“We will be studying offensive magick soon,” he said, attempting to placate me and to change the subject.
It worked a little bit. I readjusted my turtleneck, which I wore to hide my fading bruises for his sake. We talked for a bit longer before training, but my mind was elsewhere, unable to let go of the man who wore the mask of the Devil. Was that how he wanted me to see him? Or was that how he saw himself?
He wanted me to know his strength after I challenged him, as if he was threatened by the mere suggestion that I was more powerful. If he was strong enough to overpower Daelon, who was supposedly built for shielding, then could he be more powerful than me? That would make Daelon a liar, or at least dishonest by omission. Maybe I wasn’t the only omnipotent witch out there, in which case, I was not omnipotent at all. So, what was I? And who was he?
Despite what I’d told Daelon last night—that nothing he was hiding from me would alter how I felt—I couldn’t shake these creeping doubts. I would be a fool to ignore them. But I also couldn’t ignore the consistency in Daelon’s words and actions, which all pointed to the idea that he was an ally who only wanted to protect me. Nor could I deny that the energy I’d gleaned from him had my best interest at heart even as he evaded my questions.
As I’d found myself doing more often than I felt comfortable with, I chose my heart over my head.
For now.
I sat facing Daelon in the basement, not bothering to hide my disappointment after he refused to train outside where he deemed it to be too cold. On the flip side, the first snow had begun to fall, which guaranteed my good mood. Winter and the holidays were tied very deeply to the most sacred parts of my childhood—times when my mothers and I were at our happiest. We celebrated Yule, or the winter solstice, rather than Christmas, but it was virtually the same besides a few witchy twists thrown in. We decorated a tree, gave gifts, baked sweets, and cooked elaborate meals. We celebrated with our neighbors in their homes and at the local pub, but I also remembered plenty of candle-lighting and spells, ancestral devotion, and a Yule log that burned with wishes for the new year. I just wished I remembered more of the specifics.
My mothers also made sure to tell me about their coven—our family, related through community if not by blood—and how much they all wished they could be with us during these holidays. My mothers cried when they told me, each year, that my people loved me so much that they gave up their chance of ever knowing me. I never quite understood what this meant, but I knew it had something to do with my mothers’ escape from Aradia. If those witches in white were my mothers’ people, all dead… did that mean I was the only one left? The only one who could preserve centuries of tradition?
I frowned. They did say that I would always have friends where I least expected them. Were some of my mothers’ coven still here, somewhere? And could I find them?
“You’re not paying attention.”
“Sorry.” I gave my head a shake. “I’m back.”
“Learning how to defend yourself is the most important thing I can teach you,” he chastised, finishing with a sigh. “I’m going to try to enter your mind again, and I want you to say when you detect me.”
I cleared my ruminating thoughts and brought myself back to this moment. Today we were working on psychic defense, in particular my ability to detect external influence. I centered myself and waited, sending out probes to detect any sense of Daelon in the outskirts of my energy field. In a few moments, I felt the slightest shift, like a spider creeping through the tiniest of holes in the wall.
“I feel you,” I said.
“Now block me.”
He was searching for something. Instead of blocking him immediately, I followed him around the edge of my mind. His energy was unreadable by nature of his shielding gift, only detectable by its imprint that told me it wasn’t my own. What was he looking for?
I grew distracted again, thinking of my dreams, in particular the dream where Daelon looked at me like I belonged to him, and his muscles flexed as he—
I suddenly realized it was Daelon who brought forward this vision. In a burst of strength, I banished him from my psyche.
“Hey!” Flustered, I swatted at his arm, but he caught my wrist midair.
He grinned devilishly, kissing my hand before releasing me.
“Talk about an invasion of privacy.” I glowered.
“I would never seriously breach your mind in that way. You know that.”
I did. Daelon was all about consent, if nothing else. He still looked all too pleased with his harmless intrusion, though.
As we worked through a couple more exercises, I realized that these lessons were very much tied to yesterday’s attack. I’d always known we were preparing for some kind of battle, but it all felt real now. I needed to be ready for the pretend-devil and whoever else wanted us dead. So, we continued working, only partially distracted by the renewed and undeniable tension between us.
The snow continued to fall, and by the time neither of us could work any longer it had even started to cling to the ground. We faced the basement’s wall of glass panels, and I sat in between Daelon’s legs, looking out at the winter landscape. His arms snaked around my torso, a hand resting on my thigh.
“You fascinate me,” Daelon said. He traced circles on my bare skin, drawing out a shiver of goosebumps.
“In what way?” I tried not to show just how much his touch affected me. How the skin-on-skin contact consumed my every thought.
“For reasons like getting so excited about the snow. It’s… endearing.”
I thought about it for a moment. “I cling to things that make me feel nostalgic and safe—that remind me of the part of my childhood I most cherish.” I shrugged. “The part of my childhood before I learned that everything could change—that your loved ones could be there one minute and gone forever the next.”
The difference between my early memories—memories where everything was magickal and untainted by the rise of my power and my mothers’ growing fear—and my later memories of constant anxiety and confusion was astounding. It was like two completely different childhoods. I clung to the former whenever I could, to remind myself that things could be truly amazing in spite of their inherent transience.
