Hecate's Gift (Ari & Soren Book 2)

Chapter 8 - Ari

Something lit up in my chest as Soren stepped from his car and strode towards me. He wrapped me in his arms without a word, and the rest of the world fell away. I breathed his cool, pine-forest scent and let myself relax against the strength and solidity of his body, feeling like a puzzle with missing pieces that just slid into place.

After a minute, I remembered Chris and stepped back.

Chris' expression was hard to read, but I thought I saw surprise and wariness, as well as something else I couldn't quite name. I didn't blame him. Soren was intimidating on several levels.

He wore expensive clothes and drove a pretentious car, had a slight Scandinavian accent, and looked like a walking magazine ad for distilled male beauty. Besides these, there was something dangerous in his eyes and in his bearing: the potential violence of a lion at rest.

"Soren, this is our neighbor, Christopher," I said, finding my voice. "Chris, this is my boyfriend, Soren."

Chris stepped forward and extended his hand, smiling. "Hey. Nice to meet you."

Rather than answer, Soren turned to me. "We need to talk," he said. Then he went inside.

I looked at Chris, aghast. "I'm so sorry," I said, shocked. "That was... really rude."

Chris' face was blank. "Wow. Is it something I said?"

"No, of course not," I reassured him. "I swear he's not usually like that. He must be... stressed, or something. I'm sorry."

"Hey, you're not the one who needs to apologize." He gave me a crooked smile. "I'll catch you later. Have a nice night."

He started walking back towards his own house and I looked after him, mortification burning my face.

Inside, I found Soren in our small kitchen, pouring bourbon into a wide, shallow glass. Alcohol didn't affect him quite the same anymore, but he still drank it from time to time. He tossed back the whiskey and turned to me.

"Do you have any idea what that was?" he asked. His eyes fixed me in place like a butterfly pinned to a board.

My concern at his odd behavior turned to anger. "That was our neighbor Chris," I snapped. "And you owe him an apology."

He shook his head. "That was a mwanga."

"A what?"

"A sorcerer, specifically one of East African origin."

"He was born in L.A." I knew that because he'd told me, along with the rest of his life history.

"It doesn't matter where he was born."

"Uh, actually I think it does," I said, offended on Chris' behalf.

"Not when it comes to magic. I don't want you talking to him anymore."

"Excuse me? Chris is our neighbor and a nice guy. And I'll talk to whomever I please." I chose not to mention that Chris had admitted he was interested in magic, or that he had basically already invited me to join his coven.

Soren's brows drew together and he frowned. "I didn't mean it like that," he said. "But we don't know him, and you need to be careful around anyone who might have connections to the occult. The Cavas are far from the only group out there who might try to take advantage of your power."

"What power?" I demanded angrily. "I can barely heal myself fast enough to keep up with what you do to me."

He stepped back as if I'd slapped him. "Ari..."

I winced with regret. "I'm sorry—I shouldn't have said that. I didn't mean it."

For a moment he remained stiff, but then he relaxed and let me draw him into an embrace.