The Soulkeepers Read online

  Chapter 6

  Dane

  Dane Michaels wandered through the forest at the back of his family’s farm. He knew better than to call her name. Man, she could be a bitch when she wanted to be. She was beautiful though, way cuter than Amy.

  He wasn’t sure why she always insisted that they meet out here. He was sick of it. It was always on her terms, her rules. Sometimes she even blew him off entirely. She never gave any excuse, just didn’t show up. Today though, he wanted her there. He needed what she had more than before and he hoped she would give it to him quickly.

  Snow drifted down from the pine needles and stung his exposed skin. The wind blew right through his wool coat. He raised the collar around his ears and huddled into the thick fabric. He hated winter.

  “You’ve come alone?” she said. Her voice was smooth and as cold as the bitter air.

  Dane’s head snapped right. She was standing so close to him, close enough to touch, but he hadn’t heard her coming. Her platinum hair blew back from her face in the uneven gusts. Eyes, like blue ice, cut through him. The cold didn’t seem to bother her. In nothing but a blouse and plaid skirt, she leaned up against one of the lanky pines.

  “Yeah,” Dane replied. “So.”

  “I told you, I want to meet your friends.”

  “Damn … I’ve been bringing people back here all year. You’ve met everyone.”

  “Don’t lie to me.” Her face was suddenly inches from his, the line of her mouth a grim warning.

  “You’ve met everyone in my class that’s worth meeting,” he spat.

  “Then, who is not worthy?”

  Dane looked away. This was so not his idea of fun. “Whatever,” he said under his breath. He turned for home. Her hand shot out, so fast he didn’t see it coming. Fingers sank into his forearm, tightening like a vice. The pain was immediate.

  “Oww! God … stop! Let go!” Dane yanked his arm toward his body but her grip was like steel. The pain was intense, bone crushing. “Please!”

  That’s when he smelled her, a spicy, sweet scent that reminded him of fresh-baked pumpkin pie. It surrounded him, weaving into his nostrils and flaming out across his body until every part of him was salivating for it. He met her eyes again and a wave of pleasure washed over him like a warm bath.

  “Who have I not met, Dane?” she cooed. Her voice was soft now, soothing. She loosened her grip.

  “There are two kids that I don’t hang with much. A girl and a boy.”

  “Their names?”

  “Malini and Jacob.”

  “You will bring them to me. I want to meet them.”

  “Why?” he asked, but his voice cracked, weak and unsure.

  “I have my reasons. Bring them here, at this time of day, in one month.”

  Dane rolled his eyes. To get Lau here, he would have to either overpower the kid or pretend to be his friend. Neither would be easy but the thought of the second made him ill. He considered telling her he wouldn’t do it but then the smell came to him again, stronger.

  “Do you have more of that stuff, from before?”

  A thermos appeared in her hand and she held it out to him. Dane wondered for a fleeting moment where she’d gotten it. He hadn’t noticed the container before and she didn’t have a bag or a coat. She cracked the lid and the smell of cinnamon wafted out. All at once he stopped caring about where it came from and snatched it from her hand.

  He took a deep swig. The stuff burned, from his lips to his toes, but then the rush he was waiting for came on full force. Power. Pure liquid power coursed through his veins. In that moment, he was enough. He was bigger than this farm, this family, and this town. There were no boundaries to what he could do or what he could be.

  He reached into his pocket for a cigarette. Maybe he could do anything for this.

  “Tell me more about these two,” she demanded.

  Dane lit the end of the cigarette and took a deep drag. “I think, maybe, I could tell you a couple of things.” He rubbed his arm. For some reason, it felt sore. As he started to talk, he couldn’t remember how he’d hurt it. But he had no problem remembering everything he knew about Jacob and Malini.