They’d all known it was coming. He expected it. Shit, no, he hadn’t expected anything like that.
He knew she would hurt, knew there would be blood. Still, he wasn’t prepared to see the woman he cared for so much in such agonizing pain. In that moment, he would have given anything to take the pain from her. As he stood by and helplessly watched Celia fall to the ground, he realized his feelings for her ran deeper than he knew.
Now he sat here, in his bedroom, in the darkness. Watching the unconscious woman in his bed breathe in and out. Three long, ragged slashes marred the perfect skin on her back. They resembled a Werewolf’s claw marks, but there had been no one else in the glen but them. The blood curse took its pound of flesh and blood and he hated it.
When Celia collapsed, he gathered her in his arms and raced back to headquarters. After placing her, face down, on his bed, he cleaned her wounds. The gashes started at the top of her left shoulder and went down to the top of her right hip. It made him furious. She shouldn’t have had to do this. The woman didn’t need any more scars.
At first, he tried to heal her with his breath. Daemon breath had healing proprieties. It healed most wounds as long as they weren’t life ending. He tried and failed. Never had he felt so weak in all his many years on this earth. He could do nothing for her but watch and wait.
A soft moan reached his ears. In an instant, he sat beside her. His hand reached out to stroke her soft, unbound hair.
“Hey, sweetheart.”
Sleepy green eyes opened. She smiled. “Damien. You’re here.” She shifted against the sheets, glancing down at herself. “And I’m naked. This seems to be a pattern.”
A chuckle escaped him. “Your clothing was covered in blood.” He swallowed against the knot in his chest. “I thought you would rest better out of them.”
She smiled again. “Thank you.”
She started to roll onto her back and hissed out a cry of pain. He gently eased her onto her stomach. Once again comforting her by stroking her hair.
“Easy, sweetheart. The blood curse did its job. You have three very nasty wounds on your back. I tried to heal them, but I—”
“Damien,” she interrupted. “It’s all right. We both knew this was going to happen. It’s magic. Daemon breath can’t heal a wound like this.” She winced, bunching her shoulders. “Bring my bag please.”
He left her side to retrieve the bag sitting by the doorway. Damien had been so frantic to help Celia earlier, he had forgotten all about it. In his haste to get her to safety, he’d forgotten it in the glen. Good thing Alex accompanied them. The Frost Giant had the mindset to grab her bag and bring it back to headquarters.
“What do you need?” he asked, once he reached her side, bag in hand.
“There’s a vial inside. A potion I made to lessen the effects of the blood curse. I took one before I broke the spell, but I’m not sure it did much good.”
As horrible as her wounds were, he suspected her potion did help. If Racine’s account was accurate, the blood curse could have been a lot worse.
“This?” He held up a glass tube with blue liquid inside, so bright it almost glowed in the dark room.
“Yes,” she panted, clearly in pain. “Pour it directly onto my wounds.”
He hesitated. “Will it hurt?”
She managed a small shrug. “It can’t hurt any worse than it does now.”
If he ever discovered the Sorcerer who created this blood curse, he would put him or her in the ground. After he made them bleed, a lot.
Removing the stopper, he tipped the vial over her wounds. The blue, shimmering potion dropped into the deep gashes and started to bubble. Celia sucked in a sharp breath.
“Does it hurt?”
She giggled. “No. It tickles.”
Odd, but better than hurting. If he had his way, Celia would never feel any pain again.
He watched in amazement as the potion bubbled and sparked. Before his eyes, her wounds started to shrink. The skin began to knit itself together. In just a few short minutes, those deep, raw cuts reduced to three long, thin scars. The skin remained red and tender, but the wounds had closed.
“Wow.”
“Did it work?”
“Baby, you are one amazing Witch.”
A smiled tipped her lips as her cheeks tinged a tempting pink. She rolled to her side, then winced and rolled back.
“Well, it’s better. That’s a start. I guess I’ll have to sleep on my stomach tonight.” She frowned and he found the expression adorable. “I hate sleeping on my stomach. I can never fall asleep that way. It’s so uncomfortable.”
He stood and started to unbutton his shirt.
“Damien?”
He didn’t answer, just continued to undress until he was down to his boxers. Then he slipped into bed with her and pulled her onto his chest.
“There. Better?”
She buried her face in his chest. “Much.”
Careful of her back, he wrapped his arms around her and immediately realized his mistake. Celia was naked. He’d removed her clothes himself, but had been too distracted by her wounds to notice or appreciate her nudity. He noticed it now. Silky, soft flesh pressed against every inch of his body. Her firm breasts smashed against his chest, and he felt her nipples begin to harden. One leg draped across his groin, moving slowly back and forth. Yeah, he noticed all right. If the rising tent in his boxers was any indication, he appreciated it, too.
She had just endured major trauma. As much as he wanted it, Damien would not take advantage of her. This was not the time to indulge in carnal desires, even if they were in the right place. His darkened bedroom, alone. Celia didn’t need him jumping her like a randy kid right now. She needed comfort.
“Celia,” he said, surprised he could still speak with the way her long tempting leg tormented him.
“Hmmm?”
