—— CHAPTER THIRTEEN ——
“How?” With each step closer to the curb, Callie’s repeated question got louder.
“I don’t know,” Derek muttered. She rounded in front of him, forcing him to stop short and earning her a sour look. “This isn’t the best place to—”
Callie cut him off. “How did he know about Bianca?”
“Don’t look at me like I ratted you out. I didn’t say shit, and fuck you for thinking I would.”
“I’ve known you for a week, Derek. A week. So sorry if you haven’t earned the benefit of the doubt.”
“I’m on your side here.”
“You knew he was going to put magic into me and didn’t say a word. How do I know whatever this is—” she gestured between them, the small motion meaning so much more “—isn’t something he told you to do? Some kind of con.”
“Because he doesn’t own me. I work for the man, and he’s earned my loyalty, but you have, too.” Derek swiped a hand down his face. He took a couple deep breaths, and then continued. “I didn’t know he was going to put the magic into you. I mean, yeah, I knew he was going to try. It normally doesn’t work though.”
“Your excuse is that you didn’t think it would work? Great. So is that the case with telling him about Bianca, too? You didn’t know he’d use it for leverage?”
“I didn’t tell him!” Derek turned his back to her and took two steps away before reconsidering, and pivoting back toward her. “I had your back tonight, didn’t I?”
“You did,” she murmured. At least it had seemed that way.
Callie was in too deep. This world of mayhem was something she’d strived to stay away from. No matter how hard she worked, though, she couldn’t escape her destiny to be another lowlife. She’d thought she could be invisible on this job. Her name would be unspoken. The soul renters would be looking at Derek, not her. But the Charmer couldn’t let her get away that easily. No, he had to force her to be a part of it. To make her magical, like he was some bastardized fairy godfather. Cinderella had mice and a pumpkin. Callie could probably scrounge up some rats at her apartment, but her magic would only work if the rodents happened to be double-dosing on souls. Where was her happy ending?
Derek had proven himself, and she still tossed blame his way like a jackass. She deserved his disdain. What happened with Bianca was apparently public knowledge, which meant her other secrets could escape, too. The ones she told no one. Would people know she liked burning Bianca? Moreover, would they discover how disloyal she’d been in the past? Atonement didn’t have an end date for her. Josh played the card constantly. Was he spilling her dark secrets now, too?
“I didn’t mean to blame you. I just don’t know how he found out.” She deflated from her battle-ready, shit’s-about-to-go-down stance. There wasn’t enough energy left over to conceal the anxiety in her voice.
“Too many people with big mouths.” He didn’t divulge a name, but she sensed he had an idea who had blabbed. The truth of that knowledge lingered in the air between them.
Callie didn’t push, though. “Meeting with him exhausts me.”
“The Charmer has that effect on people.”
Callie narrowed her eyes. “He doesn’t do the same energy suck Tess does, does he?”
“No, he’s just an exhausting asshole sometimes.” Derek turned Callie around with an open arm. He kept it draped across her shoulders as they finished their walk to his bike.
“My place next?” Callie asked while strapping on her helmet. It was edging toward 11 p.m., and her early mornings at the Home had conditioned her to be in bed at the same time as a seven-year-old.
“You got booze at your place?”
“Not really.” The two beers in her fridge were lonely and cheap.
“Then first we’re going to the liquor store.” Derek revved the engine and cast Callie a look full of expectations. Climbing on meant agreeing to more than a ride home. Her beleaguered mind wasn’t game to cull a list of pros and cons. She slung a leg over the seat and scooted in close. Talking wasn’t going to do anything about the fear fused to her bones. Not yet. She was still too rattled, but she could find a few minutes’ solace in the way Derek’s body had acclimated to hers, softening as she cradled him with long legs and a tight hug. She nuzzled against his leather jacket until she could almost taste the rich scent. He waited until Callie had drunk her fill of the moment before pulling out of the space.
Vodka tonics might be magical.
The potato-based alcohol had been the smart choice at the liquor store. Tequila put her on the floor, and Derek didn’t need to see her in whiskey riot mode. The clear liquor was the safe bet, and Derek had proven himself adept at making the drinks strong enough for a firm kick, but mild enough to avoid the sense of immolation. Callie’d had enough internal fire for a lifetime.
Her minimal furniture put them in the same places they’d sat earlier in the day. With each round of drinks, he slowly migrated from the far end of the couch toward her.
“You look weird without your jacket,” Callie mused between the first few sips of her third drink.
