Borrowed Souls (Soul Charmer #1)(33)

Pithy responses evaded her, and her initial thought—kids are always cute—conjured a nasty taste in her mouth. She shrugged, and it explained her discomfort and wistfulness and necessary secrets better than her words ever could. Derek nodded in response, and shoved his hands in his pockets, as if he was keeping away from her limited possessions now to avoid prying. No, she was reading too much into this. Into him. Into whatever weird magic mojo flowed between them that made her run her hand down the back of his arm. He watched her fingers glide along the black leather of his jacket, but said nothing.

She grazed her fingertips on the exposed skin of his wrist, delighting in the zing of electricity dashing into her hand. The rush of his deep inhale shook her. She should be setting boundaries. She blinked a few times and she stepped away. The pang in her chest was embarrassment, not disappointment. Mostly. “Should we get going?” she asked with the same false confidence she’d mustered when meeting the Soul Charmer the first time.

He cleared his throat twice before his voice became steady enough to reply. “Yeah. Bring a scarf, if you’ve got one. It’s fucking windy.”





—— CHAPTER NINE ——

Derek had been right about the wind. Callie’s cheeks burned by the time they parked the bike north of the square. They weren’t far from the art houses they’d passed a few nights ago, but the ticking muscle at Derek’s jawline suggested they were seeking bigger fish tonight. He focused on each small task as he packed up the bike, not even meeting her gaze as he took her helmet to stow.

She scurried behind him, doing her best to catch up with his long strides without stumbling on the aged brick sidewalk. Muffled Indian music slipped into the street from an open door a few storefronts ahead. They’d already talked food, so the chances they were about to dig into plates of excellent Tandoori chicken were slim. “So. What’s the plan?”

“Information,” he answered. His one-word reply may have been gruff, but at least he’d answered. Callie considered that progress.

“Riiiight.”

He paused, and she almost crashed into him. He pretended not to notice, but it was likely borne of distraction, and not gentlemanly instinct. “We need to keep a lower profile here.”

“So you’re not going to break any noses?” The teasing lilt of her voice bordered on flirtation.

He huffed, but a hint of a smile dashed its impact. “Probably not.”

“A little variety wouldn’t kill us, I suppose.”

He threw an arm over her shoulders. Lazy and protective. She stood straighter as the pride of being guarded washed over her. She wouldn’t lose herself, or drop the floodgates, but it was okay to enjoy this. Probably.

“We deal in magic, doll. So, let’s not tempt fate.” He pulled her with him as he resumed his course.

Callie relished the moment. Her hands were normal temperature, her belly was full, her brother was temporarily safe, her mom wouldn’t call until tomorrow, and one damn delicious man was at her side. Not fucking bad. Or it wasn’t until she saw the sign.

HEALING + RESTORATION + MASSAGE

The words, in an old letterpress font, were painted in deep blue on a closed door. Gold leaf had been applied for accent. Fear slammed a cannonball into Callie’s stomach. She ducked under Derek’s arm, out of his grasp, and scurried backward. Whether he heard her muttering, “No no no,” didn’t matter.

He hustled toward her, catching up quickly. “Don’t worry, we’re not going there.”

The strike of panic fizzled as quickly as it had ignited. Now, more than anything, she needed a night without madness. No freezing hands. No fire at her fingertips. No magic tugging at her. No blood. No pain. No tormented people reminding her of her brother. She couldn’t tell Derek without letting him see her. The scarred and terrified parts of her. Instead she said, “No soul stuff.” The words eked out as barely a whisper, but her widened eyes told him all he needed to know.

He nodded slowly. “Done.”

She pointed at the door. One of the chakra massage flyers was taped to a corner of the glass. “That’s her, isn’t it?”

His responding shrug read as an admission.

“What if she’s here?”

“She’s not.”

His confidence didn’t do shit for Callie. She opened her mouth to argue, but he cut her off.

“I’ve been working all afternoon. Remember? She owns this place. Her people—her customers—are here, next door, but she won’t be here tonight. She’s out of town.”

“How do you know?” Callie managed not to stutter.

“I’m not trying to screw with you. I told you I’d keep you safe. Don’t doubt me. I got you on this, Callie.”

Using her name shouldn’t have changed things, but it helped. Breath filled her lungs again, and her shoulders relaxed. “Okay,” she said with all the confidence she wished she had.

He held out a hand and she accepted it.

“Now, how about I take you dancing?” Derek smiled then, and it was the most rakish grin she’d ever seen. It warmed her body again. Her emotional yo-yo evening wasn’t over. Derek might actually be worse for her core temperature than the soul magic detector hands.

He wasn’t kidding about the dancing. Derek had brought her to a belly-dancing event. The southwest was rather lacking in Indian culture, but this spot brought it in spades. By day it was a restaurant, but a couple nights a week they hosted belly dancing and live music. The long bench against the wall—where Callie sat—was covered with plush pillows in vibrant shades of gold, emerald, sapphire, and other precious gems. As she settled on a ruby pillow, her earlier reservations wilted further. A thick swath of orange fabric was draped on the wall. Muffling sound wasn’t the priority in this place; they propped the front door open. No, this venue was all for opulence. It was miles away from her apartment, but worlds away from anything she’d known. That was more comforting to her than almost anything Derek had said to her. With one exception. He’d asked for her trust. He’d been sincere. She swallowed hard. She’d have to deal with that later.