Nothing was permanent. I wished I could live in these moments of warmth and security forever.
“Sometimes I get scared that the memories you and I make now are like those—fleeting and liminal, as if we are caught in a happy limbo before the impending storm.”
“I’m glad you at least think we’re making some good memories,” he murmured, sadness creeping into his tone.
“But they’re bittersweet. Because I know that we can’t stay here forever, and I feel the darkness and struggle that awaits us on the other side.” And the selfish part of me didn’t want to face that other side. I wanted to stay in Daelon’s arms watching the fluffy white flakes fall to the earth.
He held me tighter, and when he kissed the top of my head I stilled, my stomach doing flip-flops.
“I know. I want to make this time count while we can, screw all the rest,” he said, and I could tell he was convincing himself more than me. “Even when our path verges into the storm, I need you to know I’ll still be there. I will always be on your side.”
Before I could respond, a bird flew into a glass panel with a thump, startling me. I watched as it fell, still alive but injured. I pushed up from the ground, slipping from Daelon’s grasp.
He peered up at me in confusion. When I darted toward the side door, he sprang to his feet and followed. “Where are we going?”
I ignored him as I walked outside. I headed around the side of the house, my attire not suitable for the biting wind. I wore a black wrap skirt with the red turtleneck to conceal my bruises. There was no doubt that Daelon would chastise me about my lack of clothing.
As if on cue, he admonished, “You are not wearing enough clothes.”
I waved away his attempt to give me his jacket, but his glare held a cer
tain finality as he wrapped me in the warm fleece. The air smelled crisp, and snowflakes floated down to melt on my cheeks and accessorize my hair.
I scanned the ground until I spotted the stunned bird, which was bright blue, small, and limping. I knelt, ignoring the bite of the snow on my bare legs. I conjured up a soothing, non-threatening energy so as not to frighten him away, reaching out slowly to scoop him into my palms. He climbed into my grasp willingly, staring up at me with his tiny black eyes.
“Hello there,” I murmured, and for the first time since my mothers were alive, I used my powers to heal. Their voices echoed from the time I saved a lamb, telling me that one day I would be able to use my powers fully and unrestrained. That day was today.
I concentrated on the frequency of healing, invoking the power of a mother tending to a sick child, Daelon making gross herb smoothies, and any person who had ever mended another to health. This energy was pure and unencumbered by selfishness or greed, and it seemed to flow through nature like water in a stream. Healing was built into the fiber of every living thing’s DNA.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Daelon drop down to my level, watching me with his fingers steepled at his lips.
It was growing easier and easier to tap into these natural currents without having to completely submerge myself into my metaphoric ocean. I couldn’t deny that Daelon had been crucial in helping me to control and focus all of this power. It was also more effortless out here in the open, where the wind whispered its secrets and the elements had free reign. I gazed at the little blue bird, questioning wordlessly if he was ready to return home. In response he flew from my palms, chirping as he fluttered away.
“You find new ways to surprise me every day,” Daelon said softly. He helped me up from the ground, frowning at my knees, reddened by the snow. “I—I haven’t been around anyone with so much heart in a very, very long time.”
“Then maybe you need new friends,” I said. I remembered how he said he’d been taken in by the wrong crowd after he became an orphan. Were they the past he was so worried about telling me?
“I couldn’t agree more,” he muttered.
I crossed my arms for more warmth. “Let me guess, off limits?”
“Yes.” He stepped closer to me. “Let’s go inside. You’re shivering.”
The air shifted suddenly as I hesitated, ignoring his direction and watching as his features quickly turned stern in response. I smiled.
“So dominant,” I whispered.
He blinked at me, breaking into a sly grin. “Yes. I think we’ve established that.”
He grabbed my chin and kissed me hard, his other arm snaking around me and creeping down the small of my back. I was breathless by the time he pulled away, having completely forgotten about the cold. He clasped his hand in mine and led me inside and upstairs before pushing me up against a wall and kissing me again.
“No more stopping ourselves, right?” he asked, his lips at my ear.
“Correct.”
And those words carried everything else away, leaving nothing but us. Here. Now.
He kissed me again, this time lifting my legs up to wrap around his torso. I held onto his neck as he carried me into his room, which was simple yet lavish like the rest of the house. The walls were a dark wooden paneling, and black and white abstract paintings hung above the black headboard. He dropped me onto the plush, gray comforter and stood in front of me, his eyes dark and… possessive.
Just like my dream.
“Take off your sweater,” he commanded.
And for the first time since I’d been here, I really, really liked him telling me what to do. I yearned for it, even. It was seductive, but also safe and secure, like he had all the answers, and all I had to do was listen.
I took off my sweater and dropped it on the floor, revealing my lacy black bra. Daelon stood in front of me, still fully clothed in his dark tee and jeans. He leaned closer and stroked my cheek, then studied my body as if inspecting a painting at an art gallery.
He guided my head to the side with his hand at my chin, letting out a small sigh.
“I hate seeing these.” His eyes met mine, staring at me deeply, probingly. “I would never hurt you, Áine. Well, maybe if you wanted me to.”
