Broken Soul

But I owed Derek an answer. I said, “You were trying to answer her questions without trying to solve her problems. I solved her problems. It’ll cost Leo another small fortune, but with what he’s spending on this house, what’s a few thou more?”

He looked confused and mimicked me by kicking a cut piece of two-by-four out of his way. His didn’t cause any damage. “So . . . I need to solve problems, not answer questions?” He stopped at a cooler and passed me a can of Coke. He took a Mountain Dew for himself. We popped the tops and sipped as he considered my answer.

Derek led the way out the front door and partway down the steps, which had been salvaged and re-mortared from the burned original house “because they are part of history,” according to the expensive architect. We sat on a step, looking out over the property and the massed vehicles. I listened to the myriad conversations on the work space, watched a helicopter on the horizon, and saw a black SUV drive slowly past the entrance to Leo’s place. Seeing it cleared my head. “Make sure security is here all night,” I said to Derek. “Someone’s been tailing me, and might have been tailing others.”

Derek was instantly alert, and any anxiety over his lack of personnel problem-solving skills slid away. “I can put a shooter there.” He pointed across the property to the barn. “There’s a nice spotter location on top. Flat, protected from wind. We could put another guy inside the house. Talkies and we’re good to go.”

“Yeah. Do that. Now, you want to tell me what else is up? Because you’re—” I stopped dead. Spilling pissed-off pheromones. Nope. Can’t say that. “Upset.” Yeah. That would do. “More upset than just dealing with a construction site and a decorator.”

Derek frowned and studied the barn where he could put a shooter. He didn’t look at me at all when he said, “It’s this Enforcer stuff.”

“Uh-huh,” I said, drinking from my can, waiting for him to get to the point.

“How’d you deal with the blood-drinking part? And the sex part?”

I pulled in a breath that was part Coke and coughed. And coughed. Which wasn’t planned but was really handy for thinking of an answer to the sex part of the questions—which I totally had not expected. After about ten seconds’ worth of coughing, during which Derek’s face told me all sorts of things, I realized that he and Leo weren’t having sex, but that Leo had come on to him, with that whole vamp-blood-makes-it-feel good thing. This was delicate territory. And despite my win with the decorator, I wasn’t so good at delicate territory.

I rolled my Coke between my palms, deciding that the bare truth was my best choice. “Long story short: When I got here, I wouldn’t let Leo drink from me. Not ever.” I sipped my Coke and it burned going down, making me cough more. When I spoke again my voice was hoarse and rough. “I was afraid that if he tasted my blood, it would have given away my skinwalker heritage. But I got mauled when I first got to New Orleans and I couldn’t figure out how to tell him no when he offered to heal me. He healed my arm, got a taste, and he didn’t know what I was. So I was safe. Then I stupidly used a nonexistent Enforcer status to get something done.”

“I remember. You claimed to be his Enforcer without knowing what it meant.” Derek was darkly amused. “That was in Asheville, right?” I nodded. “Not the brightest thing, there, Legs.”

“Yeah. Stupid, I know, especially by Mithran law. When he needed me to be his Enforcer for real—” I stopped. This was way more confessional than I wanted to get with Derek. I didn’t want him this close. I didn’t want to share. I bent my head to my knees and wrapped my arms around them, hugging myself. Thinking. Rocking slightly back and forth on the front stairs.

If I was honest, I didn’t want to say the words aloud to anyone who didn’t already know. And I didn’t want to look at my reasons for not looking at the event again. Meaning I was a coward who needed talk therapy. “Crap,” I muttered.

I forced myself to go on, gripped my knees so tight it hurt, talking so fast it was a garbled strand of words. “When he needed me to be his Enforcer for real, Leo was within his Mithran legal rights to make it happen. Bruiser had been injured and his mind wasn’t working. His ability to do or think anything of his own will was gone. Mentally he was”—my free hand made flapping motions before re-gripping my knees—“basically a puddle of goo.” Bitterness laced through my words when I continued. “Leo used compulsion to force Bruiser to hold me down. Then the Master of the City forced a blood feeding and binding on me.”

My breath ached on the words, way deeper than I’d expected.

Derek cursed softly. I smelled his shock and his protective instincts as they kicked in. It was an odd scent from a man who didn’t trust supernats, and who surely didn’t trust me. I didn’t look at him, watching the helicopter as it moved away on the horizon. Seconds ticked by, neither of us talking, not looking at each other, staring out over the cars and trucks. High over the front drive, a hawk circled, riding the air currents. Gliding. Hunting. Free.

“It’s taken me some time to get over it,” I admitted long after the silence had become uncomfortable. “Okay, I’m still getting over it. I got some revenge, which helped, but not as much as I thought it would, to be honest. Mostly . . . I’ve just had to work through it. I’m a skinwalker. I understand the animalistic need to dominate another creature. In lots of animal life, especially mating rituals and pack dominance fights, one animal dominates another. Animals accept it or die fighting it. But I’m not an animal.” Liar, liar, pants on fire. I smiled cynically at my own thoughts but Derek wasn’t looking at me. I went on. “Resistance is normal for me. I resisted. He partially bound me. I found a way free. Now he’s apologized to me for taking by force what was his by legal right—according to his point of view—and might have been his by a more, mmm”—I searched for the words—“more socially acceptable means, had he tried to go that route.” I glanced at Derek, gauging his reaction.

Derek frowned harder. He had a fresh marine haircut, which was a pretty dreadful lack of style but he made it work, especially with that frown. It pulled his face down hard and made crevices beside his nose and down along his mouth. His dark skin had a slight sheen in the day’s heat. “I don’t understand,” he said finally.