Page 40 of Alpha's Magic

He came in and glanced at me sitting there on the bed. He saw that the room had obviously been disturbed, with open drawers and his bag sitting open in the middle of the floor. Finally, his gaze came back to me and to what I held in my hand. His face paled noticeably.

“Anything to say?” I asked him.

He lifted his chin bravely. “Would you believe me if I did?”

“Try me and see.”

He gave a short, harsh laugh and shook his head. “No, I don’t believe I will.”

He turned and walked right back out the door, and I caught him a few steps down the corridor. Taking his arm firmly in my grip, I ignored his angry reaction and hauled him back to my bedroom. He didn’t exactly fight me, but I knew by the stiff lines of his body exactly how furious—and scared—he was. I was beginning to feel the same way.

I took him back inside and he tore his arm free from my grip and rounded on me. “Leave me alone!” he cried, but I stepped up close and took him in my arms. That’s when the real struggle began, though I was simply trying to contain him and not force myself on him. I was determined to hold him until the fight went out of him, or until that frightened expression left his face. I never wanted to see that expression again. I was the last person on earth he should have been afraid of.

He struggled against me for a long time and when he finally stopped, it seemed as if all the fight went out of him all at once. He sagged in my arms like a pricked balloon, and I picked him up and carried him to the nearest chair.

“Leo, we have to at least talk.”

“Is there anything left to say? You obviously wouldn’t believe me no matter what I told you.”

“That’s not accurate and it’s not fair, Leo.”

“You used to believe me—you used to love me—before we came here,” he shouted up at me, his face streaked with tears. “You never said it, but I think you did. I could feel it. I don’t feel it now.”

I couldn’t stand it. I picked him up again and this time I sat down with him in my arms and kissed him.

“Listen to me, Leo. Gods help me, but I do love you. Maybe it’s soon to say it, but we’ve done everything backward, right from the beginning. I hate it that you look at me like you’re afraid of me, when I’d never hurt you. Do you believe that?”

“You might not mean to.”

Sighing, I tried again. “Tell me why you had this book. At least explain that much to me.”

“If I told you it wasn’t mine, would you believe me?” He pulled away and stared up at me searchingly. “No, I can see that you wouldn’t.”

“Is it yours?” I shook him a little when he didn’t answer, determined to get to the truth. “Is this book yours?”

He stared into my eyes and gave a deep sigh. “Yes.”

“Where did you get it? Tell me the truth, damn it. Did Grimora give it to you?”

“No,” he said, looking affronted. “You know Grimora was a good person. He would never have a book like this in his possession. This book has to do with learning to speak to the dead, you know. It’s a bad book. My father said it was.” He looked up at me with those big, beautiful, innocent eyes, and I wondered if he was doing this on purpose. Acting so naive and almost childlike. I decided to play along with him.

“Your father? He told you this was a bad book?”

“Yes. I found it a long time ago—in my father’s library. I was running my hand along the spines of the books, looking for something to read and this one pushed itself out into my hand. Usually, the grimoires my father had didn’t want me to read them. He didn’t even keep his grimoires in the library. They were in his office.”

“What do you mean by that? That these grimoires of your father’s didn’t want you to read them?”

“I know it sounds odd, but it’s true. When I tried to turn their pages, they’d stick together, and they gave off a bad, musty smell. But this one was welcoming, in a way. Its pages turned easily for me, and there were none of the odors. The pages felt a little greasy though, so I went for a cloth to wipe them down, and that’s when my father saw me and asked what I was doing. He took the book away as soon as I showed it to him and told me it was dark magic, and I shouldn’t have anything to do with it.” He looked up at me. “Do you believe me?”

“I…yes, I believe you if you say you’re telling the truth. Did you stop reading it then?”

“Yes, he took it away from me. He taught me how to use my magic. You remember I told you he said I had to have good will for whatever I was using magic on, or it would go wrong.”

“Yes. So what did you do?”

He taught me to use my magic for healing. Or at least he was teaching me…just before he was killed.”

“He taught you to heal people?”

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