I raised a brow. “Kinky.”
He chuckled as he pulled off his shirt. “Is that what the humans call it?”
I nodded, in a daze. I just wanted him to touch me again. I had never wanted anything more.
In one quick movement he picked me up again and moved me to the center of the bed. He straddled me. After first kissing my mouth, he trailed light kisses down my neck then moved lower to my collarbone, and then my breasts, tugging lightly at my skin with his teeth. I moaned softly, and as I reached to touch his hair, he grabbed my wrists and pinned them above my head. My breath caught in my throat as he kissed just next to my lips, teasing me.
“Don’t move,” he growled. He stared at me until I nodded, biting my lip. The corners of his turned up.
I felt myself falling under his spell, unconvinced there wasn’t real magick at play here. Why else did I hang on his every command? As if he was the one tethering me to this realm—this universe.
He undid the clasp of my skirt, a guttural noise escaping his lips as I arched my back to help him as he tugged it down my legs and threw it to the floor. I didn’t dare move my hands from their place above my head, as if he had physically restrained them there. This made me remember his strange comment about power:
Power is a social contract between you and others. It can be exchanged, given, and taken at your will. What good is your magick if you don’t desire to wield it on me?
And I now understood what he meant. I wouldn’t wield my magick against him for the same reason I wouldn’t move my hands until he told me I could.
He unclasped my bra. “You can move, little witch.”
This was also the first time I thought the pet name was sweet rather than condescending. I helped him get me out of the last of my clothes and watched as he shrugged out of his jeans. His body was captivating, with tight, defined muscles spanning every inch.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said. “Every inch of you.”
“Funny, I was just thinking the same about you.”
He moved back on top of me, trailing his fingers down the length of my body until they reached their ultimate target. He moved his fingers slowly, sending waves of pleasure that were never quite satisfying enough and left me yearning for more.
I was always yearning for more with Daelon.
“Please,” I breathed against his lips.
“Please what?” His other hand stroked the side of my face, and I leaned into his touch.
“I want you.”
“No, Áine,” he said, the domineering tone of his voice was juxtaposed with the smile that played at his lips. “Not yet. We’re making memories, remember?”
I frowned. The point of that conversation wasn’t just about creating amazing moments with my mothers, it was also about the way those memories haunted me after the good times faded into grief and emptiness. We barely knew each other, and I already feared the void that Daelon could leave in my life when this all inevitably crumbled away.
“What is it?” Daelon stopped his teasing, searching my eyes. “Show me.”
I hesitated, but then grasped his forearm and let the feeling pass from me to him. It was so intimate, even more so than being naked underneath him, to let this emotion pass from my mind to his.
His face fell for a moment as he received my psychic message, but he soon shifted back into seductive, in-control, and alluring. “Counterpoint,” he said softly, pressing his hand into my cheek.
A different impression flooded my system, one that was teeming with reddish hues of desire, but also… devotion. This fortress of energy was built for the sole intent of keeping me safe. It was nearly overpowering—teeming with warmth and sincerity—but it was also strikingly thirsty for control. He just couldn’t los
e me, not when he’d already lost so much. He’d never wanted to hold on to anything more, like I was his anchor in a turbulent, murky sea.
Beneath his dominance lay a kind of desperation. He was desperate for me to know how much he wanted to shield me from the cold, the dark, the painful—his devotion to protecting me at all costs—and those costs felt great, almost insurmountable. What he felt for me mirrored what I saw in him, definitive and beyond reason, because we reminded each other of something we had lost and missed dearly, pulled together by a force that transcended conscious understanding.
This energetic kaleidoscope of color, thought, and emotion passed through my mind quickly, and began to ease my doubts.
“Yes,” I said. “That is an excellent counterpoint.” I couldn’t stop my staring, and I could’ve sworn a flash of raw vulnerability passed through my fierce protector’s eyes. I didn’t think he was used to sharing his energy with anyone, not with his fortress of shields. But he knew how much I craved it. He knew how much I wanted to see him—all of him.
He kissed my forehead. “Now, where were we?”
I smiled. Whatever lay between us wasn’t just lust. It ran much deeper, and despite it all, I needed it to. I needed an anchor of my own.
I sighed breathily as Daelon made a trail of kisses down my body once more, murmuring that I was beautiful in different ways every other kiss. I moaned as he reached the end of his path. This time, the waves of pleasure were nearly too much, and I dug my fingers into his hair.
“Hands above your head,” he commanded again from between my legs, a dark smile on his lips. “No moving, and no noise. Or I won’t let you finish,” he challenged, a hard edge to his voice.
I took a deep breath. I had no idea how I was going to stop myself. It took everything in me not to reach for him, not to call out his name as he brought me to the brink over and over again. It was like he already knew my body and everything it craved. Even still, I stayed silent. Because his grip on my mind was somehow even sexier than his grip on my thighs, and I didn’t know how much I’d needed the excuse to let go completely. But he knew. He knew exactly what I needed—and all I had to do was let his steady, commanding voice tether me to this earth, to this bed, to him.
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