Runes (5 page)

Will’s foot jammed the gas pedal, and he jerked the wheel, speeding into the passing lane. At his side, Gracie clung to the safety handle. He released a humorless laugh. “What are you afraid of? We’re immortals, remember? We can’t die.”

She glared at him, but gave an embarrassed laugh. “I forgot. But do you have to drive like we’re on a race track?”

“Yes,” he answered grimly, his mind filling again with the vision of bending Evangeline over his arm, and plunging his tongue into her sweet mouth. And then in a renewed burst of rage, he stomped the pedal and yelled, “Evangeline’s driving me fucking mad. She won’t answer me, and when I ‘Call’ to her, she holds her head and cries. She believes she’s insane and it’s my fault, but how the hell can I show up there and whisk her away? She’ll never come with me, and I can’t force her. To top it off, she’s sleeping with a mortal.”

This discovery had been the worst. Though his eyes had followed Evangeline the entire time he’d dated her sister, he’d never seen her with a man. Now, he burned with jealousy every minute of the day, knowing her tender body was loved by the mortal man more often than Will cared to know.

Given time, he knew he could persuade her to answer his ‘Call’. He had dreams of landing in Chicago and finding her glowing face waiting for him. Of dropping his luggage, and yanking her into his arms.

Nowhere in his dream did he see the dark, muscular man who never left her side. Sean Livingston. He suppressed another groan as he thought of her pale limbs stretched beneath that man’s body, and the tattoo that belonged exclusively to Will given over to Sean’s kisses.

Will rifled through his coat pocket for the pack of cigarettes he’d begun smoking again. As a college student he’d been a smoker, but had abandoned it when he woke one morning behind the science building, battered after being run over by a bus, but alive. He remembered crossing the street, preoccupied with lighting a cigarette, and reading a book. He'd heard the blare of horns bearing down on him. Shaken, he’d quit cold turkey.

It had taken years to discover his immortal state. Being into extreme sports had taught him that in addition to surviving the wheels of a bus, he could also take a fall skiing that would kill any mortal. After that, he’d pushed the boundaries of his body by skiing the most challenging runs. Today, he would teach Gracie the thrill of defying death on the slopes.

She blinked at his outburst, but sassed him fast. “If you want her so badly, go get her. Once she sees you, she’ll be unable to resist the ‘Calling’.”

Will glared at the icy highway. Freezing rain gathered at the corners of the windshield, and the taillights of the traffic created blurs of color upon the ice. “You don’t need to remind me I’m at fault, Gracie. But thank you very much. Now I can spend the day pondering the idea that I’ve driven my immortal mate into the bed of a black-belt martial artist and deejay.”

“He saved her from the rape, Will,” Gracie said.

Will gripped the steering wheel like it was her attacker’s throat. “Thank God for that. If I get the chance to thank him for protecting her, I will.” He sent Gracie a burning look. “How the hell can I convince her to come with me? That she’s my destiny? I screwed up. I thought a sort of mental dating would help her see the light, but I’ve only driven her away.”He slammed the heel of his hand against the wheel.

“Calm down, Will,” Gracie said slowly, twisting a long lock of hair around her finger. “I think that’s the answer.”

He looked at her, but the scream of metal against metal brought his attention back to the highway, making him brake abruptly to avoid the four-car pile-up in the passing lane. His vehicle fishtailed, but he righted it.

“What the hell are you talking about, Gracie?”

“You need to send her over the edge and into your arms.” Gracie’s green eyes glowed. “Make her see she won’t get relief from the voice in her head until she faces it.”

Will drew up, staring at the mangle of metal on the highway. Her idea was brilliant, really. It would propel Evangeline into his arms on her own terms.

“Gracie, you’re a genius.” The words died on his lips when he realized the passenger door stood ajar, and Gracie was streaking toward the wreckage. The blade he’d given her as a birthday present was tucked inside her jeans pocket, ready to slash her skin and share her immortal blood with the victims. In a flurry, he shoved through the door too, fishing in his own jeans.

* * * *

Will and Gracie fell back onto the snow, filled with the double high of having just rescued nine victims from their vehicles, while forced to ‘Make’ only one immortal. Then, they'd navigated the most extreme hundred-foot drops in the state of Vermont on skis. They lay staring upward at the brilliant sky, Gracie’s head pillowed on his bicep.

