[Southern Arcana 3.0] Deadlock (20 page)

“Guess so.” Gus dropped the shells in the sink and cursed again. “Couldn’t think of a more dangerous place to stick your dick? There’s a garbage disposal right here. I’ll give you two a minute alone.”

Gus wasn’t stupid, which meant he couldn’t have been surprised when Alec drove a fist into his jaw.

Carmen waited for Alec in the front room of the guesthouse. When he returned, one eye was swollen and bruised. There were red blotches on his cheeks and jaw, and split skin on his knuckles that had barely healed over.

She took a deep breath and asked the last question she wanted to hear the answer to. “What happened?”

Alec frowned. “What happened when?”

“What happened to your
face
?”

“Oh.” He poked at his bruised cheek and made a rude noise. “Gus is faster than he used to be—or I’m slowing down. I used to whup him nine times out of ten when we were kids.”

Don’t be paranoid, Carmen.
“Do you two beat each other up a lot?”

Alec’s amusement faded, and he reached out and looped an arm around her. “A fair bit. Sometimes the only way to deal is to blow off steam.”

“Okay.” The temptation to lean into his embrace was great. “Michelle thinks she’s figured out a way to fix the spell.”

“Yeah?” He gave her a little tug and guided her toward the cozy living room and its worn but comfortable furniture. “What’d she say?”

“That she has to do something to the magic. Turn it around on itself and make it into something else.”

Alec dropped onto the couch and pulled her down, tucked close against his side. “You’re nervous about something. You wanna talk or is it easier to just let it be?”

“I don’t think I have that option.” She had to stand, to get a little space so she could order her words. “When Michelle and Mahalia do whatever it is they’re going to do, that’s it. The end of the spell. No more potential for me to become a wolf. In fact, it can’t happen. And I’m good with that…I think.”

“You think?” His expression remained inscrutable. “Something’s still holding you back?”

“I thought it was you.” She’d make them both crazy if she tried to talk while she paced the floor, so she perched on the edge of the coffee table. “I mean, the first thing that occurred to me was that you might want it. But then I started wondering
why
I thought so.”

He stayed very, very still. “I’m a controlling bastard to be sure, Carmen, but not that much of one.”

Her heart skipped. She was fucking it up, making it sound like she was placing blame when she was only trying to explain. “The night my father left my mother, I heard them arguing. She told him there was no way he was going to take her kids, and he said he only wanted Julio, of course.”

The line of his jaw tightened, and his fingers curled around the back of the couch, like it was the only thing keeping him from reaching for her. “No offense, sweetheart, but your father’s kind of an ass.”

So calm, but she could feel the rage brewing beneath that façade. “That’s not the bad part, Alec.” Her throat ached, and her eyes burned with tears. “I ignored the seriousness and danger of this spell because my father is responsible for it, and surely my own father wouldn’t do something that could kill me, no matter how little he cared. And then I realized what it meant.”

His eyes said he knew too, but he just nodded. “And?”

“It means I spent twenty years thinking I was nothing to him, but it’s worse. I’m less than nothing.” The tears spilled over, but she couldn’t stop them. “My own
father
thinks I’m better off dead than the way I am.”

“Oh, honey.” Strong hands slipped around her. “C’mere.”

She fell into his arms, into the way he held her and the comforting strength he represented. “I know you’re not like that. Really, I do.”

“You know it,” he agreed. “But do you believe it?”

She wanted to, so badly. “I believe you’re a better man than he could ever be.”

“I’m a different man.” His hand came up, fingers lifting her chin. “I’m not a good man, Carmen. But even so, I wouldn’t change you.”

She felt the undeniable truth of it, saw it in his eyes. “I know.”

“Good.” A smile finally curved his lips. “I’m out of practice at dating, but I’m pretty sure we’re going about it a little backwards.”

“I think we’re doing all right. Well, except that I just cried on you. Then there’s the ton of childhood trauma I unloaded.”

Alec shook his head. “And I gotta say, I don’t usually lock a woman in a cage until the third date.”

He was nervous, odd when she was the one burning with embarrassment. “What’s wrong?”

