[Southern Arcana 3.0] Deadlock by Moira Rogers

high on magic and probably crazy.
    Instinct told her he would have chased her anyway.
    She was too exhausted to begin the complicated dance that came next, the give and take of wary attraction, so she shook herself and answered his question. “I don’t know. Nothing fits, but I’m so tired.” The thick sound of tears in her voice embarrassed her.
    “I know.” His tone was quiet. Gentle. “I don’t know what happened to you, but we’re going to find out. Make it better.”
    This time, the reassurance didn’t make her want to laugh. “I remember you. Kat’s boss. Franklin’s friend from the army.”
    He nodded. “Alec. Or Jake, if Franklin’s been telling stories.”
    “Alec Jacobson.” With the nervous magic quieted, her mind cleared a little. “Where are we?”
    “My house.” The corner of his mouth kicked up. “Actually, my lake. A little swampy, but not so bad.”
    “It’s lovely.” Carmen took a step and groaned when her legs almost gave out. She had no idea how long she’d run, but the house had to be over a mile back. “I’m an idiot.”
    “Nah. Seems like you got a pretty big dose of magic.” He took a careful step forward, his gaze locked on her face. “Feeling okay?”
    Pride almost made her lie. “No.”
    “Tired?”
    “I think I need to rest before we go back.”
    Alec nodded toward a patch of grass a few yards away. “Wanna sit? Fresh air can’t hurt.”
    She didn’t sit so much as crumple to the ground, and only sheer willpower stopped her from stretching out on the grass. “My father. I talked to my father, and then the van came—”
    “Shh.” He sank down a few feet away. “It’ll keep. Tell me how you feel.”
    “Confused. Wary.” She sighed. “Confused.”
    “Wish I could say that’ll go away. Just try to remember I’m not going to hurt you.”
    “I remember.” What he had to know already was that it didn’t matter if she recognized intellectually that he wasn’t a threat. What mattered were the tense, heart-stopping moments where primal instinct took over.
    “Good.” He leaned forward and braced both elbows on his knees. “Don’t worry if you get angry and try to rip my head off, either. I won’t take it personal.”
    “Ha. Franklin tells stories, Jake .” She gave up and lay back, closing her eyes against the afternoon sun. “I’d never get my hands on you.”
    His low chuckle vibrated deliciously over her nerve endings, and she relaxed a bit. “I dunno, I’m slowing down a bit. A new wolf landed a few punches on me yesterday.”
    “You don’t say.”
    “Mmm. Then, this morning, he kicked my door in. Still working on his temper.”
    Carmen considered laughing, but all she managed was a soft smile. “Lucky for you, I don’t have a temper.”
    “We’ll find out. I have it on good authority I can piss off just about anyone.”
    I think you probably could. After her exertions, just lying there felt like floating, and she fell asleep.

    Alec paced by the closed guest room door for the third time in under twenty minutes and wondered—also for the third time—if opening the door to check on her would make him a creep.
    Only a little creepier than prowling in front of her door. That the thought came to him in Kat’s voice had to be a sign that his mind was slipping. Or his sense of humor was returning. He could only imagine the look Kat would give him if he admitted instinct demanded he shove open the door and count every damn breath Carmen took.
    Not that he couldn’t hear her from the hallway. Adrenaline had brought every sense on high alert. If he stood outside the door, he could number the beats of her heart, slow and steady in a sleep so deep it might have been unconsciousness.
    She’d slept through the arrival of a Conclave team, and he’d fought himself to allow them inside at all. Only the knowledge that they were going to leave—and take Kat’s attacker with them—let him grit his teeth through the invasion. Once they were gone,