Read Online Magic Unchained by Jessica Andersen - Free Book Online Page B

forehead, her hand cool on his clammy skin. “You’re on fire!”
    “Not literally, thank fuck.” He let his cheek rest on the top of her head, let himself breathe in the knowledge that even when things weren’t quite right between them, she cared for him, worried about him, loved him. Which still seemed like a fucking miracle some days. “I’m okay,” he said into her hair. “Just overdid it after pulling so much magic earlier.”
    It wasn’t until the words were out of his mouth that he realized he wasn’t going to tell her about the vision.
    And what the hell was that about?
    She frowned up at him. “You’re sure it’s just a crash? You didn’t get nailed by one of those animals, did you?”
    No, he’d been bitten by something else: reluctance. He knew that if he told her about his mother and Tristan, she would start asking questions that he wasn’t ready to answer yet. More, she would push him on experimenting with the eccentrics using any means possible, including dark magic. She didn’t care that he’d promised Dez he wouldn’t try to reawaken the hell-link—as far as she was concerned, he didn’t owe the Nightkeepers anything.
    Shit, he just wanted some breathing room. He wanted her to keep looking at him like she was right now, with the glint in her eyes that said she was seeing only him, Rabbit the guy, not Rabbit the pyro, telekine, mind-bender, warrior, crossover, or what-the-fuck-ever.
    He caught her hands when she would’ve started patting him down, checking for injuries. “I’ll be fine; I promise. I just need some food.” And a few hours to process things. Because as his scattered brain cells started checking in forduty, he was realizing that he couldn’t tell the Nightkeepers about his vision, either. His mother was Xibalban, after all. The enemy.
    Under any other circumstance, keeping this shit all to himself would’ve felt way wrong. But as Myrinne guided him out of the library and into the passenger seat of one of the compound’s ubiquitous Jeeps, clucking and fussing over him as if she too had needed an excuse to let their recent bickering fall aside, it all felt very right. There was a new warmth inside him, singing soft, half-remembered lullabies and letting him know that whatever happened, he wasn’t alone anymore, not deep down in his heart. His mother’s spirit—and maybe even Tristan’s too—was watching him, watching out for him. And thank the gods for that.

CHAPTER FOUR
     
    “Wait up.”
    Cara winced at the sound of Zane’s voice behind her, followed by the heavy tread of his boots catching up to her in the hallway. She stopped, though, and turned back, surreptitiously tucking the package of hot dogs she’d filched from the kitchen into her waistband at the small of her back, beneath her shirt, where they pressed like cold, sweaty fingers.
    He had changed out of his funeral garb—she suspected they all had, wanting to put some distance between them and the attack—and was dressed down in fatigue pants and an army green T-shirt, with a blue button-down thrown over it and turned up at the cuffs. On one level she recognized that he looked good, with the button-down deepening the blue of his eyes while the tee showed off the iron-pumping physique beneath. On another level, though, she thought that his eyes were too dark, his muscling too heavy, his face too much on a level with hers, when she would’ve preferred lighter eyes on a leaner, taller man.
    And it was a really, really bad idea comparing him and Sven. Besides, there was no comparison, really. One wanted her, while the other wanted to ride to the rescue when it suited him. And she just wanted to do her job for the next three months or so, and then leave all this—and both of them—behind.
    “What’s up?” she said, angling her body so he couldn’t see the hot-dog bulge.
    His eyes searched hers. “I wanted to see how you were doing.”
    “Fine.” Even with him, she didn’t dare be