He’d ditched the leather in the kitchenette when he made the last round. The aura of menace he projected didn’t disappear without the jacket, but it lessened. Or the booze was working. He pursed his lips for a moment, and looked himself over. “What’s so weird?”
The ends of each arm of his fitted tee shirt strained against his biceps as he casually draped his arm across the back of the sofa. His fingers grazed her shoulder and an unbidden rush of heat flocked to her chest. Callie scrunched her bare toes against the thin carpet. “I don’t know. You look deceptively normal.”
“Deceptive? I can’t be normal?”
“You know too much to be normal.”
He groaned. “That’s probably true.” He downed a third of his drink in a single swallow. How many of those would it take before he was drunk? At this rate, she was going to find out.
“It’s okay. I’m not normal either.” Tipsy was Callie’s best setting.
When he chuckled, the low lights in her apartment finally caught the light pink dusting the apples of his cheeks. “You seem pretty normal to me. Hot, but normal.”
“Well, as long as hot is a factor.”
“Hotness is always a factor, doll.”
God, was he right. Allowing him into the apartment had been a bad decision. As was the booze. Last time she drank around him, she’d lit a girl on fire with her freakish hands, and then she’d kissed him. They hadn’t discussed the latter at all, which could only mean she’d blown it. Epically.
“You should be wary, man. Didn’t anyone tell you the hot ones are always crazy?” Why was she playing into his game here? Sex appeal wasn’t really in Callie’s repertoire. She could get laid. That didn’t make her cover model material. Unless the vodka also put a couple extra pounds on her to hide the ramifications of eating like shit, she was pretty sure she was bringing basic to this party.
He rolled his eyes.
“I’m not lying. You underestimate my level of fucked up.”
“Or maybe you overestimate it.” He paused and downed another third of his cocktail. “We’ve all got shit in our past. Baggage. Whatever. Some people hide it really well. Doesn’t mean they’re better or less crazy.”
She took a sip, and another, and another, until her temples began to go mushy. “So you’re saying the hot equals crazy equation is false?”
“You always get so math-y when you drink?”
She planted her elbow on her thigh and rested her chin on her hand. His comment was flippant, but she pondered it regardless. “No,” she finally decided. “This is special for you.”
He skimmed his fingers in lazy circles on her shoulder, and emotions she didn’t want to examine percolated in her stomach. “There’s more to you than following me around. Tell me, who is Callie?”
The personal question should have stomped on the fluttering sensation inside her. Secrets protected her. If no one knew you, no one could hurt you. She waited for the inevitable fear to rise—that feeling of being stretched so thin that organs were visible—but it never came. “I’m boring,” she finally said.
“Not going to buy that one.” His palm eased to the nape of her neck. Had he moved closer or was it wishful thinking?
“I serve simple meals to old people at a retirement home for work. I don’t sleep enough, and I eat a lot of really crappy sandwiches. Boring.”
“Where else have you worked?”
“Are we counting indentured servitude to creepy, soul-stealing men?”
His side-eye glare was impressive.
Lying took too much effort. “I used to work at Southside Memorial.”
“Doing what?”
“I’m aces at serving food.”
“What else?” He had been paying attention at St. Catherine’s.
She didn’t talk about her run at being a nurse. Family came first, and that meant hard decisions. It was the right thing to do, but damn if she couldn’t remember the knife twisting when that dream had been stolen from her. The memory was enough to staunch the warmth Derek was stoking. He watched her with the patience of Job. No frown touched his face. His fingers didn’t press any more firmly against her neck. He just … waited. “This is how you get informants to talk, isn’t it?”
He shrugged. “I’m a good listener.”
She went for another sip, and discovered the glass empty. “New plan. This life story business should be a quid pro quo thing.”
He raised his eyebrows, but couldn’t contain the grin that quickly followed. “Oh yeah?”
“Yep.” She sat her empty glass on the coffee table. “I will answer your questions … if you answer mine.”
“All right.” He wet his lips, and continued speaking. Callie didn’t hear a word. That tongue, slick and tinged with alcohol, had quickly overwhelmed her the other night. What other things could it do?
“Callie?” He had been speaking. Shit.
“Yeah?”
“I asked if you wanted another.” He picked up her glass and waggled it in her direction.
“Is that your first question? Start with the easy ones. I like it. Yes, I’ll take another.”
He shook his head, but the grin hadn’t disappeared. Maybe he found intoxicated Callie charming. If so, it could prove very useful. She could learn more about him. She’d be safer with more knowledge, and that was her only reasoning for playing along. Or that’s what she told herself. Kind of.
“My question is still pending, doll: What else did you do at that hospital?”
She hated going first. “I was a medical assistant.”
