Borrowed Souls (Soul Charmer #1)(21)

A shiver spiked down Callie’s spine. Great. Clenching the tray did little to alleviate her anxiety. She spared another look at the screen. The camera had refocused on the reporter, but in the background, fidgeting with her overly long braid, was the massage therapist Callie had met in the hallway moments ago. She was positive it was her. Did the masseuse know Ford? Did she work for him?

The blood drained from her face as realization dawned on her. Had she been sent to check up on Callie?

This world was officially too fucking small.

Mundane work would have to be her savior. She would simply have to focus on completing one task at a time instead of letting her mind wander. She brought the first tray in. Her hands didn’t freeze. Normal hands. The resident was sleeping, so that probably helped. She ducked in and out of room after room, avoiding eye contact and moving as fast as possible without sending food flying to the floor. In three of the rooms, though, she had difficulty letting go of the tray. Her icicle fingers flipped on and off faster than the residents skipped through the game show channels. Was she having some kind of a weird allergic reaction to some of the patients? Delivering food had never been so difficult before.

She’d been right last night. The Soul Charmer had done something to her. Derek might be quiet, and bigger than a Mack truck, but she was going to make him talk tonight. Or she’d let her icy fingers break his beloved motorcycle, piece by piece, until he did.


Hard gusts of wind shoved Callie toward her apartment building. After the frigid hands issue earlier, she was kicking herself exceptionally hard for foregoing her winter coat that morning. She tugged her sweater closer and charged up the stairs, only to be blocked from entering by Derek’s hulking form.

His heavy shoulder pressed against her door. No disguising he’d been waiting. Of course he has, her mind growled. She’d spent half her day practicing the way she’d rail on him, and how she’d storm up to him outside the Soul Charmer’s store. She would have moved with lethal grace, like she knew what the hell she was doing. She would have kicked his stupid bike if he grunted at her. She had been preparing to become someone he wouldn’t deny answers to.

And he’d ruined it with his impromptu visit. Heat rushed to Callie’s face. She was still angry about yesterday, and Lord knew she wanted immediate answers about her fingers going into lockdown mode in the psych ward, but right now, teetering halfway up the stairs to her apartment, her ire was singular. She was livid he’d stolen her control. Now she was cold, off balance, and—with an audible gurgle from her stomach to remind her—hungry. He was probably going to want her to make him a sandwich, too. Well, she was out of turkey for jackasses.

“You’re early.” His low rumble was too husky for anything other than straight from bed. Lucky bastard.

“Actually, you’re the one who’s early.” Callie resumed walking to her apartment. “We aren’t supposed to meet for another couple hours.”

He shrugged, but didn’t call out that she specifically hadn’t made plans.

Control was slipping through her fingers, and that was not acceptable. “Look. Jobs have start times and end times. And some of us have more than one job.”

He didn’t reply, nor did he move when she arrived at her door.

She sighed. First Ford sent someone to covertly check on her. Now Derek had demolished her chance at even a momentary respite before whatever soul magic bullshit he had on the agenda for that night. “I can’t open the door with you draping yourself on it.”

“You inviting me in?”

“No.”

He pushed himself off the door. Callie half expected a dent to mark the center. An unsigned Derek was Here. “Thought you’d want to talk, that’s all.”

She did want to talk, but this wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. “You’re going to answer my questions?” Her disbelief was blatant, but what was the point of hiding it now? Kind of hard to act aloof and badass when she’d stumbled at the sight of him moments earlier.

His tone softened. “That was the idea. Yeah.”

She unlocked the door.

Derek loomed behind her.

She dropped her purse between her feet. He gave it a curious gaze when the bag made a soft thunk. His mind probably conjured images of weaponry. Good. He didn’t need to know she’d stuffed a paperback romance novel in there for her lunchtime read. She edged her apartment door open six inches, just enough to reach around the corner to the coat hook. She snatched her grey wool coat, closed the door, and then slipped her arms inside.

“We can talk. Just not here.”

Derek glanced at the closed door. His jaw flexed and Callie could tell he’d hoped to poke around her pad. No such luck. He watched her as she began buttoning up. “Where should we go, then?” He threw a silky tone over the words, like he wanted her to think of hotel rooms and not flop houses. How nice. She was a master when it came to bullshit, though. She’d reclaimed control, and somebody wasn’t too pleased.

“Dott’s.” She named her favorite greasy spoon. The food was cheap, good, and they slathered pretty much everything in butter, including the burgers.

Tension ebbed from his face. Callie’s muscles ached for him, constantly clenching and releasing. She could see trust wouldn’t come easily with him, but she recognized a little too much of herself when he lowered the internal weapons. He wanted to trust her. She shouldn’t have liked it or cared, but she did. On both counts. “Good choice.”