Exiled (3 page)

“I don’t know.” Jarrod’s eyes darkened and he rubbed at his forehead. “But you need to talk to Callum.”

“I will.” And that was going to be fun. Not.

Callum paced the floor of the room they had given him. Coming to a halt, he smashed his fist into the wall. He wanted to get out there, find Cass, discover why she had run from him.

Jarrod told him to be patient; he’d find her, talk with her. But Callum had had a long time to be patient, stuck in a limbo between life and death. And he didn’t want to be patient anymore.

He wanted Cass. He wanted her to hold him, tell him she loved him, and the last thousand years had been worth the pain because they were back together as they should be. He wanted to sink himself into her body, forget everything except the two of them. Instead, she had taken one look at him and bolted.

She’d changed. Though she was still beautiful, there was a hardness to her features, a guardedness in her eyes. She’d been dressed as a man, in tight black pants and a black shirt, her beautiful hair cropped short—as though she would deny she was a woman. And she’d cut out the mark—all that remained was a scar on her cheek.

Why had she run from him? He crossed the floor with its soft covering, drew back the curtain, and stared out at the buildings all around. More buildings than he had ever seen in his life. On the way here, Shayla had explained that this was another world. A world called Earth.

But he didn’t want to be on another world. He wanted to be back on Arroway where he could finish what he’d started and slice off Malachai’s evil head. He’d been so close.

They’d brought him to this place in a metal box with wheels and no visible means of propulsion. Freya, Shayla’s mother, had pointed out things on the way, keeping up a constant chatter while Shayla clutched her hand and asked a continuous stream of pointless questions.

Was Cass sorry he had returned? Had she made a life for herself on this new world? Was she happy without him? Jarrod had driven the vehicle, he’d apologized in advance, claiming Cass was teaching him, but he had only tried a couple of times. First they’d come through open countryside, then into the biggest town Callum had ever seen. Thousands and thousands of people, countless of these vehicles hurtling down the labyrinth of paved streets. Finally, he’d dropped them off outside this huge building that reached up to the sky and said he would go find Cass. Callum had wanted to go along, but Jarrod said it might be better to talk to his sister alone first.

Why? Was his return such a bad thing? His stomach rumbled. He hardly recognized the sensation as hunger. In the half world he had inhabited there had been no hunger, no thirst. He’d forced himself to eat and drink in order to maintain the illusion he still lived, but he had gained no pleasure or satisfaction from the experience.

Maybe Casterix could sense he was dead, nothing but a walking corpse, and she wanted nothing to do with him. But she had brought him back.

A tap sounded behind him, and he whirled around. The door pushed open from the outside, and he held himself still, sensing Cass’s presence before she appeared.

Her hair curled damply, brushed back from her face. She’d changed her clothes but still wore tight pants—blue this time— and a pale blue shirt made of stretchy material that clung to her small breasts. He feasted his eyes on the long, lean lines of her body. His own body responded, tightening as heat pooled low down in his belly. It had been so long.

She carried a bundle, which she tossed on the bed. “Some Earth clothes for you—so you’ll fit in. You’re a little conspicuous in your current outfit.” He didn’t want to stay long enough to fit in. He wanted to take Cass and go home, destroy the stinking Order, and restore Arroway to what it had once been.

Her expression told him nothing, her face blank, but when he took a step closer, a distinct wariness entered her eyes. She feared him? He would never hurt her.

Her hand came up almost as though she couldn’t help himself. He held himself still as her fingertip stroked down the skin of his cheek. A jolt shot through him at her touch and fire burned in his blood.

“I needed to talk to you,” she said.

“So talk.”
But do it quickly and then
t
ouch me some more.
He moved slowly as though she were some wild creature.

That’s how he’d thought of her from the moment they first met.

He’d loved her for it and never sought to tame her. It was enough that she wanted to be with him.