He kissed the blond head with a resounding smack. “That was an amazing run for a first-timer,” he said.

She laughed, and the wind ruffled over them, blowing a strand of her hair across his face. He wiped it away with a gloved hand, trembling as the first notes of a vision of Evangeline filled his mind. All day he’d tried to see a certain scenario, so when the new vision funneled into his mind, he embraced it. He needed to see her walking away from Sean Livingston and climbing on a plane bound for Vermont. He ignored the ice stinging his face, and the howl of the wind, tuned to an internal song. The vision swallowed him.

The strains of guitar music reached him through the walls of the art studio behind the mansion where he lived with his immortal friends. His palm pressed against the rough wooden door, shoving it open noiselessly. He inhaled through his nose and filled his lungs with the scents of a cold fire, carving dust, and the sweet, mouthwatering musk that could only come from Evangeline.

A sweeping study of the room revealed her seated cross-legged on the concrete floor, hunched over her guitar. Her throaty voice bathed him in liquid tones, blasting a hole of awareness through his gut. Into the gaping wound seeped the bittersweet need he’d been experiencing since he’d abandoned her on the bathroom floor. In his mind’s eye, he saw the inky lines of her immortal tattoo and was caught in a tempest of desire. His heart pulsed in his chest, flipped, and then raced with a deafening thud in his ears. Electricity shot to his fingertips, rendering them numb, and a shiver of heat dropped downward to enshroud his cock. If he didn’t take her to his bed soon, he’d combust.

Gracie had rolled onto one side and was staring at him, her heat fanning him. “Vision?”

He struggled to sit up. “Yes. When I see the visions, I feel connected to her. I think I’ll open my eyes and she’ll be in my arms, only to emerge burning for her two dozen times a day, then realize she’s in
his
arms. Which kills me.”

The wind howled through the valley, but he heard only the gritty sound of Evangeline’s voice. He was determined to hear it in person by the end of the week.

He stood, brushed snow from his clothing, and reached for Gracie, on the verge of another vision. “Let’s go home. I’ve got to put this plan into action with all haste.”

* * * *

Evangeline.

When her name first penetrated her mind, her fingers stilled mid-strum on the guitar. Her song came to a strangled end. Then abruptly, she tossed her instrument to the floor and screamed. She grabbed fistfuls of her hair, yanking until several strands gave way. They caught in the web of her fingers, jet and purple, like the most macabre moss.

“Leave. Please, please go, Will Cochran. I can’t live with this madness any longer. I want you out of my head. I don’t want anything to do with you.”

Baby, you’re meant to be with me. I know you feel it.

Shut up. You’re not real.

I’m real. Look into the mirror, and you’ll see the truth of our bond in the surreal glow of your skin.

I don’t want you. Once I did, but now I have Sean.

Once. . .
Will repeated, shielding his eyes. It was almost unbearable, hearing her say this.

They were bound.
Bound.
He felt the emotion rippling over her, raising the fine hairs at the nape of her neck. Her fingers twisted together, locking against him.

Will steeled himself, knowing he must push on.
You want me, Evangeline Don’t deny it. We’re linked. And you’re mine. Leave Sean. Let me come to you. Meet me at the airport, and I’ll be on the next plane to Chicago.

Get the hell out of my head.
Her cry broke from her anew, and now when she lifted her hands, she tore at her flesh. Her pale pink nails raked the vulnerable skin of her temples, leaving shallow furrows which instantly filled with blood.

Evangeline, stop. Don’t hurt yourself.
He grabbed his own hair. It did nothing to alleviate the stinging pain of the scrapes she’d created and tears filled his eyes.
Stop! Stop! Stop,
he called to her.
I can help you end this torment if only you’ll come to me.

The words dropped into her mind, rendering her instantly motionless. She stood amongst the thrift shop finds of Sean Livingston’s apartment. Through her eyes, Will saw the long purple sofa where Sean had stripped her clothes and kissed her laughing lips. To the right stood the computer desk and chair where she’d sat recording her song onto Sean’s laptop. After she'd finished, he’d removed the guitar from her arms, tipped her back and sank his tongue deep into her mouth. Even the mug on the coffee table linked her to Sean. Each morning he’d make her a 'special' brew with his expensive coffee maker.

