“You trust him?”
“Of course not.” Riley stood, pressing his palms hard against the surface of the table. “We need to find a way to trap Frederick. Maybe Kyra could…”
Xander’s snarl ripped through the room. “No way is she going anywhere near him.” Riley’s beast flickered in his gaze, and Xander responded with his own. “It’s too much of a risk, we find another way to get to Frederick.”
Alice crossed her arms. “Then we wait.” When both the men looked toward her she rolled her eyes. “Frederick made a deal with a Daemon, and that deal requires Kyra. He may be powerful, but he hasn’t got the capability to match that type of magic without hurting himself greatly. He’ll become desperate and make a mistake.”
Xander’s tone was harsh, leaving no room for argument. “Then until Frederick is out of the picture Kyra stays here.” His beast roared in his head. “She stays with me.”
* * *
KYRA
Kyra tugged back the blanket, blinking the sleepiness from her eyes. She froze, not recognising her surroundings as she took in the calming earthen tones and simple wooden furniture. Five lamps blazed, all different styles and patterns that didn’t match the rest of the décor.
She searched for her siphon crystal, finding it flush against her upper arm like it always was. Her chi stretched, and stretched, and stretched. Her power a constant thrum beneath her fingertips, charged to the point she was going to burst. She had expected her aura to ache, but she felt nothing except pure energy. Her body itself was tired, heavy as she swung her legs over the side of the bed, her bare toes touching the soft rug. A leather jacket draped over the armchair in the corner, a pair of trainers placed messily beneath. A dagger lay on the seat, the tip sharp and gleaming as if it had been freshly cleaned.
Where are my boots?she thought as she padded across the room, finding a picture of three children smiling. It wasn’t hard to recognise Xander, not with his hair and eyes. His grin looked so natural on the young, gangly teen, even if bruises did cover his face. His hands were relaxed around the shoulders of the two other boys, the skin cut, knuckles red. They all, she realised, were bruised and broken. And yet they smiled for the camera, the bond between them all clear even through the photograph.
An open doorway led to the bathroom, almost the same size as the large bedroom. The marble tiles were heated beneath her feet, so warm she wanted to curl on the floor and go back to sleep. The shower was open to the right, just a single glass pane separating it against the room. The bath could fit five, built into the floor with three steps leading down.
Her boots were beside the toilet, and since there was a white towel folded neatly at the front she assumed at some point she had probably been bent over, puking the effluence from her system.
Great.
She had no memory of arriving there, or puking, or going to bed.
The small window was endless black, the moon obscured by clouds making it night, or maybe morning.
She dared look into the mirror, knowing what the reflection would show. She reached for the dial for the shower, the bathroom immediately filling the room with steam. She pulled at her clothes, needing them off as she walked beneath the scalding spray. It stung against her skin, but she didn’t care, not until the coldness that had settled in the centre of her chest began to ease. She released the tie from her hair, the water cascading down to free the black ooze that had stuck to the strands. The water at her feet was like rust, and she stood there until it ran clear.
The cold air kissed at her skin when she shut the water off, shivers rattling down her spine as she blindly reached out for the towel. It was large enough to wrap around twice, and warm as she stepped back into the bedroom.
Xander stood by the bed, lashes low. She couldn’t read his face, his expression a carefully composed mask of calm which went at odds to the rigid lines of his body. He looked like he was going to snap, and clearly it was because of her.
Kyra remained where she was, her eyes instinctively checking his chest. He wore a t-shirt, hiding the damage she knew had to be there. “Do you have my bag?” she asked, voice hoarse. Probably because of all the puking. “I’ll get dressed and then get out of here.”
“Get out of here?” he repeated with a scowl. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going to go at one in the morning?”
“I don’t know,” she bit back at his tone. “Anywhere else.”
“Anywhere else?”
“What are you, a parrot?” she snapped, the excess energy inside her slithering like snakes, uncoiling and ready to strike. “As soon as I’m dressed I’ll be gone, and you can go back to whatever it is that you do.” The magic was wrong, noxious.
“You’re not going anywhere.”
She narrowed her eyes at the sleek aggression of his threat. “You can’t stop me.”
“No?” a growl, a warning. “How’s the chi feeling? You know, after calling on the fucking dead.”
Kyra felt like she had been slapped. “Fuck you!” the curse exploded out of her before she even realised, anger searing through her veins. “I never wanted any of this!”
“You keep saying that, and yet drama follows you everywhere.”
“I did it for you!” she was almost screaming, her voice rising as he gave her a mocking smile. Kyra sucked in a staggered breath, trying to cool the anger that rippled through her before she accidently released some of the energy. “I don’t need to explain myself to you. I don’t need to hear howdisgustedyou are by me. I’m leaving.” She didn’t care that she was wrapped in just a towel.
Xander blocked her in two strides, his movements as elegant as any dancer despite his size. “You’re an idiot who called the dead because of me.” A statement rather than a question. “I didn’t need any help, Princess.”
