyes narrowed, and she repressed the urge to shiver. Odins were always powerful, direct. Her own father had pinned her with just that kind of look whenever she was in trouble.

“If the Vanir’s locked in ice,” she said, working to keep her voice steady, “it will be quicker to have someone who can melt it than to take the time to cut through it.”

“Lois has fire-spelled several stones for us.”

Lois hadn’t mentioned that. If Raquel had spent more time considering the problem at hand rather than her personal issues, she might have thought of it too. But that wasn’t the real reason she wanted to go.

“What if I can bring Kamis back with us?”

Aiden, to give him credit, didn’t reject that outright. He regarded her thoughtfully for a long moment. “It’s never been done. He’ll die without the connection to Vanheimr.”

“Maybe, but he’s been in Asgard for a very long time. We don’t know what that’s done to him. Have you read Yoder’s report?”

For the last twenty years, the healer of a clan in Norway and his witch had been experimenting with how tightly they could constrict their portal without negative effect. His clan had adjusted surprisingly well to a gradual reduction in the magic flowing from Asgard. The early results seemed to indicate that if done in a controlled manner, people could adapt fully and naturally to Midgard, like divers acclimating to decompression.