He’d come to believe he’d never be chosen; he’d spent so long alone. Most witches chose a mate of similar power, and until Cass came along, none of the witches had come close to him in potential. He’d been more powerful than any other warlock, save maybe her brother. Back then, Malachai was nowhere near as powerful though he had made up for it with raw ambition. Callum had been two hundred years old, Casterix a young witch of only twenty-four, still growing into her powers. She’d been so full of life, the air around her had thrummed with the moon magic.

He could still feel the magic inside her, but muted. When she didn’t move away, he reached up slowly and cupped her chin. He lowered his face to hers, every cell in his body yearning to taste her.His lips touched hers and still she didn’t move, didn’t speak.

She stood like a statue in front of him, but at least she wasn’t running. His hands tilted her face up to him so he could deepen the kiss. He nipped at her lower lip and pushed his tongue into the warm cavern of her mouth. The taste of her nearly drove him wild and he had to force himself to take things slowly. She slid her hands into his hair, pulling him closer. Her tongue slid along his as she opened for him, her body shifting to rest against his.

His cock had been hard from the moment she touched him.

Now he pulsated with need, pressing against her stomach, groaning into her mouth. Her hands moved sliding down over his shoulders to rest flat over his heart, which was beating hard enough to escape his body.

It took him a moment to realize she was pushing at him. His whole body screamed in denial as she tore her mouth from his and backed away. He didn’t try to hold her, he would never force her, and part of the magic had always been that she wanted him as much or more than he’d wanted her.

Obviously, no longer. Her face was once again blank.

“Why?” he asked.

“I needed to check I could control it.”

“It?” He could hear the outrage in his voice.

“Whatever is between us.”

“You
know
what’s between us. You chose me.” She shrugged. “That was a thousand years ago.

Did she mean she no longer loved him? Pain splintered in his heart. “And can you control it?”

“Yes.”

“You used to say control was for boring people... and warlocks.”

“I’ve learned a lot since then. I was young, stupid, thoughtless...” She turned away as though to hide her thoughts. “I felt you die. I won’t endure that again.”

“Well that’s no problem—I can’t die, I’m already dead.” She ran her hands through her short hair so it stood on end.

“When you died, I thought I would go mad with grief. I did terrible things. I nearly destroyed Arroway and still might if we don’t succeed in freeing the Goddess.” He didn’t want her to continue. He knew she was explaining why she wouldn’t be his.

She whirled around to face him and her eyes were full of passion. “Damnit, Callum, I can’t love you.”

“Is there someone else?”

“There’s no one. There has never been anyone but you.” She gnawed on her lower lip, her teeth white against the red. “There never will be, but we can’t be together. It’s too dangerous. I won’t allow myself to feel that way again. If I gave in, loved you, and lost you...” She trailed off. “I won’t turn back into the woman I once was. I won’t allow myself. “ Bitterness rose up like bile in his throat. He had spent the last thousand years searching for a way back to her; she had spent the time trying to forget him. And succeeding it seemed.

He had lived with despair for long centuries. Despair had become normal to him; then Shayla had come into his world. She’d told him Cass still lived, and he’d learned to hope again. Hope was a fragile and dangerous thing. It lifted you up, and then crashed you to the ground bleeding and broken.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

He hunted for some sign that she was genuinely sorry, but her voice, like her expression, remained blank. For the first time, he tried to see how it must have been for her. What she had done.

How would he have acted if they had killed her? He’d have gone after those responsible, but he wouldn’t have harmed the innocent. Maybe couldn’t have.

The Laws of Segregation had come about because of what she had done. He’d glimpsed brief flashes of Arroway through his mirror and seen the barren nightmare his once beautiful world had become. Shayla had told him more—how the witches had been persecuted, how the few remaining were castrated at birth, their magic ripped from them, and kept as slaves to the Order.

Cass had lived all this time believing she bore the blame.

“How did you survive?” he asked.

“I shut it all away. You, Malachai, Arroway. I built a wall around it, and I locked it up in a small corner of my mind. I did what I could to help the few who escaped, and I went on, but all the time, I knew I should have died with you.”

“No.” She ignored his interruption. “I’ve come to realize what a responsibility I was given. I was careless, but I didn’t pay the price— so many others paid because of me. Now, I have the chance to make up for what I did. I won’t jeopardize that.”

