He nuzzled my neck. “Quick enough for you?”
I laughed.
He chuckled, shifting to the side, tucking me against him with his arm stretched under my head. Then he slipped his dexterous fingers between my legs without warning. I cried out quietly — the first touch too intense. He eased off. But then a heavy heat bloomed underneath his ministrations, streaking up my abdomen. A second orgasm hit me fast and hard, much more of a physical release than the empathically shared pleasure I’d felt when Aiden came.
My magic exploded from me, reverberating around the room. Aiden muttered quietly under his breath again, and I realized he was actually articulating a spell of some sort as he teased the last few shudders of pleasure from me.
“Did I hurt you?” I asked, panting. “Was that … too rough? Magically?”
Aiden nipped at my lips. “No, Emma. Simply … invigorating.”
I gazed up at him, trailing my fingers up his arm as the magic I’d released settled down all around us, sinking into our skin. We hovered in that moment, just gazing at each other. Lovesick — his contentment and residual desire filtering in through my empathy. Both of us, lingering.
Finally, he sighed. “Shower?”
I nodded.
He pulled away, but then maintained contact as he drew me into the bathroom. He set the heat on the shower so high it practically seared my skin. Which was exactly how I liked it. I had no idea how he knew that, but felt no need to question him.
He soaped every centimeter of my skin, then made me orgasm a third time while pressing me against the tiled wall.
“I’ve never played in the snow before,” I murmured against the warm skin of his shoulder, still savoring the aftershocks.
“Neither have I,” he said.
I turned my head so I could meet his gaze. Aiden reached over, angling the showerhead so the warm water flowed over our shoulders and torsos.
I traced the runes on his upper chest. They were shimmering with magic again. Aiden’s magic, amplified by me.
“Opal wants to stay.”
“Yes.”
“And if I say no, I teach her, once again, that she doesn’t get to choose her present or her future. She doesn’t get to have a voice. Like you said in the kitchen. She just gets shunted around by the will of others.”
Aiden hummed thoughtfully, kissing me so lightly that I felt his magic more than the touch of his lips. “Like you didn’t get a choice?”
“Maybe,” I whispered. “But … I know this is about me, about what I want as well, but … I …”
“You don’t have to justify your attachment to Opal to me, Emma. I see it. I feel it. She is remarkable.”
I sucked lightly at the water that had pooled along his collarbone, then looked up to steadily meet his gaze. “I’m going to fight for Opal.”
He smiled. “Okay.”
“She needs to go to the Academy.”
“Yes.”
“But … maybe she could come here on breaks?”
“I think it’s a good idea. For all of us.”
I nodded. “I should probably mention it to Christopher.”
“I imagine he already knows, being clairvoyant and all.” Aiden pressed his forehead against the tile, groaning playfully. “I was hoping to get wards in place before we made love, to help buffer him.”
I snorted. “He’d let us know if it was a problem.”
Aiden smiled. “Exactly. Same with seeking guardianship of Opal. And Paisley is fully on board. That’s obvious.”
“The witches are never going to agree.”
He hummed thoughtfully, reaching over and turning off the water. It had begun to cool. Stepping out of the shower, he retrieved a towel, offering it to me. I took it as he snagged the second towel. “You have more leverage in your pinky finger right now than most Adepts manage to collect in an entire lifetime.”
“I can’t drain the entire Convocation, Aiden,” I said crossly as I dried myself.
He barked out a laugh, drying his hair so that it stuck up at weird angles. Unable to stop myself, I stepped out of the shower to run my fingers through it.
He smoothed his own fingers down my wet back, murmuring against my lips, “I love you, Emma.”
I stopped breathing, ensnared in his gaze. His words somehow slipped through me, forming a cushion around my heart. I found my voice. “I love you, Aiden.”
He grinned, sucked lightly on my bottom lip, then started toweling off my back, picking up the conversation as if saying we loved each other was perfectly normal.
And … maybe it was?
Maybe sharing your life with someone was made of these moments, interspersed with the … the continual onslaught that was living.
“No coven is going to turn down the chance to create an alliance with an amplifier of your power,” Aiden said. “Let alone a clairvoyant. You will make a formal request. Ember will negotiate on your behalf. The Convocation will dictate the terms, using Opal as leverage —”
“Sounds delightful.”
He shrugged. “You’ll decide what demands you can live with. Opal doesn’t ever have to know the exact details if you don’t want her to.”
“And you? If I do this, and if you’re staying —”
“I’m staying.”
“You didn’t want to have kids.” Aiden had been exceedingly clear on that point, just a few days ago.
“Ah, yes. Well … Opal isn’t a child.” He grinned at me. “And a man can change his opinions … his wants and needs … for the right person.”
I wrapped my towel around his neck, using it to pull him forward into a lingering kiss. “What if they ask if we’re getting married?”
“I’ve already got the ring picked out.” He snagged my left hand, pulling it to his mouth and biting lightly, teasingly on the tip of my ring finger. “End of October,” he mused. “Your birthstone is opal. Rather appropriately. The larger the gemstone, the more magic it will hold. What color do you prefer? They come in a variety.”