“Why aren’t you anymore?” He was pouring drinks like he wasn’t also prying into the dark, tar-filled pit of regret she hid between her ribs.
“Don’t I get a question?”
“Quit being so pushy or I’m not buying you vodka again.” So he was thinking about this being a regular thing?
“I’m not drunk enough to give you details, but I’ll say having a meth addict for a brother makes it awful complicated to work in the medical field.” Bitterness oozed from her pores, but there was no point in attempting to stymy the flow now. Underneath that acridity overwhelming her body, a tiny anthill of relief reared from saying the words aloud.
“Makes sense.”
“It does?” She couldn’t quiet her incredulity. Unless you had an addict in the family, it was hard to relate. She’d had friends when she’d worked at the hospital. They’d told her to explain herself, break ties with her brother, and people would understand. But her life was not a made-for-TV movie, and it simply wasn’t that easy. In real life, bridges burned fantastically. Your family guilted and blackmailed you. You accepted it, remembered why loyalty mattered, and moved the fuck on.
“When people—mostly junkies—know they have a hook in you, they milk it until you’ve got nothing left to give,” Derek said. “Hospitals and addicts abusing the system go hand in hand.”
He handed her the vodka tonic, and then added, “Sorry he did that to you.”
Callie’s breath hitched while her body vacillated on the appropriate response. This too-attractive man understood her, which was either the best moment in the last month or the worst moment next month, when it inevitably fell apart. Her pessimist side had a long winning streak, but tonight, as the both of them let go of the awful day, she was willing to give in to a little enjoyment. “Thank you.”
He nodded, and sat next to her. She leaned against his side, and he curled an arm around her. He lifted her chin with a knuckle. “Hit me with your best shot.”
She almost kissed him. Her hand pressed against his chest before her brain realized he meant a question. She blushed at her mistake, but kept her hand on him, because she could. The thin shirt he wore let her almost feel the taut muscles beneath. Derek worked for the Soul Charmer by choice, but this was her chance to understand. Probably. “You understood what the Charmer had done to me.”
He nodded.
“Has he ever used his magic on you?”
His arm grew tense against her back, and he pulled her closer. It wasn’t for strength, but almost like he couldn’t bear to meet her gaze, like he wanted minimal intimacy if he was going to share intense truth, apparently. She understood, but it still cut. Once her cheek rested against his chest, he answered, “Not in the same way he did to you.”
The baritone of his voice was clearer when her ear was against him. The forced gruffness he injected may have disappeared when they were pressed together, but the deflection remained. Evasion was never lost on Callie. “What did he do to you?” she asked. Her even voice didn’t give away the concern rattling around in her brain. The small circles she traced on his chest might have clued him in, though.
Derek stilled her hand with his own, clutching it against his chest. His heartbeat thudded against her pinky and ring fingers. Silence and tight spaces should have been warning signals to Callie. Danger had found her there before, but while her heart hurried to match his rushed pulse, panic refused to rush in. Her anxiousness was different, milder and intriguing.
“He takes a run at me every so often,” Derek said, as if she was supposed to know what that meant.
Her soft hmm urged him to continue. “He tests me.” He paused, and squeezed the arm wrapped around her tighter.
She wasn’t going anywhere. “What do you mean? Like your loyalty?”
“He can read people real well. You found that one out the hard way. He knows I won’t screw him over.”
“Any man with that much power expects people to fear him, I guess.” She feared both Charmer and Ford for those very reasons. The Soul Charmer had the edge now, though, because magic in action, writhing beneath her skin, was goddamn terrifying.
“That they do, doll.” He eased his death grip on her.
“So what is he testing?” Pushing probably made her an asshole, but she had to know. It made her rotten to want him to be violated by magic, too, but deep down she did. She didn’t want to be alone. Derek might have stepped up for her tonight, but was that out of understanding? Delving into why she wanted this connection to him wasn’t something she was ready to explore, but the need wasn’t going away.
“Magical ability.” Two small, benign words, spat with the disgust of discovering a bone buried in a sandwich.
He masked the morose with vehemence, but Callie was too familiar with that dance as well. Her mom used to pull the same shit. But instead of the normal disgust with Zara, a pang of sympathy struck her. “He’s looking for an heir?” Her lightness was fake, but she was trying.
“Yes.” Oh. He continued. “You ever notice I don’t use that flask?”
“Well, yeah,” she said after a moment. They’d just been giving her something to do, she’d thought.
“It’s because I can’t.”
How much harder had his repo gig been before she tagged along? Callie had never even considered that.
