Cipher

Kat met his gaze. Held it. “They call it imprinting. Not like baby ducklings or anything, though. They’re not going for filial loyalty. Not usually. Because people are perverts and most empaths aren’t really useful as weapons. But if you strip an empath’s shields and flood them with pleasure, after enough time they’ll associate whatever the hell you’re doing to them with pleasure. Custom-built sex slaves.”

Andrew dropped to a chair. “People don’t really do that shit, do they?” Even as he asked, he knew it was a stupid question. If there was a way to do what she described, of course people would exploit it.

A weak smile curled her lips, and it looked forced. “Supernatural world kinda blows, doesn’t it? So much power, and people misuse it to find creative and more disgusting ways to get laid.”

“Yeah.” And that didn’t explain why she was telling him any of it. “You’re not trying to say this has something to do with me, are you?”

The smile faded. “That’s the scary, bad side of imprinting. The malicious side. But it can happen naturally too. We can grow around someone who’s important to us. Become what they need…and need what they want.”

“Oh.” He leaned back instinctively. “You think that might happen with me.”

Pain tightened her eyes, and she looked away. “No, I’ve got solid training now. Good shields.

Someone would have to break me first. But I didn’t have those shields when I met you, and I was young.

Infatuated. In love.”

How could hearing that still hurt so much? He was so busy quelling that pain he almost missed the import of her words. “When you met me.”

“I don’t usually have crazy porn-worthy orgasms from making out.” Her voice twisted, turned dry.

Morbidly amused. “And trust me, it wasn’t because Miguel sucked in bed. But it didn’t matter how well he brought it, he was never…”

You. Andrew rose and took a step back. “When? When did this happen?”

Kat slashed a look at him, eyes narrowed and mouth tight. “I don’t know if it happened at all. There’s no test. It’s not a switch or a spell. We all change because of the people in our lives. I just…change on a more fundamental level.”

“It’s got to be reversible.”

“Yeah, maybe with a time machine,” she snapped.

He’d hurt her feelings, and he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Don’t get snotty, Kat. I’m not worried about myself here. This isn’t fair to you.”

She crossed her arms over her chest in a blatantly defensive gesture. “Yeah, I was scared before you started backing away like you’re afraid I’m about to rape you. How much scarier do you think this is for me when you act that disgusted?”

The fear he’d been holding inside exploded in an unstoppable rush. “I’m not disgusted, I’m fucking freaked out. Can you give me a goddamn minute to process this?”

Kat rose stiffly. “You had a right to know, so I told you. But I don’t know if that’s what this is, or if I’m bent in some other way. Maybe I have a kink for shapeshifters who blew me off.”

She couldn’t have meant to marginalize what they’d shared, but he closed his eyes and turned away anyway. “Thanks a lot.”

Her breath hissed out. “I’m sorry. My shields aren’t—I didn’t mean—” Moments passed in silence.

Then, “Sometimes pride is all I have left.”

“After what?” he asked. “Did I take that much from you? Did I hurt you that much?”

“I loved you. I killed for you. And I was never what you needed.”

It stopped him cold, and he turned to face her again. “If that’s what you think happened between us, then you don’t get it at all, Kat.”

“Maybe not.” She looked tired. Older than her years, her blue eyes numb. “But you needed time. Space.

Alec to help you adjust, and Derek to be your friend. Anna, even if it was only for a while. You never needed me. Not once.”

He’d needed so many things from her, but one most of all—her safety. It had just turned out to be the one thing he couldn’t personally ensure, the one reason he’d had to push her away. “You’re so sure of that, and there’s nothing I can say, is there? Not a single damn thing.”

“You don’t say you need someone. You just do, or you don’t.” She rubbed at her face and dropped back to the couch so fast the springs creaked. “We can drown in words, and it’s never going to help.

We’re both wrong, and we’re both right. That’s life. A big fucking mess.”

“You’re right about one thing.” The admission came grudgingly, but he forced it out. “Talking isn’t going to get us anywhere, not now. Not like this. So we may as well order room service and rest up for tomorrow.”

“Okay.” She looked down. Her fingers closed on the hem of her baby-blue tank top, folding and unfolding it over and over. “I should have told you before. I would have, if I’d thought it was a possibility. And it might not be it, but if it is…” She swallowed. Cleared her throat. “I’m not your responsibility.”

He tried to stay silent, but it didn’t work. “Bullshit.”

Kat didn’t look up. “I don’t want to be your responsibility.”

It didn’t change the facts, not for either of them. “I get it.”

“Do you?” Her hands stilled. “I don’t want to be your responsibility.”

“Yeah.” He understood better than she knew. “You don’t want that to be why. I get it.”

“Okay.” She rose without looking at him. “Would you order me a cheeseburger? I need to check my mail and see if Ben’s found anything else.”

A big fucking mess. “Yeah, okay. Cheeseburger.”

Her eyes met his for just a moment. There was longing there, and pain, a weary resignation he could almost feel as she turned toward the bedroom.

Andrew snatched up the room-service menu and cursed viciously. A big fucking mess, just like she’d said, and nothing but time would help.

If anything does.

Chapter Six

The safety deposit box looked mundane—until you touched it. It zinged with energy, and the lock refused to yield, even with the key.

Andrew sighed. “If it weren’t practically vibrating with magic, I’d say maybe we had the wrong key.”

Frustrated, Kat twisted the key again. “Do you think it’s a spell? A charm?”

“It has to be. The question is, what’s the trigger?”

Whatever it was, the knowledge had died with the woman who’d given them the key. “Words, maybe?

Or…well, it couldn’t be anything I wouldn’t have access to, unless my mom expected me to find a spell caster.” Abandoning the key, she ran her fingers along the metal edges of the box’s lid, tracing every irregularity until she found a small indentation.

She tried to wedge one finger under the edge, but a quick tug proved that the metal was unyielding-and unforgiving. Pain zipped up her hand as her fingertip slipped over a sharp spot.

Magic crackled through the small room and then vanished.

The lock clicked, and Andrew reached over and lifted the lid. One edge bore coppery traces of her blood. “I guess that answers it. Are you okay?”

Kat winced as she checked her hand. “Yeah. Just looks like the world’s ugliest paper cut.”

He poked at the contents of the box—a lone manila envelope. “Want me to open it?”

She almost said yes, but felt like a coward. “No, let me see.”