She stared through tear-stained eyes at a brick wall. The metal artwork reflected the glaring sunshine from the high windows. A sob broke from her chest.

How can that help me?

Will began to shake and a wave of dizziness struck him. Again, he shielded his eyes, though no one was present to witness his demoralization.

It will lay that ghost to rest and you’ll see for yourself which man you need
, he responded.

And then into her mind, he spoke the address where she could reach him as he tried not to feel her joy.

“Where’s Evangeline? Haven’t seen her the past coupla weeks.” The head bartender stood wiping glasses and lining them up in neat rows on a shelf.

Sean settled the bottle of rum with a thunk and tossed the warm liquid down his throat. It burned a path to his stomach, but it didn’t burn the pain from his heart. He poured himself another. “Not feeling well. Headaches.” His tone warned the bartender not to say anything more.

Sean scooped his drink off the bar top and crossed the dance floor to his deejay booth. He opened the door, and was blasted by the heady scent of Evangeline. It hung in the very air. After she’d moved into his house, she hadn’t spent a moment apart from him. He loved to tuck her into the booth with him, drag her onto his lap, and ravage her mouth while the bass from the speakers slammed around them.

For the past week, since the night he’d played the recording of her song, she’d refused to join him at the club. An agent had swooned at the sound of her voice and signed her on the spot. Afterward, Sean and Evangeline had shared a bottle of champagne and the biggest breakfast of bacon, eggs and pancakes he could cook up. Then, he’d wrapped her legs about him and carried her to bed.

In the DJ booth, he set his drink next to the mixing board. Her long woolen scarf hung on the back of a chair, and he lifted it, wrapping it about his hand like a bandage. Tonight, he’d practically begged her to come with him, but she’d stared through him while fingering her temple with a forefinger. “Maybe tomorrow.”

His chest burned as he thought of her anger. How could she trust him? After all, he’d given the house keys to his so-called friend who’d nearly raped her. He bolted the doors, leaving her alone in his apartment. Then he’d called his sister Olivia and spilled his guts. Her take on the matter tormented him.

“She’s using you,” Olivia said.

Sean stopped walking and stared up at the black, smoggy sky. Anger tightened his words. “You don’t know anything, Liv.”

“I know she needed a place to stay, and you provided it. She’s been staying rent-free for months, and so she felt obligated to pay out once in awhile—”

“You don’t know her.”

“No, I don’t, because she refused to fly out and meet Mom and me, which means she’s not serious about you, bro. She’s a leech and you’re blinded by a pretty face.”

The annoyance boiling in his chest gave way to utter fury. “You don’t know a fucking thing about it. She hasn’t paid a cent because I refused her money. I
like
taking care of her. And as for the trip to New York, she’s not ready. Who the hell could ready themselves to meet you?”

Olivia went for the bone. “So now she’s turning away from you, prepared to latch onto the next poor sucker, who probably has more money than you, and a bigger place. Maybe connections to the music industry, which will fulfill her dream of being agented.”

His anger sizzled. “Shut your goddamned mouth, Olivia. I swear, if I were in your face, you’d pay for the things you’re saying, woman or not,”

But her words echoed inside his hollow soul. He tried to apply his sister’s thoughts to Evangeline’s actions and couldn’t. Evangeline hadn’t faked her emotions. He’d studied those dark blue eyes. She hadn't given him her body because she wanted something in exchange.

He stared through the window of the deejay booth and cranked the music. He watched the dance floor, crowded with undulating bodies, but he saw only Evangeline’s face as he’d last seen it: pinched and pale.

He grabbed his coat and burst from the booth. He shot toward the exit out into the night. As his feet pounded the sidewalk, he replayed their final conversation. She’d followed him to the door and watched him shrug on his coat. Her eyes had shone with tears, and his heart had surged into his throat like he was riding the Tower of Terror, prepared to drop hundreds of feet in 0.6 seconds.

“Evangeline. . . .”

