Flamebound A Lone Star Witch No(41)

Declan turns the corner quickly—too quickly—and my uneasy stomach revolts. “Pull over!” I tell him, already reaching for the door handle.

Thank the goddess it’s so early and no one is on the normally crowded downtown streets. Declan yanks the car over to the curb within seconds, and before he can even turn the thing off, I’m leaning out the door, getting sick.

Another thing I’m very tired of. And another black mark against Declan on my list. I know he’s just trying to help, but sometimes I don’t want his help. Don’t need it. These are my powers and I have to learn to deal with them on my own. Counting on him to always be there to do it for me is not an option. Not when he can disappear on a whim—for hours or years—and not when he doesn’t feel what I feel. See what I see.

Ceding control of my powers over to him is a stupid move, any way I think about it—especially with the darkness that is so much a part of him. I felt a little bit of that darkness when we were down in the ACW headquarters, and while I understand where it comes from, I don’t want it inside me, affecting my powers. Not now. Not ever.

Declan opens the other passenger door, crawls in beside me and holds my hair away from my face as I empty my stomach of the last of the water I drank before leaving home tonight. Then I’m back to dry heaves. So. Much. Fun.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he tells me as he tenderly strokes my hair. Then he’s murmuring again, and though I can feel a soothing warmth seeping out of his hand and into my head—a warmth that eases the worst edges of my headache—I knock his hand away.

“Stop that!”

“You’re sick.”

“Because of your damn magic, so excuse me if I don’t want any more of it.”

He stiffens and I know I’ve struck a direct blow. I feel bad, but not bad enough to try to take the words back.

“Xandra, be reasonable,” he says, still trying to touch me. “Why should you suffer when you don’t have to?”

“Because it’s my choice! My body! My life!” I stop because I’m heaving again, which pisses me off more—especially considering how it underscores his point.

He grinds his teeth, but he sits back. Let’s me finish being sick in peace.

When it’s finally over, I close the car door and lean weakly against the seat. Declan hands me a bottle of water, waits patiently while I rinse my mouth a few times and then drink thirstily. I know it’s killing him, but he doesn’t touch me, doesn’t try to heal me or help me or do anything else that might set me off. And in doing so, he manages to calm the anger that’s been batting around inside me since I woke up in this goddess-forsaken automobile.

Exhausted despite my magically induced nap, I lean against Declan. I sigh as his heat finally manages to permeate the cold that has enveloped me so long I’ve begun to think of it as a permanent fixture.

Declan relaxes slowly, inch by inch. I cuddle closer, and—with a sigh—he wraps his arm around my shoulder. Pulls me against his chest. Drops soft kisses over my hair and forehead.

“You scared the hell out of me tonight.”

I snort. “And you weren’t even around for the main attraction.”

“So Lily told me.” His grip tightens. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

“That’s okay. I’m not sure I’d want you to see me seizing in the middle of the kitchen floor anyway.”

“Fuck. Is that what happened?”

“Kind of.” I tell him as much as I can remember—some of it is blurry because of the convulsions, but Declan definitely gets the gist of it. I can tell by the way he grows more and more grim.

When I’m finally done telling my story, he drops his head until his forehead rests against my temple. “I don’t know if I can take it if your empathic magic gets any stronger.”

“I don’t understand. You think my magic turned against me?”

I really hope that’s not the case, because if it is, experiences like that will only get worse as my power gets stronger. And I’m smart enough to know that if Declan had been there, if he had seen what had happened to me, he wouldn’t handle it well. Though I’m terrified of the darkness I feel inside me, darkness that can only come from him, that doesn’t mean I want to lose him. After all, he left me once for my own good, and though he’s promised never to do it again, I’m not sure I believe him. The man who would take on the ACW to keep me safe, who would risk being accused of a Councilor’s murder rather than leave me alone, is more than capable of walking away if he thought it would keep me safe. Especially if being near him is what grows my magic, which in turn ends up hurting me the most.