I narrowed my eyes at him.
He chuckled. “I’d marry you in a second if that’s what you wanted, but the witches won’t care. Men are …” He waved his hand. “Useful. But sorcerers less so. I’m more of a detriment in their eyes than a bonus.”
“The magic constantly simmering in Christopher’s eyes tells me we have a few other things to address first.”
He nodded, sobering. “And my father. I’m going to have to open that letter.”
I sighed as I nodded in return. I understood explicitly that the letter from Aiden’s father would, without a doubt, trigger a series of events likely to end in bloodshed. I really did need new blades, and soon.
“Let’s deal with my family first,” I said. “And get the witches on their way.”
Aiden chuckled. “That does appear to be more pressing.” He leaned down, kissing me.
I pressed my tongue lightly to his.
“About that marriage proposal,” he murmured against my lips. “You’ll let me do it properly, won’t you?”
“Like, on your knees? With a ring and poetic declarations?” I asked.
“Something like that.”
“What if I decide to propose to you?”
“I don’t know …” he drawled teasingly. “You just let me be on top, and that changed the rules of engagement.”
I laughed. “What rules, sorcerer?”
“Exactly.”
Chapter 3
Aiden settled, cross-legged and clad only in boxers, in his pentagram in the open section of the loft over the barn. The day after Isa disappeared, the sorcerer had commandeered a circular saw and sliced grooves into the slat wood flooring. Then, with a chisel and a propane torch to refine the connections, he’d inlaid long sections of copper piping left over from the kitchen renovation into the grooves. Permanently fixing the pentagram in place. Copper would hold magic even between castings in a way that permanent marker or black paint wouldn’t.
The sorcerer had har
nessed the boost I’d given him and would channel it into another round of healing while I headed back to the house. He would imbue any residual into his copper rings and the new baseball bat he’d started carving in between bouts of working on the property wards. He’d been pleased with how the first bat he carved had performed against a demon horde, and had grabbed a new bat on his way through town the day after he’d lost that first bat to his brother.
I exited the barn, noting that Jenni’s RCMP SUV was gone and that Ember’s rental car was still parked by the front entrance of the house. I headed around back, feeling Christopher and the witches in the kitchen. Paisley and Opal were upstairs, possibly in the attic. Either that or their magic was slightly dimmer than it was usually.
Determined to move forward with Ember and all the paperwork efficiently and rationally, I shed my boots and coat in the laundry room, stepping into the kitchen. I met Christopher’s gaze across the kitchen island.
Ember was sorting papers at the table, presumably having come to need more space than the coffee table provided. Capri was hovering near her.
Christopher’s arms were folded, his expression grim as he leaned back against the counter next to the sink. Magic simmered lightly in his eyes.
I crossed to the clairvoyant, putting my back to the witches to murmur, “Are you with me?” I was asking about Opal, knowing he would understand without me needing to elaborate.
“Always.” He met my gaze steadily, wrapping his fingers around my wrist. His emotions, picked up by my empathy, were tangled and complex. He was angry and sad. But his magic didn’t spike.
“Is something about to happen?”
He grimaced. “It’s going to hurt you. Just not physically.”
I turned to the witches then, already knowing what was coming by the way Capri was watching me. Unmistakable distrust was in her gaze. Ignoring her, I stepped over to the kitchen table.
Ember looked up with a tight smile. “Well, your extensive estate planning makes much more sense now.”
The lawyer had expressed confusion when I’d first approached her a couple of years ago, needing Christopher as set up as possible in the event of my death. Apparently, I was young for those sorts of precautions.
“Samantha is volatile,” I said, keeping my tone steady, though my insides were churning with a nervous anticipation that Christopher’s grimness hadn’t eased. “But she would never hurt us.”
“That’s not what it looked like,” Capri snapped.
I lifted my gaze, locking it to the blond witch.
She blanched, stepping behind Ember. Possibly involuntarily.
I couldn’t help but sneer. That told me everything I needed to know about Opal’s foster mother. Specifically, that she was incapable of protecting the young witch.
I sat across from Ember, carefully placing my hands on the table between stacks of paper. “I’d like to discuss becoming Opal’s guardian.”
“Ridiculous!” Capri snapped, gripping the back of Ember’s chair.
“Capri, please,” Ember said, keeping her gaze steady on me. “That’s going to be complicated, Emma. It’s going to put a lot of attention on you.” She glanced over at Christopher. “All of you.”
“We can take care of ourselves,” Christopher said mildly. “And Opal. We’re better suited to it, especially given her background.”
Capri opened her mouth to protest.
Ember raised her hand preemptively, though her back was to her cousin.
“She needs to go to the Academy,” I said, speaking through the lump of emotion threatening to clog my throat. “She needs to be trained by witches. We understand that. We’d encourage it. But she’s asked to stay.”
Ember nodded. Her lips were thin, her expression hooded.
“Will you start the paperwork? Explain the steps we’d need to take?”
“Of course —”
“What’s the point?” Capri snarled. “More billable hours? It will never get through the Convocation. I’ll make sure of it.”
Opal charged into the room from the hall. Paisley was on her heels. I hadn’t even felt a hint of their magic approaching.
