I started blubbering again. “You don’t know what it was like, thinking she’d killed you. And that was before … before this …” Unable to supply any additional words, I swept my hand to indicate the bedroom. My disjointed movement cost me my hold on the chocolate cosmos, and I had to scramble to catch the flower before it hit the ground.
“Blossom had hundreds of flowers in here,” Warner said. “Strewn all across the bed. I’d spoken to her about the possibility of planting some for you at the townhouse. She must have anticipated my giving you my parents’ betrothal rings today. And interpreted it to mean …” He trailed off, then stepped forward to brush his fingers over the chocolate cosmos carefully cradled in the palm of my hand.
“Were … are the rings a proposal, then?”
“There was a moment, that morning when you brought me back, that I didn’t recognize you.”
“I know.”
“I never want that to happen again. The rings are a promise. A promise to never leave if it’s in my power to stay. So I’ll consent to having the sentinel magic that ties me to the instruments and the map severed. For you. For me.”
I lifted my arms. Warner swept me off my feet before I finished the movement.
I wrapped myself around his neck, clinging to and kissing him fiercely. He always felt indestructible to me in our most intimate moments. As if nothing could knock him off his feet. As if he was steady as a mountain in the midst of a storm. Even if that metaphor cast me as the storm. And he would actually be indestructible once he was freed from the sentinel spell. Shailaja could never send him away again.
Then he’d be bound only to whatever he chose to be bound to. And after the magic tying him to the instruments and the map was removed, I hoped like hell it was me he wanted to be with. By choice. Not just because I had been tasked to collect the instruments, or that my magic was ‘tasty’ as Suanmi had suggested.
Warner slipped his hands through my hoodie and underneath my T-shirt-and-tank-top combo, drawing my attention firmly into the present and away from any sense of what-might-be.
I groaned as his magic followed in the wake of his touch. I pressed my tongue to his, then sucked at the tip lightly before releasing it. I inhaled all of his chocolate goodness, allowing his sweet cherry and creamy whipped cream to fill every empty bit of me.
He slipped his thumbs underneath the edge of my bra just as I attempted to pull his sweater off over his head. We ended up laughing through a tangle of clothing and limbs and drying tears.
Then our touch became heated, intense, as more of our skin was exposed. I adored the way he held me — firmly, without fear that I’d bruise or break.
He bowed over my breasts, my nipples hardening before he even made contact. Then he slipped his hand between my legs, drawing a low moan from me. I clung to his shoulders, arching back as pleasure lapped up and over me from my core.
“Warner …” I whispered.
“I’ve got you, Jade.”
“I know.”
I leaned down, breaking his concentration on my breasts, and wrapped my hand around the length of him. He was a warm, enticing combination of silky skin and firm flesh. It was his turn to groan.
“Now I’ve got you …” I snagged his earlobe with my teeth.
He laughed, sounding a little too in control. So I increased the speed and pressure of my stroke.
Warner picked me up and threw me onto the bed. I fell back willingly, laughing breathlessly. He wrapped his hand around my ankles, dragging me closer to him at the edge.
Then he knelt down and applied his tongue to where his fingers had just been dancing.
Ah. Well, that was one way to divert my attention.
I groaned. “Warner …”
He gathered my legs closer together, narrowing his available space but increasing my pleasure. Warmth spread from between my thighs, up across my pelvis and lower belly.
I wanted to beg him to stop teasing and simply mount me. I wanted him deep inside me, but I knew he wanted to pleasure me first.
He slipped his hand upward, caressing my belly to start, then reaching higher to pinch my nipple between his fingers.
I cried out, convulsing with an almost painful pleasure.
He didn’t stop.
Instead, he slid his free hand underneath my ass, lifting me a few inches off the bed while he increased the rate of his tongue’s ministrations and rolled my nipple between his fingers.
I orgasmed, writhing as the pleasure crashed over me, fiercely and almost without warning.
Warner rose up over me, replacing his tongue with his fingers. His touch was soft, teasing the last few convulsions from me.
“One,” he whispered, kneeing my legs apart and slipping into my wetness.
I cried out again, clinging to him from the intensity of being entered so quickly after climaxing.
He slowly withdrew, careful and sweet. Then he swiftly slipped back inside me.
“Jade …” he whispered into my hair.
I gasped and clung to him, seemingly incapable of doing anything else in the moment.
“Jade,” he whispered into my neck.
I turned my head toward him, pressing my lips behind his ear. Then I reached down to grab his ass, pulling him tighter and deeper within me.
“Jade.” Warner kissed me softly, reaching his own end with a few more strokes and a quiet groan.
He collapsed over me.
“One,” I said smugly.
He laughed, rolling off me. His delicious magic bounced against the blood wards that coated the walls all around us, then reverberated back. I almost orgasmed a second time as that tasty power flowed over and around me.
My nipples tightened even further. I lifted myself half off the bed, throwing my leg over Warner. I straddled him with my hands splayed across his chest. I could feel his heart pounding.
