Jessica Andersen - Magic Unchained

She tried to find a rational, logical response. All she could come up with was: “Bullshit.”

One corner of his mouth twitched. “It started that last summer, even before we kissed. It wasn’t so bad when I stayed on the move, but when we wound up stuck here together at Skywatch, I couldn’t outrun it anymore. I had to send you away. And then when you came back… Shit. It hit me like a godsdamned sledgehammer seeing you get out of that Hummer, all slick and dangerous, like a badass version of the girl I used to know. But at the same time you’re still you—you’re tough, brave, resourceful, and you’ve got the biggest heart of anyone I’ve ever met. I want that. I want you, Cara.” He kept his hands jammed against the stone slab as if afraid that if he moved he would reach for her, and he wasn’t sure what her reaction would be.

She wasn’t sure either. What was she supposed to think? To say? She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t string two words together, couldn’t do anything but stare at him. “Then why…” she began, then faltered. But although the question went unfinished, it vibrated in the air between them, just as sex magic had an hour before. Why didn’t you say something? Why weren’t you ever around?

“Your father warned me off.”

“My…” She couldn’t keep going. The oxygen had suddenly been sucked from her lungs, and not because she didn’t believe him, but because she did. She could practically see it, could all but write the script.

Carlos never would’ve allowed anything to happen between her and Sven—a winikin and a mage. And not just because of tradition, but because she’d never measured up.

Sven lowered his arms and turned to lean against the stone. He let his head fall back against the solid slab and looked up, though she didn’t know if he was seeing the animals or memories. “That was why I was all hell-bent on riding out without talking to you or your mom that day. He said he’d seen the direction I was looking, and told me to stay the hell away, that you were just a teenager and it was up to me to be the grown-up.”

And that too had the ring of truth, though she suspected there had been more to it than that. The breath whistled in her lungs as she tried to wrap her brain around this new information, tried to slot it into what she knew, or thought she’d known. Not about her father—she’d long ago stopped trying to fix things there—but about Sven. She’d spent big chunks of the past few years telling herself not to dwell on ancient history, but now it was there in her head, replaying that summer in such detail that she knew she hadn’t forgotten the past, after all. Now, though, the memories shifted and shivered, trying to realign themselves.

“That’s why you didn’t come back to visit after that summer?” she asked in a voice that didn’t sound much like her own.

He hesitated. “I wish I could say that was the only reason.”

Disappointment kicked, warning her that a small, stupid spark of hope had kindled inside her. Don’t go there, she chided, even though it was already too late. But at the same time it was ridiculous to think even for a second that she’d been the reason for his wandering. She might have been a catalyst, but ranging free was bred into him, bone and soul.

“I haven’t been a teenager for a long time.” It came out sounding far more choked up than she wanted to admit to being. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Carlos is still your father. Even before I knew that he’d saved my life the night of the massacre, I knew I owed him for keeping me and raising me like he did. He’d never really asked me for anything before that day, so I did my damnedest to give it to him all those years, not realizing that it wasn’t just about you being his daughter; it was about me being a mage.”

“And me a winikin.” But it was more a question than a statement, because that had never seemed to bother Sven. If anything, he’d been the first one to ignore the traditions when it came to class and status at Skywatch.

He shook his head. “No, never. When we first got here, I kept things to myself because I was trying to cope with the what-the-fuck shock of becoming a Nightkeeper and dealing with the magic and everything that comes with it.” He paused. “And let’s face it… you hated it here.”

“I… Yeah.” Even now, her chest tightened when she thought back to those months. She had bitterly resented being indentured without permission, and to the one person who could pull strong emotions out of her without even trying—or seeming to notice. Except he had noticed… and he’d sent her away.

“Then, when you came back, there was no way in hell I could say anything. Jox was right when he chose you to lead the winikin, and I knew I couldn’t fuck with that.” He shifted, looked at her with eyes that reached inside her and kindled sparks of desire amid the confusion. His voice roughened as he said, “I wanted to, though. Seeing you, being around you… Gods. So I took off. But I couldn’t get you out of my head. And when I got back here and saw you again… everything was suddenly right in the world, because I could talk to you, tell you some of what I had figured out. I couldn’t tell you how I really felt, though, because things were still so unsettled with the winikin.”

“But—” She had to break off and swallow past the huge lump in her throat. “None of that has changed. If anything, it’s going to get worse.”

The corners of his mouth turned up in rueful acknowledgment, though his eyes stayed very serious. “You’re not kidding.”

“Then why…” In the end, she could only get out, “Why now?” She was floundering in emotional waters that were way over her head.

His expression softened, going almost sad. “It’s because of what you said about regrets… and what you did about it.”

“What, you mean jumping your bones?” The words came out fast and brittle.

“Don’t.” He reached toward her but stopped short of making contact. “The humor-as-defense thing doesn’t work on me. I’ve had way more practice at it. Besides, I’m not just talking about the sex, though that was fantastic. I’m talking about not letting moments get away from us.” He paused, looking over at the cave paintings. “You’re right, you know. We may not have all that many moments left, and we owe it to the gods to use the ones we’re given to the fullest, and live without regrets.”

“That’s not exactly what I said.” Her voice didn’t quite tremble, but it sure as hell wanted to, because suddenly this all felt very real and important.

A corner of his mouth kicked up, then flattened again. “Okay, so I’m interpreting a little. But here’s the thing. I don’t want to go into the last three months of the countdown without you knowing that I have feelings for you that go way beyond what happened here today. And maybe us having a chance to see what could happen between us for real.” He paused, his expression caught somewhere between wary and expectant.

If he had kissed her then, she thought she would’ve gone up in flames, thrown herself at him, and agreed to damn near anything. He didn’t so much as lean toward her, though, leaving it her decision. She nearly cursed him for it.

“I…” She swallowed and tried again. “I don’t think… Damn it.” She rubbed both hands across her face, trying to get herself centered enough to have a conversation, or even a logical thought process. But that wasn’t easy when one part of her was busy singing a happy chorus of hormones, while another part was sending up warning buzzers. As she lowered her hands, though, her eyes were caught by the new mark on her forearm.

Gods. How was she supposed to deal with all that had happened in such a short time? Zane, Lora, Sven, the cave, the mark… it was all suddenly too much. Panic had her heart racing and sweat chilling her forehead; claustrophobia had her stomach knotting so tightly it hurt. “I can’t do this right now.” Her voice broke on the words. “I need some time, some space.” The last was nearly a whimper.