“The Charmer’s tried forcing magic into me, over and over, but every time it just makes me really fucking sick.”
“Sick?”
“Worse than a week’s run of the flu. How fucked up is that? I want to be more involved in this business, but I’m not good enough inside to do it. I physically can’t do anything magical.” So that was the burn for him. All his physical strength didn’t count when it came to the renting side of soul magic. He was the man who could find solutions to any problem, except this one.
“You told me before that it’s about being morally ambivalent, right?” Callie asked, trying to soothe his worries. “That’s why he could use me. Maybe you’re too good for this line of work. The Charmer sure as shit isn’t good inside. I think it’s wonderful you aren’t wired like he is. You are good. To me.” She turned her face into his side and kissed the thin fabric stretched over his shoulder.
His muscles softened, but he wasn’t letting go yet. This tit-for-tat game was too much. “You’re good inside. That’s why you think that. Flexible morals and that goodness is why you can take the magic.”
She pushed against him, until he released her and she could see his face. His brows were drawn and his lips curled. Taking the conversation to a dark place was her fault. As much as she wanted answers now, to find out why the Charmer could force magic on her and not Derek, she wasn’t going to extract them. The cost was too high. “Then it’s very good I have you to protect me. I didn’t want this magic stuff.”
The lines on his face faded, and he keened his head to the right. “Why’d you do it then?”
“Agree to be a part of this?” When he nodded, she continued, “You already know the answer there. I’m doing it for Josh.” The emotion she packed into his name left no question who Josh was.
“But why? I get he’s your brother, but would he do the same for you?”
His hand slid from her back to wrap around her hip. Her body softened as one of his fingers found skin between her shirt and jeans. “It’s not about an exchange of sacrifices,” she said softly.
“Maybe it should be,” he muttered, stiffening his fingers against her side.
The instinct to rally to Josh’s defense was second nature, but it was hard to generate much irritation at a man who thought she deserved better. She’d had friends rally at her about ditching Josh, but Derek hadn’t told her what to do. He’d earned himself a little more honesty. “It’s hard to see it from the outside, but I owe him. He—” she paused, debating if the vodka was making her magnanimous “—he did what was necessary to keep me safe when I was in high school. He’s been my constant. Now I’m doing the same.”
Light danced in Derek’s eyes. He watched her too closely. It was clear he wanted more specifics, but he held back. Thank God. She’d underestimated how many times Josh would call forward that memory—the betrayal she’d committed, and how he’d sheltered her from the fallout. Those details weren’t for others’ ears. Not even Derek’s. Not even with another fifth of vodka consumed. The job for Ford would get her back on solid ground with Josh, and bury her secret permanently.
Derek pursed his lips. “You’re damn resilient for someone so small.”
Callie’s laugh started low in her stomach, and escaped through a big grin. “You say that like I’m built of steel or something.”
She wasn’t, but he damn near was. The forearm against her back went taut as he pulled her toward his chest. Her body collided with his, her hand curled over his shoulder. She squeezed the muscle there. She needed a distraction, or she’d lose herself in the sensations assailing her. The hard planes of his chest held firm against her breasts. The pressure had her nipples tightening. She should have worn a bra with some padding. The lightly lined one she had on was more feminine, but it also failed to conceal her response.
Callie tilted her head back, unsure what to say. Energy sparked along her skin, kindling something dark and needy inside. When she finally met his gaze, he looked angry. The calm blue of his eyes had turned the grey of a winter storm. His lips were still the soft pink she’d seen moments ago, but he’d thinned them as though he was about to bite out a snarl. Even his jaw line has sharpened, the angles severe. He looked like the brute he played on the job. And she liked it.
She squirmed, and a quick flash of desire passed across Derek’s face. His lips lost their tension right before he leaned toward her. Fire. Their kiss sparked pure heat. It washed over Callie in a backdraft. It only took moments for her entire body to be suffused with the bone-melting burn. The Charmer’s magic had brought flames to her hands, ones that made her itch to injure others. But Derek conjured a whole other kind of fire within Callie. This she wanted more of.
Derek parted his lips, and she accepted the invitation. Their tongues slid against one another in a needy dance. His fingers dug into her hips as he lifted her and pulled her onto his lap. Straddling him only stoked the blaze. She squeezed her knees against his sides, and he groaned into her mouth.
This desperate need to be closer to him overwhelmed Callie. She wouldn’t give him the complete truth about her past. This she could give him though. His hands snuck underneath the back of her tee shirt. His palms spanned her back, and the reminder of his size sent a fresh rush of heat through her. There wasn’t a safer place than at his side. She rocked her hips toward his, needing more but not knowing what to do next. Her body had flipped to instinct mode, but her brain was lagging. She edged up on her knees to lick along the outer edge of his ear. He shuddered beneath her. “I need more,” she whispered, knowing he’d take care of her.