“And being with me would do that?”

“I won’t take the risk.” Maybe not now, but give him time and he’d persuade her. “So why are you here?”

“We needed to talk...” She shrugged, the movement almost helpless. “And I thought perhaps we could be friends.”

Never.

“Perhaps we can. Wouldn’t that be nice?” She didn’t seem to appreciate his sarcasm.

“Good. There’s a meeting downstairs in a few minutes. Get changed and join us.” He reckoned she’d gotten way too used to people doing what she told them. For now, he’d let her keep the illusion he was compliant. “I’ll be there.” He wouldn’t give up. She built a wall around her feelings.

Now, all he had to do was smash it down.

Cass leaned against the window ledge, her arms folded across her chest, and surveyed the small group. She’d spent too much time with men from this world; she’d forgotten the intense power of a warlock.

And here were three of the most formidable to ever come out of Arroway—Tallon, Jarrod, and Callum—so much controlled energy.All tall, but that was the only similarity. Tallon was paleskinned with black hair hanging in an untamed tangle to his shoulders. His eyes were the purple of the evening skies above Arroway. His long, lean body radiated an almost palpable tension like some big jungle cat always ready to pounce. He’d been the Enforcer for the Order, responsible for hunting down their enemies. The long black coat he wore did nothing to conceal the knife strapped to his thigh. She’d have to have a word with him about wearing weapons on Earth.

Jarrod was the most civilized in appearance, his figure relaxed and at ease. He’d always been laid-back, a total contrast to Cass when they were growing up. His dark red hair was cut close to his head and his green eyes held a mocking glint. He appeared...

happy. He wore his Earth clothes with a casual elegance.

Then there was Callum.

She’d been avoiding observing Callum too closely, now she turned her head a little so she could study him. It was a little like being punched in the solar plexus. Again. He’d always had that effect on her; he was the most beautiful man she had ever known.

He wore his fair hair pulled back in a ponytail, revealing his face with his high cheekbones and full, passionate mouth. He’d dressed in the clothes she had given him: black jeans and a black T-shirt stretched taut over his broad shoulders and revealed the muscles of his arms. He held a rowan staff loosely in his right hand, twirling the wood between his finger and thumb. His gray eyes were somber as he caught her gaze, and an ache welled up in her heart. She glanced away; she couldn’t allow herself to weaken.

Instead, she turned her attention to the witches.

Freya, Shayla, and herself. So much raw magic.

Shayla sat close to Tallon, their thighs touching. Freya stood behind Jarrod her hand resting on his shoulder. Only Callum sat alone. His face was expressionless, but for all his calm acceptance of her words earlier, she knew he was hurting. How could she not? Once they had performed the choosing ceremony, she had always sensed his feelings. Now, however much she closed herself off, his pain filtered through.

But soon he would be gone. Back to Arroway. They would all be gone, except for Cass. She would remain here in her exile on Earth, as she had done for so long. There was no place for her on Arroway. The land would not forgive her betrayal.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed herself up and paced the length of the room a couple of times, trying to ease the restlessness gnawing at her insides. She wanted this over with.

“So,” she said, turning back to face them, “let’s find out what we know. Who’s going first?” Shayla rose to her feet. “This is what we’ve pieced together from the information we have. After you...” She trailed off.

Well, this was a good start. Cass hoped to hell they weren’t going to pussyfoot around her like she was easily offended or something. Was she so intimidating? “After I what?” Cass prompted.

“Just say it.” Shayla shrugged. “After you did your spell all those years ago and nearly destroyed Arroway, the Goddess intervened. She managed to stop the destruction, but she must have been weakened.

Malachai placed her in the chamber in the tower at the Keep.”

“Did he plan all this then?” Callum asked. “Was it his intention from the start to imprison the Goddess?”

“We don’t think so. He couldn’t have known what Casterix would do. We think he meant to keep the Goddess safe until she recovered her strength, but as time went on and he implemented the Laws of Segregation things got a little complicated for him.”