Borrowed Souls (Soul Charmer #1)(46)

“Then let’s go get some.” She could help her protector. Did that make her strong? Or at least stronger? Pummeling the bad guys wasn’t in her repertoire—as long as some seared skin didn’t count—but she could help fix this problem.

“You’re damn chipper tonight.” Bemused Derek was more fun than the sullen one.

“I’m ninety percent sure Tess selling souls would equate to some sort of magical war. I don’t want to know if such things exist. So, yeah, I’m here to help.”

He could throw some mean side eye. “Just to avoid seeing more magic?”

And maybe to hang out with him, too. “I’m a shitty soldier.”

His belly laugh shook the couch. Callie smiled and squeezed his thigh. “You underestimate yourself, doll. You did light that girl up last night.”

She winced, but he smiled and continued. “That’s not a jab at you. We do what we have to around here. Keeping her at a distance was the right thing.”

Scarring a person wasn’t ever going to be right, but she didn’t roll her eyes at his sincere attempt to comfort her. Callie’s morals might have slid down the bell curve a bit, but she hadn’t completely lost her grip on them, no matter what the Soul Charmer suggested. Still, Derek’s approval ebbed her guilt. Just a smidge. “Thanks.”

“I’m not up for a turf war, either, so we should get going.” He checked his watch, and added, “Joey should be getting home in about twenty. His wife usually shows up about an hour from now.”

“This is good?”

Derek made the move of raising and lowering his broad shoulders look so simple. She’d had her hands on them. They were much more stone-like than his nonchalant shrug projected. “He’s a real pious type. Uses souls to pretend it’s not really him tapping hookers.”

“I’ve got a cousin like that.”

“We all do. Joey will talk because he doesn’t want his wife catching any hint he’s been using souls, let alone what they’re being used to do.”

Derek laid his hand atop Callie’s. It still rested on his thigh, and the contact sent her heartbeat into overdrive, the sound pounding in her ears. He gave it a quick squeeze—not the tug to pull her closer she’d been hoping for—and then let go.

Once he stood, he reached into his back pocket. The flask’s black stone glinted even in the dim light from her single, 40-watt lamp. She accepted it without a word. When her thumb brushed across the onyx, all her pores expanded at once as a rush of adrenaline coursed through her. Derek helped her with her coat. Its satiny interior was heaven. She wriggled more than necessary as her arms delighted in the sensation. At least, until Derek’s fingers brushed the side of her neck. She’d been wrong about heaven. This was more than turning flush—her skin positively danced with energy and heat.

The change in her was obvious, and uncontrollable. Magic was a demanding mistress, and Callie didn’t yet know the rules. She rolled her head from side to side, as though she could cool her desire. She needed power over this. Derek loomed from behind. He no longer touched her, but she sensed him regardless. His breath fluttered past her ear in slow, even bursts.

Space from him might allow her to rein this in. She edged a little closer to the door, but not the full step that might suggest an invitation to be pressed up against the cheap wood. Letting go of the flask in her pocket to wipe the fine mist of sweat on her brow was eerily difficult, but once her thumb left the smooth stone, the intense rush left her. Being sandwiched between Derek and the door still held great appeal, but she was no longer on the sexual razor’s edge. She swiped the back of her hand across her forehead, and then grabbed the doorknob. Cold wind rushed into her apartment. The crisp air gave her a little more control, the ability to hide her almost-unhealthy attraction to Derek.

He held her scarf out. “You’re going to need this tonight.” Was his throat raw, or was she imagining things?

He didn’t make any extra efforts to touch her as they walked to the bike. He had to have been aware of how close she’d been to making a move. If only he would give her a sign that he wanted her to, it would alleviate some of her stress.

Ford might have assumed her harried appearance earlier was the result of worrying about her brother, and having to deal with his kind of people. Earlier that day was the first time she’d wondered if this attraction to Derek wasn’t also playing a big part. She pursed her lips as she strapped on her helmet. Her desire for him was real. This wasn’t a trick of the Soul Charmer. That didn’t make it a good idea, and it didn’t mean the magical world around them wasn’t complicating the matter.

Their relationship—whatever it was—was ideal while they rode his motorcycle. They didn’t have to talk, for one. As much as Callie appreciated solid boundaries and knowing where she stood, she was terrified of those conversations, of rejection. Derek couldn’t reject her over the sound of the motor and the wind whipping around them. They could both take comfort in one another’s touch without it getting weird. They didn’t need to talk about why her hands were wrapped around his waist, fingers just above his belt buckle. It was for safety. He’d told her to press against him to avoid the bulk of the wind. Maybe it was bullshit, but it didn’t matter. His warmth assuaged her fears, and the mix of leather and clean soap was so perfectly Derek it urged her to squeeze her legs a little tighter against his. The vibrations from the bike put them on the same frequency while they embraced. It was a simple joy, and Callie decided on the ride to quit thinking about it and simply enjoy the way his body was melting to hers.