Leaning over to deliberately brush my nipples against his chest, I slowly kissed my way along the simple lines of the black dragon tattoo etched across his collarbone and over his shoulder.
I bit his neck lightly. He groaned, bucking underneath me.
“Seconds?” I asked teasingly.
∞
Cocooned in a tangle of cotton sheets and Warner’s warm body, I drifted in the aftermath of our intense lovemaking session. I never felt quite as relaxed as I did after three orgasms. Of course, coming three times in one evening hadn’t been a habitual thing for me. Not until Warner.
“You know she left that flower on purpose,” Warner murmured.
“Blossom?”
“Yes.”
“Smart.”
“Yeah. You’ll leave her extra cupcakes?”
“I’ll bake a batch just for her. I’m pretty sure her favorite is Delight in a Cup.”
“Lemon buttercream?” Warner smacked his lips, sleepily appreciative.
I laughed quietly. “And white cake.”
“Fluffy … sweet … moist cake.” Warner grunted his approval. Then his arm became heavy across my back as he drifted off to sleep.
I curled around him, allowing myself a moment of bliss. Tomorrow, I’d have to face Shailaja. But if that meant being able to break the weird bond between her and Warner, then I was cool with it.
Plus, if it came down to it, I knew I had no problem skewering her. Even she knew my jade knife was a serious threat.
As sleepy as I was, a slow, wicked smile spread across my face.
Yeah, I was the big bad she’d fled from in Peru.
Okay … so maybe I had gotten a little bored over the past year.
Cupcakes and dim sum kept a girl content for only so long. Maybe it was time to get my hands just a little bit dirty.
∞
While Warner slept through the early-morning hours, I slipped into the second bedroom and added the betrothal rings to my necklace. The room was still decorated in piles of silk and goose down, as it had been when Scarlett was living in the apartment full time. It felt empty, though.
&nbs
p; I hadn’t casually made trinkets for a long time. Ever since I discovered they could be used for dark magic … or that they were magic at all. But I missed the process of stringing the unusual items I’d collected for years onto lengths of silver chain, then melding tiny bits of residual magic together to make something pretty. Something pretty and potentially deadly.
Now, the bits of magical things — knickknacks, polished jade, and chipped figurines — lining the shelves gathered dust while I spent my days at the bakery and every available evening with Warner. Well, they would have gathered dust if Blossom hadn’t seemingly claimed every personal space owned by a Godfrey as her territory.
I settled at the desk underneath the window. The blinds were open, and the lights of West Vancouver and North Vancouver along the North Shore Mountains beckoned from across the inlet. The cloudless sky was almost as dark as the craggy, snowcapped peaks.
I freed the betrothal rings from their platinum cage. Untwining the necklace, I lifted it off over my head and stretched out its full length on the dark, worn wood of the desk. Years ago, it had taken me eight months to pay installments on the thick-linked gold chain from a pawnshop downtown. It hadn’t come with a drop of magic. Nor had I understood then how over the course of every day I wore it and every wedding-ring charm I added to it, I was creating something so powerful.
Some deep part of me believed that magic needed a purpose — even the residual magic unintentionally left behind by a powerful Adept. For anyone else, the rune-marked betrothal rings were simply beautiful gold bands. In my hands, they would become something more.
Maybe that was egotistical, but I didn’t think so. It was an acknowledgment. A celebration of magical energy once trapped and now released.
Adding the rings to my necklace was more about magic and strength than soldering or melting points or casting metal. But it still took me a couple of hours. I wanted to shift a few of the wedding bands around so that I could keep the betrothal rings together. I wanted them to rest over my heart when I wore the necklace wound twice.
As I worked, dragon magic danced beneath my fingers. Tiny hints of witch and sorcerer and vampire magic rose up to tickle my taste buds. Traces of power kissed my skin as I smoothed and coaxed the gold necklace and the gem-crusted rings into a cohesive whole.
I was happy.
Settled. Content. Unified within.
I missed creating in this fashion. Baking cupcakes every day was satisfying. I felt productive and valued in my role as a baker and small-business owner. But my alchemist magic worked on another level. It brought a lightness to my very being.
I missed creating magical items. Maybe I’d even forgotten who I was in some fundamental way. Any alchemy I’d performed in the last two years — most of it under duress — had been rushed and purposeful. Even when adding the wedding rings Kett had given me to my necklace, I hadn’t immersed myself in the process. I had only been trying to quickly repair the damage Shailaja had done while draining the necklace’s power.
Something had changed since then.
I had changed.
Maybe it was the glimmer of hope that Suanmi’s strange and terrifying visit had triggered. Maybe it was that I could almost see the future for the first time since Sienna left me. Or, rather, that I knew I was close to getting a glimpse of that future. Right after I got Warner away from Shailaja.
I put the finishing touches on my necklace. The taste of residual dragon magic abated.
I lifted the chain over my head and twined it twice around my neck. The newly added energy flowed through it, topping up its magical reservoir and strengthening the protection the necklace could provide if I called upon it.