“What are you doing?”
Her hand started to pet his chest. Long nails scraped over his nipples. He sucked in a harsh breath as his cock hardened to the point of pain.
“If you have to ask, maybe I’m not doing it right. I am pretty inexperienced at this stuff after all.”
He tilted her face up with his hand so to look into those emerald eyes.
“Sweetheart, we don’t have to do this right now. You’re hurt. We can wait until you’ve healed.”
She stared at him and he didn’t see pain in those amazing eyes. He saw need, desire, hunger.
“I was hurt, Damien. But I’ve been hurt before. I’m a survivor and I want to start living like one. I don’t want to waste any more time hiding behind books and lab coats. I want to feel alive and I want you to make me feel that way.”
He would move heaven and hell to give this woman anything she wanted.
“You’re sure?”
“Kiss me, Damien.”
She didn’t need to tell him twice.
He captured her lips in a rough desperate kiss. In his mind, he saw her on the ground, bleeding. He wanted to erase the image from his memory forever.
Tugging her fully on top of him, he grasped her hips and ground himself against her. She moaned and he swallowed the sound. Her hands glided across every inch of him, his hair, face, body. Like she couldn’t get enough of him. It turned him on.
Ripping his lips away from her mouth, he pushed her body up until he had those magnificent breasts at eye level. For a moment, he did nothing but stare.
“You have the most amazing breasts I’ve ever seen.”
Celia let out a nervous giggle. “Thank you.”
“No, thank you. For sharing them with me.”
Then he flicked his tongue over one nipple. She cried out in pleasure so he did it again to the other.
“More!”
Damien parted his lips and took one sweet nipple into his mouth. He swirled his tongue around the turgid bud. She rocked against him and he had a hard time keeping his cool. He wanted nothing more than to lose the boxers and plunge into her, but this was Ce
lia’s first time. She deserved more, and he was determined to give it to her.
His lips left one breast and made their way to the other, while his fingers trailed down, finding the center of her need. She was hot and ready for him. He pressed against her.
“Yes, Damien.” His name hissed out between her teeth and inside he roared with triumph.
He circled her sex, rubbing, but not entering. Not yet. His mouth continued to worship those perfect breasts. Celia squirmed over him, making little mewling sounds of need.
“More please. I need…”
He knew what she needed and he was more than happy to oblige. He thrust a finger inside her. She cried out, pressing down, bringing him in deeper.
“More!” she demanded.
He added a second finger, pumping in and out of her in a slow and steady rhythm.
“Damien, more!”
So demanding, his little Witch. The juxtaposition of her innocence and passion burned him.
“Are you ready, love?”
She gazed down at him, eyes glossed over with need.
“Yes. I need you, Damien. Now.”
He needed her, too. More than he had ever needed anything before in his life. His fingers slipped out of her. She cried out in protest. He pushed his boxers down. His cock sprang free, thick and pulsing. He was so hard. He wanted to thrust into her and ride her hard until they were both spent. But he must be gentle this time. They could do hard and fast later.
She shifted on top of him, spreading her thighs wider until her knees rested on either side of his hips. The tip of his cock pushed against the entrance of her sex. She was ready, but he went slowly. Inch by maddening inch, he pushed into her welcoming warmth. Her hand splayed on his chest, face flushed, head tilted back with a look of pure bliss on her face. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
After what seemed like an eternity, he fully seated himself inside her. She was tight and hot, the fit pure perfection, almost too good. He wouldn’t last long. That was okay; he just needed to hold off enough to give her the most mind-bending pleasure of her life.
He rocked into her, setting a slow pace. His thumb reached down, finding that tiny bundle of nerves and rubbing slow circles.
“Oh, gods,” she swore, moving her hips against his.
She started to move faster, pounding herself down onto him, bringing him even deeper inside her.
“Celia, baby, it’s too much.” It felt too good. No way would he hang on while she did that.
“More,” she screamed. “More!”
She wanted more? He’d give her more. Grabbing her hips, he took control. Thrusting hard and fast. She sat forward, causing him to drive even deeper inside her. He felt her body tremble, her sex started to tighten around him. He pulled out until only the tip remained inside then thrust back in. She screamed out her release, flushing with the most beautiful glow that seemed to light up her entire being. He gave two more hard plunges then roared out his own release.
Celia collapsed on top of him. Harsh breaths filled his ears and he couldn’t tell if they were his or hers.
“That…was…amazing,” she panted.
Beyond amazing. He had never felt that way making love before. His whole body burned like on fire. Need driving his every action. They were perfectly in sync. That had never happened to him. This woman was something special.
“You are amazing,” he answered.
She chuckled. Brushing back her tangled, sweaty hair, he kissed her forehead. She glanced up at him, and they both drew a sharp breath.
Eyes wide, Damien stared at the woman lying on him. The woman who had been through hell and survived. The woman who had enough brains and talent to take on the world. The woman who could turn him inside out with a glance. The woman who looked like a schoolteacher and made love like a sinner. The woman whose eyes now had a thin silver band running around the iris.