Her eyes burned into his, leaving two bloody imprints of her on his soul. “I’m wondering if you feel trapped?” he asked.

She shifted toward him on her toes. He knew this body language and yanked her roughly against his chest. He buried his face in the short, fragrant hair over her ear to still the shaking of his limbs.

“No,” she whispered hoarsely, twisting the longer hair at the back of his head. “Not at all. You make me happier than I’ve ever been.”

“But you’d tell me if you needed space? If you wanted to go? Because what we have is too good to screw up, and if that means backing off. . . . ”

Her grip turned desperate, and her mouth sought his. They met in an inferno of need, their tongues wild. He drank in her scent—a mixture of sandalwood and vanilla she said calmed her—threading his fingers in her short hair, and forcing himself deeper into her mouth. If he’d thought she would allow it, he would have lifted her against the wall and driven his cock inside her. He rocked his hips into hers, urging even as his mouth pleaded.

But she tore away abruptly, her eyes clouded by pain and passion. She slid her mask into place, removed herself from his arms.

Sean’s muscles bunched, and he sprinted toward her. Through the streets he ran, weaving in between crowds, his heart racing in dread. Evangeline was hiding something, but tonight he would dig until he found the sinister root, and yanked it free, so the flower of their love could bloom.

He reached his apartment building with a stitch in his side, fumbling through his keys, gulping air into his lungs. The metal gates and grills were thrown aside. He was shaking more with each passing second. When he jabbed the final key into the final door, a sick sweat broke over him.

Evangeline’s cries seeped beneath the door. He batted it open and fell into the apartment, clutching his chest. He searched the open space and spotted her huddled in a chair, her knees digging into her chin as sobs wracked her body.

“Evangeline.”

He rushed into the room, his knees striking the concrete in the exact place where yesterday he’d knelt over her, making love. He reached for her now, but she flinched from his touch. She was bone white and rigid from crying. Hysteria twisted her delicate features like a blade in his heart. He might as well be dead, he thought. Without her, he couldn’t continue.

He bent to see her eyes. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

“I need to go for awhile,” she rasped, winding her arms around his neck.

“What?” he cried, clutching her to his body which rolled with spasms. Then he searched her bleary, bloodshot eyes. “Is this about drugs?”

“No, never again.”

“Don’t go. Stay. You can stay.” His voice broke, and he gripped her so tightly he didn’t know if she could breathe. But could he breathe at all if she was gone? Their bodies were matching pieces of a puzzle. Her head nestled beneath his chin, and they stood locked together from neck to knee. The sobs built behind the wall of her chest.

All at once, his muscles tensed, prepared for a fight. Power swelled within him, and he recognized this feeling all too well—it was the surge he’d gotten when he’d laid eyes on his friend trying to rape his woman.

Her quiet rasp filled his ears, and his body responded to her voice. It was the same tone she used when he was between her thighs.

“I need to go and see.”

“Don’t leave, Evangeline. You won’t come back to me.” His throat constricted on his words. She shuddered and he held her tighter to him. “We’re good together, so damn good. Don’t let it end.”

He stared into her ethereal blue eyes. They pooled with tears which bounced from her lashes and onto her pale cheeks, streaking it with sorrow. She swallowed and lowered her head. For a moment he felt her relent, felt her body cling to him as though she could never be torn away.

Suddenly she seized his face in her palms, and her mask was back in place.

“I have to do this. I’m sorry,” she said. She surged upward, her mouth and tongue moving against his tear stained cheeks. When she reached the corner of his mouth, she turned into him with desperation. Their mouths collided in a heart-wrenching kiss as their tears mingled, mixing salt with salt.

She drew away, and his hands clenched her waist.

“Don’t. I-I’m in love with you.” He’d never said the words before. They sank into the silent space. The need to make her understand how much she meant to him cramped his gut.

A sob bubbled from her. “I’m sorry. I’ve got to go.” She disentangled herself from him and stumbled toward the door.

His face numbed with terror. His hands were still reaching for her, missing the heat of her flesh. At the door she faltered. Her knees buckled, and hope exploded in his chest that she couldn’t actually leave him.

But she stooped, picked up the duffle bag filled with her belongings, and her guitar, then walked out of his life.