Witch Bound (Twilight of the Gods) (16 page)

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.

Chapter Sixteen

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.

“Stavern is an old clan. There’s as much human blood there as Æsir.”

True. “Don’t you think it should be Kamis’s choice? I understand that he can’t go home, but he might not be able to remain in Asgard now that Surtr knows he can use him.”

“That’s why we should do whatever is necessary to prevent Surtr from using him,” Christian said from the doorway, hair damp, expression grim.

“You can’t just execute him. If there’s a chance, however small, then we should take it.”

Christian didn’t answer as he crossed the room to sit beside her. He took one look at Aiden’s scowl and then said to Raquel, “You beat me to him.”

Aiden’s brows raised. “You know what she’s asked of me?”

“I told her I didn’t want her to go.”

Some silent communication passed between the men, and Raquel wanted to jump up and cry foul.

“I don’t particularly want her to go either.” Aiden scratched at his jaw. “But it might be good to have a witch. We still have the saddle we used with Grace. She wouldn’t have to ride alone. Less chance of her getting separated.”

Christian shook his head. “You can’t be serious.”

Raquel didn’t know if Aiden knew how to be anything
but
serious.

“We’re going in to neutralize a threat to the stability of the portal,” Christian continued. “This isn’t a rescue mission, Aiden, no matter how Grace thinks of it.”

“There’s more to it than that. The reason I came...I just spoke with Julian. He’s had another vision.”

That captured their complete attention. Raquel was greatly disturbed by the flicker of fear in Aiden’s eyes. “What did he see?”

“First, Grace was able to contact Kamis and he’s about as helpful as a fortune cookie. He told her, ‘There are many portals but only one bridge,’ which is what our own legends tell us so it’s not particularly informative. Grace seems to think he meant it as a warning.”

“About what?”

“We were puzzling through that ourselves,” Aiden said. “And then Julian’s mom called—he was having some sort of seizure, so I met Alan at their house. Julian said he saw the bridge collapse.”

Raquel could feel the tension in Christian’s body pressed against her side. “All the more reason to end this,” he said.

“Except that in this vision the Vanir witch is dead. We never get him out of the ice and the bridge collapses when we try to return home.” Aiden looked at her. “You’re coming with us.”

* * *

McGuire’s was a little roadside bar at the edge of town, as far away as the strongest Æsir could comfortably get from the fault before they started to feel it. There was a tension in a place like this. A sense of standing on a cliff. A tingle on the fringe of her consciousness, like a warning to turn back. But there wasn’t any danger in staying here.

Another mile or two and she’d start to feel the drain on her power. Even then she could survive for weeks without any negative effect other than feeling worn down and out of sorts. Longer would start to take a toll on her health, both mental and physical. But she was true-blooded Æsir. For the people who had some human blood in them—which was most clan—the effects were usually less severe, unpredictable depending on their heritage. Grace’s parents had been runners and she’d lived her whole life away from a fault.

Here, Raquel just felt a pleasant buzz before she’d even had anything to drink. Christian took her arm as she climbed from the car and tucked it beneath his. An oddly formal gesture considering their surroundings. McGuire’s looked like a biker bar. A short, square building with a faded sign set above the overhang to the front door. The gravel lot was nearly full. It was already getting dark and the neon lights hanging in the windows shone brilliantly.

“I was surprised you asked Aiden without me,” Christian said. “I thought you were afraid of him.”

“I hoped he’d say yes before you made it downstairs.” She glanced up. “I’m not afraid of him.”

Christian raised his brows.

“Okay,” she admitted. “Maybe a little bit, but you didn’t see the way he looked at me after the...accident. I trust him because you, Fen and Grace do. I can trust him, right?”

Christian squeezed her arm. “You don’t need to be afraid. Aiden wouldn’t hurt you...ever. The other night he was more worried than angry. He’s still worried.”

“He wouldn’t have given his permission if not for Julian’s vision.”

“No.”

She looked at him askance. “That’s why you told me to ask him. You knew what he was going to say.”

“I
told
you what he was going to say.”

He had, that was true, but he’d also very neatly maneuvered her so that her anger—if she was going to be angry—would have all been directed at Aiden not him. She thought about how Christian had been dodging her attempts to talk about the wedding all day. He seemed like such a straightforward man. Discovering that he wasn’t was fascinating...and alarming. Was he still playing her now?

Music spilled into the quiet night when he opened the door, a heavy throbbing beat that resonated deep inside her. She paused, looking up at her fiancé.

