Magic Unchained (10 page)

She was seventeen again, racing for the back barn and bubbling inwardly with the familiar refrain of “Sven’s home, yippee!”

The barn was cool with shade and smelled of first-cutting hay, forming a perfect backdrop for the sight of the glossy bay gelding craning around to nudge Sven, who stood at his shoulder, adjusting tack.

Cara stopped just inside the door and let herself stare.

He had his back to her and seemed bigger than he had even a few weeks ago, when he’d come home after his final exams, stayed a few days, and then headed off on a road trip with friends. Now, though, he had changed out of his college clothes—designer jeans and T-shirts advertising
places she probably wouldn’t ever visit—and into real jeans and a smoky blue, long-sleeved button-down that she and her mom had gotten him because it matched his eyes. Not that he would care about the eye thing. He was a guy, after all, and guys didn’t notice stuff like that—or at least not the guys she knew.

Then again, Sven was nothing like those guys. They were goofy and immature, clowning around and trying to impress her and the other girls with their stupid stunts and lame-o jokes. Sven, though… from the moment he’d come back to the ranch this time around, she had seen right away how he was different, how he was bigger, stronger, smarter, just
better
than them, just like her father had always said. He was way cuter than the other boys too, with his stubby pirate’s ponytail and the easy grin that said he was good with life and life was good with him. More, there was a vibe of power around him, offset by the gentleness he showed as he stroked the bay’s nose, talking softly.

He’d always had a way with animals. Her father had called it a gift and grinned when he said it; he’d tried to get Sven interested in training the ranch dogs with him, and then the horses. Sven hadn’t stuck with either for long, far preferring machines that went fast and far, but he still rode now and then, sometimes loading up with enough gear to spend weeks out in the backcountry… which, she realized with a jolt, was exactly what the bay was wearing now.

“No!” The soft cry was out before she could call it back.

The gelding snorted as Sven whipped around. His eyes narrowed when he saw her standing there. “I thought you went into town with your mom.”

She sauntered across the packed-dirt floor, using the
walk she and a couple of friends had practiced, the one that always got her asked to dance. When she was close enough to inhale the scents of horse and leather, and the hint of his college cologne being overridden by her mom’s laundry detergent, she planted her boots on the ground and her hands on her hips. “You were going to take off without even saying hello?”

“I’ll be back in a few days.”

“Bull. You’ve packed enough for a week. Longer if you’re planning on hunting.” And the scabbarded rifle said that was a good bet. Reaching out, she caught his hand and gave it a tug. “Stay. Please. It would mean a lot to Mom.”

“Just her?” Suddenly he was looking at her with a strange new intensity.

A hot flush climbed her face, though she wasn’t really sure why. “Of course not. I want you to stay too. And Dad—”

“I’ve already talked to him.” He turned away from her and pretended to adjust his rigging.

Of course he’d checked in, and of course her dad had told him it was cool if he took off. What else did she expect? The two of them were thick as thieves. She didn’t even bother being annoyed anymore; she was just grateful that she had her mother… who didn’t look right, wasn’t acting like herself, and had a doctor’s appointment for next week, though she’d sworn Cara to secrecy. Which was why she didn’t dare use it to convince Sven to stick around. Having him in the house, though, would put a gleam in her mom’s eyes.

She reached out, hesitated, and then touched his back, first lightly and then harder, splaying her fingers wide to cover the firm muscles beside his spine and absorb the
warmth coming through his shirt. He stiffened but didn’t turn, and she pressed her cheek to her hand, so she was leaning into him, against him, as she had done when they were younger, before her father had started keeping Sven to himself as much as possible. “Stay,” she whispered, aware that he’d frozen in place and the only sound was the jingle of the bay gelding mouthing his bit, impatient to be off.

“I can’t.” The two words came out ragged.

“Why?”

He shrugged her off and turned to face her, his expression thunderous. “I just can’t, okay? I promised your father.”