He groaned. “I got you.”
His hands traced down her back to snag the hem of her shirt. He lifted it over her head, and then hissed out a curse at his first glimpse of her without it. “If I’d known you had fucking black lace on, this shirt would have been on the floor an hour ago.” He threw her tee across the room without taking his eyes off her barely concealed breasts.
Callie eased back on his lap to get enough space to reach for his shirt, too. The back of her hand glanced his jeans right before she yanked his shirt up. He hissed and helped rip it off with hurried motions. His chest was better than she’d imagined. Shadows highlighted each muscle on his torso, and she wanted to lick every one. But Derek had other ideas, and he was very convincing. Her bra met their shirts on the floor as his hands ghosted up her sides—eliciting goose bumps in their wake—and cupped her breasts in his palms. His lips were soft against her neck and his thumbs teased her nipples. She rocked forward against him, the hardness she discovered hidden behind his denim jeans encouraging her to do it again.
She grabbed Derek’s biceps, attempting to pull him closer. His strength might be a turn-on, but it stilled her from getting the closeness she craved. She started to say his name, to tell him what she needed, but his kisses cut her off. A quick, light brush of his lips against her collarbone, a little lick at her sternum, and he began to plant kisses lower and lower until his mouth latched on to one nipple. She whimpered as his teeth grazed her flesh and he redoubled his efforts. He was focused on her upper body, and with each touch he only made her crave him more.
She rolled her hips against his, finding a steady rhythm that spurred her need, but didn’t sate it. Derek’s kisses turned frenzied. They were both too gone to care if they were making out like teenagers. Maybe teenagers were on to something. She skated her hands down Derek’s stomach. Her fingers found the dusting of hair below his navel and traced it to his pants.
Derek pressed a gentle kiss to Callie’s lips. Softness wasn’t what she was after, though. Her skin was becoming more sensitized by the moment. Her jeans were heavy and confining. His bulky muscles could be heavy, too, but his heated body turned her languid. Hot stone massage via his hands? Hell yes. She hooked the tips of her fingers inside his pant waist, and yanked hard. His eyes widened and a deep rose rushed across his cheekbones.
“You sure?” he asked, his eyes narrowing.
He didn’t scare her. Her confidence brimmed as desire welled. “I’m not fucking subtle.”
“No, you’re fucking gorgeous though.”
She was ready to reply with a similar compliment, but Derek was done with banter, and Callie liked a focused man. He wrapped his arms around her, and turned them both, laying her on the couch on her back. He stepped away, and she instantly missed his touch. All she could do was watch as he deftly unbuttoned and removed his jeans and boxers, and then reached for hers. No matter how much of a hurry she was in, she wasn’t going to stop him from helping her disrobe. Warmth trailed behind Derek’s fingers as he dragged her pants and panties down her legs.
He took a moment to put on the condom, and Callie watched with fascination. Now would be the time for regrets, but she had none. If he’d faltered at the Charmer’s tonight, this would have been a bad idea. But he’d come through for her. He’d protected her more times in their short time together than anyone else had. It was nice to have a person who’d rally for her, and it was damn nice to have him naked and all to herself.
Derek’s kisses were no longer gentle or tentative. He went deeper with each one, taking control. She didn’t mind. He gave her enough of his weight atop her to spur thoughts of being delightfully small, but held back enough so she wasn’t crushed under his bulk. She’d expected him to enter her immediately, but he waited. As she arched her body in response to his fervent kiss, his length slowly rubbed against her. The inferno borne of this connection was hotter than any she’d experienced before. She dug her nails into his back. “Now.”
He kneeled between her legs. He traced the tip of his length down her sex and back again, his eyes locked on where their bodies would connect. She arched again, and he spared a glance up at her breasts before continuing to tease. She didn’t need to get worked up any further; she was already close to redlining, and this was turning her delirious. “Please,” she managed to eke out, despite the string of curse words ordering him to act funneling through her mind.
He didn’t need any further urging. Thank God. She didn’t need an extra soul to mask her from this act. She wanted him marked on her soul. The rushes of need and desire and connection fused in a miasma of pleasure. With each thrust of Derek’s hips, Callie slipped further into bliss. She grabbed at him, trying to pull him even closer. His lips found hers again, and she went flying over the edge.
She’d given Derek more than she’d planned, but as his body covered hers, she had no regrets.