“Aiden does what’s best for the clan,” he said. “He always does. I’ll make sure you make it back okay.”

She touched his hip as she passed him. “Thank you.”

It took a minute for her eyes to adjust to the dim light and take everything in. The area behind the bar was lit and lights hung over each pool table, but there were also a lot of dark corners in the place. The floor was sticky and the music was loud. Not a place you could have a serious conversation. Raquel wondered if that’s why Christian had brought her here. He gave her a little push toward the booths along the wall opposite the bar.

His breath was warm on her ear. “The food is good.”

It didn’t seem like Christian’s sort of place, but they seemed to know him. The bartender lifted a hand and the waitress gave Christian a welcoming smile when she dropped off the menus.

“Do you want—”

His abrupt stop brought her head up, and she followed his gaze to a shadow of what would have been called a dance floor in a larger establishment. Here, it was just a cleared area surrounding the jukebox in a corner of the bar lit only by neon. She rolled her eyes when she saw the woman who had so captured his attention. Her head was tipped back, long dark hair tangled around the forearm of the man standing behind her. Raquel felt a flash of annoyance. Christian knew she had cold feet, but ostensibly they were still a couple. If he was going to goggle at another woman, the least he could do is be discreet.

To be fair, the woman was beautiful. Long-limbed and curvaceous. Not the skinny model type Raquel would’ve matched to a man with Christian’s traditional good looks. Her eyes were closed and her mouth slightly parted. Neon skated over exposed skin, making her look exotic and dangerous. And that really made Raquel jealous, because she’d never be either of those things.

Christian swore. “Fucking idiot.”

“What—” But the question died on her lips when the man standing behind the sex goddess looked up, right into Raquel’s eyes.

Fen.

He stared at her over the woman’s shoulder for a long moment before closing his eyes and angling his body away. But Raquel couldn’t turn away. She watched as his hand skated up the woman’s bare arm, as the woman’s back arched, pushing her full breasts higher. She watched as Fen touched his lips to the side of her neck.

“Who is she?”

“Carly Jones,” Christian answered. “She’s pack—She likes hounds. I’m sorry. I have to go talk to him.”

Carly was the pack concubine, that’s what Christian had been about to say. It happened. Some women valued control more than affection and whoever bonded a hound controlled them, at least sexually. Sometimes several men from one pack would bond to the same woman. It made it easier for the bonded hounds to compartmentalize their lives. No wife. No girlfriend. Just a sexual partner. And so long as she didn’t stray outside the pack, she became almost an honorary member and it didn’t usually cause problems of jealousy. The women and hounds who entered into that kind of arrangement did it purposefully. If Fen was dancing with the pack concubine, he knew exactly what he was doing.

Raquel couldn’t breathe.

The woman was nearly the same height as Fen, and his arm wrapped around her body just below her breasts. His knee slid between Carly’s thighs and his free hand gripped her hip to hold her against him.

Christian blocked Raquel’s view as he and Fen exchanged words—quite a few of them. The song ended, but Carly didn’t leave Fen’s side. She looked upon the confrontation with a remote and faintly amused expression. When Christian pointed toward Raquel, Carly turned her head to follow the gesture. Her lovely eyes narrowed.

Raquel’s hands curled into fists and she climbed stiffly to her feet. It wasn’t her place to intervene. Fen didn’t want her. She wouldn’t hurt Carly, surely an innocent bystander in this mess.

Raquel couldn’t hear what was being said over the noise in the bar. The game on the big TV on the wall. The people playing pool in the next room. The waitress brought the drinks and set them on the table. Raquel murmured her thanks without turning, all of her attention on the man across the room. Every ounce of willpower consumed by her fight to stay where she was and give Christian a chance to talk some sense into his friend.

A moment later, Christian walked back to the table, his expression grim. “Let’s go.”

Fen and Carly weren’t dancing, they were talking, but Raquel didn’t feel particularly reassured. “What happened?”

“I’m not going to sit here and watch him do this.”

“You’re his friend,” she said. “Maybe his
best
friend. You need to talk him out of this.”

Christian’s jaw clenched. “He’s made up his mind.”

Unwillingly, her gaze was pulled back to the corner. Fen stared at her with a lost expression on his face. When she took a step in his direction, he turned away.

“I’ll try.” She didn’t care if he didn’t want to talk to her.

“Raquel—”

Shaking off Christian’s hand on her arm, she stalked across the bar. She knew exactly when Fen realized she was coming after him by the way his body tightened. Supersenses and all. His back stiffened and his shoulders set, but he didn’t lift his head or turn around.