The way she stared, he knew his eyes were the same. It only meant one thing. He clutched her tight to his chest, joy filling his every pore. Kissing her sweet lips, still open in shock, he whispered the words he was afraid he might never say.
“Tira. I found you, at last.”
Chapter 16
Ian’s hands were on fire. Not literally, but the man fell to his knees as his palms burned. Slapping his scalding hands to the cold cement floor, he swore. The burn signified a terrible event. Someone had broken his confusion spell. Magic left a trail and when tampered with that trail came back to the spell caster. The second his confusion spell broke, he knew.
“Shit!” The High Master would not be please with this news.
His only solace was the asshole who dared to break his spell bled like a stuck pig right about now. The blood curse he attached to his spell was powerful. It would take retribution.
“What is it?” his assistant asked in her annoying, nasally voice. He really couldn’t stand the girl, but she had served the High Master well as a spy and now he had to put up with her in his spell room.
“Someone broke the spell.”
She gasped. “They can translate the language?”
What an idiot! Of course, they could. With the spell broken they could learn it and understand every secret the Kakos had. Since the council discovered its existence, he had protected the secret Kako language with his confusion spell. No one had been able to decipher it. The Kakos passed messages freely without those pesky Enforcers being the wiser.
The deception helped them accomplish so much in the past few years. Now it ended.
The council would soon know every word the Kakos uttered. If they had a Kako transcript, the High Master’s plans might already be in peril. Ian had to tell him. He cringed. The High Master was not a man to piss off. The Kako was hard and cruel. A good man to get behind, but a bad one to kneel in front of. More than likely, he’d lose his head.
“We have to tell him.”
“I know, you fool.” How he wanted to wrap his hands around her neck and squeeze until she gasped her last breath. Cory was such an annoyance. He wished he could send her to the High Master instead. Let the High Master take his anger out on the stupid wannabe Sorceress. But this was his mess. He made the spell. The High Master would collect him for punishment anyway. “Let’s go.”
He strode from the room without a backward glance at Cory. He heard the tap of her heels as she followed closely behind. She wasn’t scared of the High Master. A mistake on her part. The High Master demanded fear. The man could do horrible things without blinking an eye. He didn’t accept failure and he never suffered fools.
“We need to see the High Master, now,” she said to the guards standing watch outside the High Master’s chambers, a haughty arrogance to her tone.
Cory was the biggest kind of fool.
“Please,” he said when one of the guards raised a brow and looked his way. “It’s very important. Tell him it is about the confusion spell.”
The guards shared a look. One nodded to the other and disappeared through the large oak door. After a moment, which felt like an eternity, he reappeared.
“You may enter.” He opened the door and motioned them inside.
Cory waltzed in like the queen of the world. Oh, he couldn’t wait to see the prissy bitch taken down a peg or two. He hoped he had the honor of doing so.
They stepped inside the High Master’s chambers. Ian had been here on numerous occasions. The High Master preferred to conduct his strategy sessions here. The large room had floor-to-ceiling windows along the back wall to let in ample amounts of light. No matter how much light, Ian always felt the darkness when he stepped into this room.
Four hard wooden chairs faced a large, solid cherry desk commissioned from an artist in France, costing well over five thousand dollars. The High Master liked to remind those speaking with him of his power.
Cory and Ian took a seat in the uncomfortable chairs and waited for the High Master to speak. One always waited for the High Master to speak first. His chair faced away from the
m, the position common to how he usually started his meetings. At the moment, Ian was glad not to look at the face of the man who might very well kill him.
“You have news for me, Ian.”
“Yes, High Master.”
“Unpleasant news.” A statement, not a question.
He swallowed past the growing lump of fear in his throat. “Yes, High Master.”
“Go on.”
He swallowed again, cleared his throat and just spat it out. “Someone broke my confusion spell. I felt the connection sever just a few moments ago.” He rubbed his palms together. They no longer burned. Now they were cold and clammy with the sweat of dread.
“Hmmmm, that is unpleasant news.” The deep voice rumbled through the room, echoing off the walls.
“The council will decipher the language in days, if they haven’t already,” Cory spoke. “My old boss is like, a wiz at languages. She tried to translate it before I left. I bet she breaks it down in a matter of hours.”
Ian wanted to strangle the stupid woman sitting beside him. Didn’t she realize the High Master already knew that? Didn’t she know pointing out the problem only made matters worse? If he got out of this office alive, he planned to find a way to shut that mouth for good.
The air stirred as the High Master turned his chair to face them. Dark black eyes shifted from one to the other. Ian felt his heart stop. He was going to die. He was sure of it. The High Master never showed his cards, but the man did not look happy.
“I can trace it.” He blurted out the only thing that might save him.
The High Master glanced his way, fingers steepled below his chin, brows raised.
“Whoever broke the spell, I can find them.” It wouldn’t solve the issue of exposed plans, but it would give the High Master someone else to take his anger out on. “I can trace the magic trail back.”
Magic always left a trail.
The High Master stared pensively at him. For once, thankfully, Cory kept her big mouth shut. Cold sweat trickled down his back, soaking his shirt. His throat constricted. Absolute terror gripped every fiber of his being. He really did not want to die.
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