Tired of cricking her neck to look up at him, she climbed up on a nearby bale of hay to meet his glare. The moment their gazes connected, though, something strange happened; dark heat in his eyes stopped looking like anger and started looking way more like what she’d seen from the guys she hung out with, the kind of fire that said,
I’m getting hot and bothered and I’m wondering if you’re going to let me do something about it.
But where with those other boys it was something like a game, coming from Sven, the look seared her to her toes.

“What promise?” she managed to get out breathlessly.

He hesitated. “I said I would ride out and get a head count on the high pastures, check for signs of any big cats messing with the stock.”

Cara barely heard him over the urgent thudding of her pulse and the sudden knowledge that this was her answer. This was how she could convince him to stay. Guys were all the same when it came to the basics, right? God, she hoped so.

She leaned in even as a small, panicked voice inside
her said that this wasn’t just any guy. And as that same voice warned that she should stop, back away, and not make a huge mistake, she caught a startled-looking Sven by the collar with her free hand and locked her mouth to his. And kissed him.

Heat flared through her, made of equal parts excitement and the panicked thought of,
Oh, shit, what am I doing?

His lips parted on a muffled sound of surprise and his fingers flexed in her grip, but he didn’t jerk away. If anything, he yielded against her, not all the way, but enough that she let go of his hand to flatten her palm on his chest, right over his heart. It beat with a quick, jumpy rhythm that sent new, surer heat flaring through her body along with a heady triumph that made her feel suddenly powerful. She—tiny little Cara, with her ranch clothes and weirdly striped hair—was hooking up with a college guy. And not just any college guy. This was
Sven,
and he’d looked at her with heat in his eyes.

Sparks igniting at the thought of him wanting her, she deepened the kiss and slid her tongue against his, wringing a full-body shudder from him. His hands tightened at her hip and upper arm, making her aware that they were almost embracing, with her breasts just grazing his chest and their thighs a breath apart. She moved closer, bringing their bodies fully into contact, and the sparks went to flames. Head spinning, she pressed closer, feeling the solid warmth of his muscles and—

“Shit!” He tore his mouth away and in a split second his hands went from holding her close to pushing her away so he could stare at her. This time there was no mistaking his expression. And horror didn’t look nearly so good on him as desire had. “Jesus, Cara. No. We can’t.”

Flushing with a sudden echo of that same horror, she brazened it out, tipping up her chin to say, “Sure we can. So stay, please, at least for tonight.” She wasn’t sure how much she was offering, only that she needed him to not leave.

“Why? Why is it so important?” His fingers dug in as he searched her face.

But she didn’t know how to answer. She was flushed and freaked, and could only stutter, “I-it just is, okay? Can you do it my way, just once, and stay because I asked you to?” She hadn’t meant to say it that way, hadn’t meant to make him choose. But once it was out there, she couldn’t call it back. She could only wait and hope, knowing that if he really cared for her, even a little, he would—

“I can’t.” The two words sliced through her, as did the regret in his eyes as he let go of her and held his hands out at his sides in surrender, or maybe apology. He might’ve had those hands all over her only a few moments earlier, but now he seemed a zillion miles away. His expression was closed, his jaw set. “I’m sorry, Cara. I just… can’t.”

Catching the bay’s reins, he headed for the door, walking stiffly.

“You’re leaving?” She hated that her voice cracked on the last word, hated that she was all churned up, her emotions running right near the surface of her soul and threatening to overflow. “Just like that?”

“It’s past noon already,” he said without looking back. “I need to get going if I’m going to make the high pastures before dark.” But although that was what he said aloud, the subtext was all too clear:
Nice try, but it’s not enough. I’d rather be out there alone than in here with you.

Which was the story of her life, really. Her father didn’t want to spend time with her, so why should Sven? And her
mother… A sob caught in her throat, then broke free as a harsh, bubbling sound.

Sven stopped. Man and horse were silhouetted in the wide doorway, with the rolling hills behind them topped by a gorgeous blue sky. It should’ve been a postcard. Then again, if it had been, she would’ve torn it up. She didn’t need this, didn’t need him. Shouldn’t need anybody. It would be so much better that way.