For a long time he didn’t speak. His hand fell to her hip, a strong grip that kept her body tight against his. “I follow my instincts. A lot of times, I get accused of doing it without thinking, and some of those times it’s true. Now, it’s true.”

“You mean me,” she said slowly. His admission didn’t scare her, but the bewilderment and fear lurking behind the words did.

“Not just you. Everything. I’ve charged into your life and I’ve dragged you halfway across the country and this isn’t a fucking date and we both know it.”

“I wanted you in my life, and you haven’t dragged me anywhere. But you’re right.” Her rational mind clamored for control, but it couldn’t overcome her heart. “It’s not just a date. I’m falling in love with you.”

His fingers tightened and purely masculine satisfaction swelled through him. Then came a slash of fear, and he shook his head. “Not now, not yet. Part of what’s got me turned around is knowing the only time you’ve ever seen me without magic clouding things up is the first day we met.”

She couldn’t fault him for doubting, not under the circumstances, but his words provided an uncomfortable reminder. “The converse is also true, isn’t it? Your instincts might tell you something entirely different about me once the magic is gone.”

“Maybe.” He touched her cheek. “A couple of rational people might think that was a good reason to slow the fuck down.”

The words made sense, but every last bit of his body language defied them. “But this isn’t a fucking date.”

“Because you’re already mine.”

Carmen laughed even as a shiver of satisfaction ran through her. “Now
I’m
all turned around.”

“Welcome to my world, honey.” His fingers crept under the hem of her shirt, warm and rough against her skin. “There’s no up or down, but clothing’s optional.”

No sense in fighting it, not when the slightest touch flooded her with heat. “Take me to bed.”

Alec rose and lifted her with him, hoisting her up until she wrapped her legs around his hips. “I can do that.”

In a more familiar place, she would have kissed him, trusting him to find his way blindly. Instead, she bit the side of his neck, a little harder with every step until they reached the bed.

He growled and dropped her to the mattress. “Making sure everyone knows I’m taken, are you?”

“It’ll heal.” The reality was blunt, simple. “I want you to know.”

If anything, his eyes darkened. He pulled open his belt, dragging the smooth brown leather free of his belt loops before dropping it to the floor. “Might have to do it again, just to drive the message home.”

“Whatever you need.” She whispered the promise as she unbuttoned her shirt. Alec watched her movements, and he didn’t hold himself back. She felt the spike in desire when her shirt gaped open, and the twist of hunger as his gaze traced the satin and lace of her bra.

He needed
her
.

All their talk had been just that—talk. Desperate words detailing what they should have been doing instead of what they wanted more than breath. Rational people would slow down, Alec had said, and it was true.

But they weren’t rational people, not about this.

She held out her arms, and he came to her.

Chapter Twelve

Alec was on his third cup of coffee by the time Mahalia made her appearance.

She looked good. Her smooth dark skin bore a few more wrinkles, and her dark eyes held hints of worry, but some of those wrinkles were smile lines and there was peace in her gaze along with the sorrow.

Alec lifted his mug in greeting, then nodded to the window. “Just admiring the view.”

“You should see those mountains in the wintertime, after a heavy snow.” She sat in another of the rocking chairs with her own steaming cup, but the scent that wafted out of it was herbal tea. “No coffee for Michelle,” she explained. “I’ve switched out of sympathy.”

There was something comforting about her presence. Mahalia had been there for him during the rockiest time of his life, and the soothing timbre of her voice still gave him the hint of peace his own mother’s had never managed to. “Next you’re going to tell me you stopped smoking. For real.”

“It’s not good for babies, especially premature ones, even if they are shapeshifters.”

It looked like Mahalia finally had someone to play doting grandma to. Alec hid another smile beneath a sip of his coffee. “Not good for grown-ups, either. How many times did I tell you to quit?”

She flashed him a look and arched one dark eyebrow. “Do we want to talk about all your bad habits now?”

Bluster wouldn’t fool him, but it made him feel better. “Sure. Haven’t heard the list in a week or two.”

“And here I was, trusting Jack to take care of that in my absence.”

“Jackson’s busy making big eyes at the kitty-cat who’s got him wrapped around her dainty pinky finger.” Alec grinned at her. “Your little apprentice is all grown up and thinking about engagement rings and picket fences. Poor guy.”