“Don’t I get any say?” the young witch cried.
“No! You’re a child,” Capri said. “You should be allowed to have a childhood. And these people …” She waved her hand to encompass Christopher and me. “These people … are … not …” She checked herself before completing the thought. But then her gaze fell on Paisley, and she jabbed a finger toward the demon dog. “And that … that beast is not a dog!”
Opal clenched her hands into fists, then turned to look at me. Her eyes glistened with angry tears. “I’ll run away.”
Striving to maintain a certain level of calm, though Capri was now triggering me in multiple ways, I said, “You won’t.”
“I will!”
“You won’t,” I repeated. “Because that wouldn’t help the argument.”
“It would prove that I’m capable of making a choice for myself.” Opal’s lower lip trembled.
Christopher bowed his head. His magic coiled tightly around him, glinting from the edges of his eyes. He was seeing something in our immediate future, struggling between then and now.
“It would prove,” Capri said, “that these people are a bad influence. A dangerous influence.”
“Actually,” Ember interjected, “it would simply reinforce a pattern of behavior.”
“Ember!” Capri gasped, dismayed. “It’s completely inappropriate to involve the child in this discussion. We shouldn’t have even stepped foot in this house —”
“Then leave,” I said, unable to contain myself any further. “I’ve never been treated with such disrespect. And, given my background, that is truly saying something about you, Capri.”
“I’m here for Opal,” the witch said stiffly. “I will not be intimidated by the likes of you.”
“Oh, yes?” My tone became edged. “Is that why you’re cowering behind your cousin?”
Capri lifted her chin. “And you think yourself capable of raising a child.”
Christopher stepped forward, brushing his arm against my shoulder. “She thinks so because magic has brought us together. Twice now.”
Capri winced, as if reacting to the power laced through the clairvoyant’s voice and blazing now from his eyes.
Christopher softened his tone, presumably remembering he was supposed to be the diplomat. Compared to me, at least. “A witch should be able to understand how powerful a connection that is.”
Capri didn’t respond.
I looked at Ember, trying to remain rational instead of pleading. “There must be some way to legalize that connection?”
She nodded, grimly. “I’ll try.”
“I will fight you every inch of the way,” Capri said. “The Convocation will never choose a lone amplifier over a Pine witch.”
“I hate you,” Opal snarled.
Paisley growled, agreeing.
Capri eyed the young witch, then nodded. “That may be true. But it won’t stop me from taking care of you. Go. Pack whatever you have to bring with you. We’re leaving. You’ve already missed too many days at the Academy. You don’t want to fall behind.”
Opal looked at me, her lower lip trembling. “Emma?”
“You should pack. Take Paisley with you. Please.”
“No.” She sobbed once, checking herself. “Christopher?”
He nodded. “I’ll come get you a second suitcase. If you need it.”
Her chin now trembling with sorrow and anger, the young witch spun on her heel and raced back along the hall. Paisley grumbled, but then followed her.
“I can’t feel her magic,” I whispered to Christopher.
“Rune,” he murmured back.
Despite the emotion crushing my chest, I almost laughed. Aiden had taught the young witch a rune to mask her magic so she could sneak around. She had likely asked, and he’d obliged, unable to say no to her. I wasn’t even remotely surprised.
>
The sounds of Opal’s steps on the stairs faded.
I pinned my gaze to Capri. “Your opinion means nothing to me. And compared to people … like us …” I shook my head as I mockingly coopted her slur. “Your power doesn’t even rank. Write whatever letters you want. Your record will speak for itself. How many times did Opal run away from your home? How many times was she kidnapped while under your protection?”
Christopher laughed quietly. “You don’t want to get into it with Emma, witch.”
“Or what?” Capri’s knuckles were white from gripping the back of the chair. “You’ll do to me whatever you did to that poor woman? Torture me?”
I laughed. It was a nasty, harsh sound.
Ember sighed, rubbing her face. “If you could just step into the front room, Capri. I’d like to talk to my clients.”
Capri stepped away stiffly. Then she paused, hands fisted at her sides. “You won’t talk me out of it, Ember. They aren’t remotely fit to care for a child. I stepped up. Opal needed a home and I was happy to provide one. Emma had her chance, didn’t she? A chance to care. Why now?”
No one answered her.
Capri waited a moment longer, chin lifted, shoulders stiff. Then she turned away into the hall, crossing toward the front sitting room.
Ember glanced at Christopher. She had produced a small copper ring from her briefcase, with a tea light set in its center. “If you would join us?” she said, shifting the ring to the middle of the table.
He sat down, pulling his chair close enough to brush his knee against mine.
Ember nodded, then snapped her fingers over the candlewick. It sprang into flame. Magic shifted around us — a sound barrier.
“I, Ember Pine, reassert client privilege to Emma and Christopher Johnson. Everything communicated between us is confidential, and I will not repeat any of it without permission.” The lawyer witch looked at me.
“I understand,” I said.
“As do I,” Christopher said.
The candle flared brightly.
“It’s important for me to address something on a personal level before we proceed.”
Mystics and Mental Blocks (Amplifier 3) Page 7