“Christ, Cara… don’t cry.” He took a step back, but then stopped and just stared at her. With the light behind him she couldn’t see his expression, but that was probably for the best. The last thing she wanted was his pity.

“Go.” She waved him off. “Just go, damn it.”

He hesitated… and then turned away, climbed on the rangy bay gelding, and headed for the hills, like always. Only this time he never really came back.

The memory faded, leaving a wistful ache behind. But despite Sven’s apparent belief that their kiss had rocked her world—and not in a good way—it hadn’t really changed anything for her. It had—for her, at least—been just another good-bye, another disappointment.

“It was never about the kiss, Sven.” Her voice sounded rusty, as if she’d been silent far longer than she thought. Sure, maybe she had used the memory of those sparks as a benchmark for other kisses, other men, but her excitement that day had been more about being seventeen and outdoing her friends than it had been about him.

His fingers tightened on hers. “I made you cry.”

“I was seventeen. Lots of things made me cry.” Like being scared about her mom and not having anyone to talk to, lean on.

“That time it was my fault,” he insisted. “I shouldn’t have kissed you back, and I sure as hell shouldn’t have taken off like that. You can’t pretend things didn’t change between us after that.”

She pulled her hand away. “That’s because
you were
never around!
” She hadn’t meant to yell it, but suddenly couldn’t dial down the volume. “You missed every birthday, every holiday, every big event. And when Dad wanted to blame someone for you being gone, since he couldn’t blame himself, he blamed me. If you want to make that about the kiss, then go ahead. I don’t care, because I know the truth, which is that you’ve always lived in your own world, and it has nothing to do with geography.” Making herself stop before she said something she’d regret, she blew out a breath. “You don’t get to run away from home and still be part of a family, Sven. It doesn’t work that way.”

For a moment, there was nothing but silence.

She expected a denial or—worse—pity and an argument. Instead, after a too-long pause while his eyes darkened with sorrow, he sighed and said, “Yeah. Shit. I know. I was just hoping…” He shifted, tried to shove his hands in his pockets, didn’t have any, and settled for hitching his thumbs in his waistband, which made his sweats slip precariously. “I guess I was hoping that the kiss was the problem between you and me, because that was something I did, which means I could promise to never do it again. As for the other, hell, yes, I’m sorry, Cara. I’m sorry for not being around enough when your mom was sick, and I’m sorry I didn’t come back for the funeral. Most of all, I’m sorry that I haven’t ever been someone you could count on.”

Her throat tightened. “I never asked you to be that guy. In fact, I don’t need that guy—I can take care of myself.”

“You shouldn’t have to, not all the time.” His eyes shifted, and for an instant she saw the same heat she’d seen that day in the barn. This time, though, it came from
a different kind of frustration. “You deserve someone who’ll look out for you the way you always look out for the people around you, someone who’ll put you first and foremost, who’ll be there for you no matter what.”

Zane had said nearly the same thing, but where his words had put her on the defensive, Sven’s brought a burn of tears that forced her to blink too quickly and remind herself that he wasn’t actually offering. “Sven…” she began, but then trailed off, unable to find the words when her emotions were too big, her defenses too low.

“I wish I could’ve been that guy for you. And I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me.”

It was the apology she had wanted, needed from him. Or so she had told herself over the years. Yet she found herself whispering, “But?” She heard it in his voice, could see it in his face.

He exhaled. “I can’t promise to change. I want to say that I’ll be there for you… but it would be a lie.”

She didn’t know when the angry heat had faded. All she knew was that she was suddenly cold, almost numb. “Because of the writs.” The Nightkeepers’ code spelled out a mage’s duty to act first for the gods and mankind, then his king and the other magi and on down, with family near the bottom of the list.

He shook his head. “The writs aren’t the problem. I am. I can’t… I’m just not the kind of guy who sticks around. And as much as I wish I could change that—and by the gods, I do; I swear it—I can’t make myself stay put.” He spread his hands. “This is who I am.”