“Uh-huh.” She rocked her chair gently and smiled. “You know I see through you, right? Poor guy, indeed.”

He wasn’t going to say it. He wasn’t going to give her an opening.

He
wasn’t
.

Damn it.
“And what do you see, Mahalia?”

Her smile faded. “If you don’t poke a little fun, people might figure out how bad you want something like that again.”

The words brought the expected pain, but tempered with something he’d never felt before—guilt. “I’m not supposed to want it again.”

Mahalia’s brows drew together, an expression of confusion that quickly turned to sympathy. “Oh, Alec. You really think your wife would have wanted you to stay locked up and alone for the rest of your life?”

No one ever said her name. Sometimes it grated on his nerves. “No, Heidi would rise from the dead and dent my head with a frying pan for even thinking it.”

“But you think it anyway.”

He didn’t. Heidi had barely believed in marriage, but she’d adored love. She’d be the first to tell him to grab at any chance of it with both hands.

No, it wasn’t about Heidi anymore. Maybe it hadn’t been in a long time. Alec set his coffee cup on the wicker table. “You know what my mother told me when Heidi died?”

“I shudder to think, honey, I honestly do.”

She didn’t want to hear it, but Alec told her anyway, because he needed to say it. “She said she was so very sorry, and it was a terrible loss, but I should try to remember that someday I’d meet a nice shapeshifter girl and realize that what I had with Heidi wasn’t real.”

Mahalia cursed softly, then leaned over and grasped his hand. “I’m sorry. That is some ridiculous bullshit right there.”

“Ain’t it just?” Alec closed his eyes and squeezed her hand. “Hard to think rationally about everything going on when Carmen’s high on shapeshifter magic. Get it the fuck out of her, would you?”

“That’s the plan, as soon as we can.” Her chair creaked as she rocked. “I like Carmen. She’s tough.”

“You’d know.” He opened her eyes and cast her a sidelong look. “Your poor house down in Boca Raton must be getting awful lonely. You’ve pretty much been in New York or Wyoming for the last year, haven’t you?”

“Mostly,” she admitted. “Retirement isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

The temptation to tease was too much to resist. “The Alpha’s been in New York and Wyoming for most of the last year too.”

She blushed and swatted his arm. “Smartass. We could talk about Carmen some more.”

Mahalia, blushing. Half of the supernaturals in New Orleans would have gaped. Most of the supernatural world would do more than gape if they suspected the leader of the wolves might have tender feelings for a spell caster. “You would pick the one man I can’t intimidate with an angry glare.”

“Hush. There’s nothing like that going on.”

Yet.
“Of course not.” He used his best bland I-believe-you voice. “How long does Michelle need to prepare Carmen for this damn thing anyway?”

Mahalia hesitated. “We didn’t want to scare her, not if it has to be done anyway, but I think you should know. It’s not going to be an easy process. That spell is a mess.”

Fear clenched so tight, so fast, he thought he might puke on her shoes. “What in hell did they do to her?”

“It’s not the spell, it’s the loose ends,” she said cryptically. “It wasn’t finished, settled. So there’s been all this—this extra magic, lashing around inside her. Latching on to whatever it can.”

It sounded more like a disease than a spell. “Can you get rid of it? I thought Michelle said she was sure.”

“She’s sure we can change its focus, turn it into something else. A protection.”

Which sounded like a nice, pretty way of glossing over whatever had Mahalia nervous. “Tell me about the loose ends.”

“You already know. You’ve felt them, haven’t you?” Her eyes darkened with sympathy again. “Magic seeks magic, even if it’s in someone else.”

So some of that desperate confusion twisting him up and dragging him back to Carmen
was
coming from the outside. It was relieving and horrifying, all at once. “So I’m a loose end.”

“You’re a complication, but one we can turn to our advantage. You care about her, and we’re going to need that to help her.”

“Whatever you need, Mahalia. Whatever the fuck you need. Just…make her okay.”

She smiled then and patted his leg. “We will.”

The worst, most damning part of all was wondering if he’d miss that magical pull. His life had been spiraling out of control since he’d found Carmen in that house, but the fear of stumbling from one day to the next had been blunted by the pleasure of falling into her.