Shailaja had drained the chain a year ago. But thanks to Kett and Warner — and to dancing in an Adept club in San Francisco — it felt more powerful than ever.
I would never voluntarily hand my necklace over to anyone. Never again. And if they did manage to get it off me? They’d have to kill me to keep it.
The pool of people who could actually inflict bodily harm on me was getting rather shallow. Except for the one I was about to add to the list, unfortunately. But if the warrior said he had Shailaja under control … well … who was I to question one of the nine most powerful people in the world?
Especially because all I wanted to do was snuggle back into bed with my hunky boyfriend for a final hour of sleep before my alarm went off.
Priorities.
It was good to keep them straight … if only minute by minute.
∞
The chocolate cosmos and a handwritten note were resting on the pillow where Warner’s head had been cushioned. I reached out and brushed my fingers across the slightly bruised petals. I wondered where it had fallen during our lovemaking.
And the fact that Warner had retrieved it and placed it so I’d see it when I woke?
Well, let’s just say I was learning that some things were better than chocolate.
Blasphemy, I know.
The note read:
I’ve gone to chat with the treasure keeper.
See you there. — W.
I played with the rough edges of the paper, curling it in my fingers as I contemplated the note. Warner had fished what appeared to be a brown bank envelope out of the recycling bin, then had written on one torn half of the back. His black-inked scrawl was thick and barely discernible.
I wondered how he was feeling about having the sentinel spell removed. Ready to have that part of his life over with, presumably, based on the fact that my bed was empty.
My alarm went off.
Time to bake.
Then later, I’d help my sworn enemy become even more powerful.
Life was weird like that.
CHAPTER FOUR
After my shift in the bakery, I showered, scrunched my hair until it was a halo of golden curls, and brushed on some makeup. But I hesitated as I dug my dragon leathers out of the closet. And not because I was afraid they wouldn’t fit. I’d actually been training. Yes, voluntarily. Mixed martial arts, mostly. I went to three different studios — I was cheating on my trainers — to cover my unnatural endurance. And I only really tested my strength and my sword skills when Warner and I sparred in Gran’s garage.
No. I hesitated over what to wear because I wanted to look like I didn’t give a crap.
I tossed the leathers aside, opting for an older pair of skinny-leg Seven jeans, a black tank top, and knee-high black leather boots — my classic Cece Fluevogs. I added my wildly appropriate ‘Attempted Murder’ T-shirt to the ensemble, even though a section of the hem was loose.
Then I smirked at myself in the full-length mirror.
The entire outfit was a disdainful middle finger.
Except the boots. They just rocked. I wasn’t about to compromise my footwear — not for fashion, or utility, or deadly grudges.
∞
I stopped at the safe to shove the dragonskin map into my satchel, reminding myself I had every intention of giving it back to the treasure keeper when whatever fiasco I was about to participate in was done. Then I hightailed it out of my office.
Crossing through the pantry and down into the bakery basement, I didn’t bother with the overhead light. I jogged down the wooden steps, quickly crossing the dirt floor to stand before the brick and concrete of the east wall. Warner used the portal weekly, but I hadn’t been in the basement for over a year.
Calling up the golden magic of the portal was like accepting a bear hug from a long-lost beloved friend.
I crossed through the buoyant magic. One moment, I was standing on the dirt floor of the basement. The next, I was stepping onto a white marble floor. As the portal snapped shut behind me, my senses were momentarily scrambled by the intense amount of utter power that imbued the curved walls, the nine intricately carved doors, and the gold-leafed pillars that marked the center of the dragon nexus.
Chi Wen, the guardian of Asia, wandered through one of the two archways that led to the residences. The ancien
t far seer was wearing a ridiculously large green T-shirt. It was printed with an image of three leering cartoon bananas, along with the rhetorical question Eating Out? Paired with his white robes, gold sandals, and neatly combed white hair, the ensemble was just … wrong.
I was absolutely certain the T-shirt was a gift from my green-haired BFF. The werewolf had a weird obsession with kinky fruit T-shirts. I never got any of the jokes … if they were jokes at all.
The far seer didn’t appear to notice me as he crossed toward the ornate door that led to his territories in Asia. The oriental-inspired etchings appeared to be coated with gold paint, but I had always suspected that the door itself was solid gold.
“You are expected, dragon slayer.” Chi Wen spoke in his heavily accented English without looking at me.
I grimaced, then quickly dipped my head and shoulders in a low bow. “Far seer,” I said, intending to follow through with some other nicety. But as I raised my head, he was suddenly standing far too close to me, so that I ended up flinching away instead.
“When you request your audience, it is customary to bring a gift of magic.” Chi Wen blinked up at me as if trying to focus his eyes. Then, as though he’d spotted what he’d been looking for, he grinned. “Balance must always be maintained.”
“You … I …” I tried to make sense of what he was saying, then gave up. “I don’t understand.”
“When you visit the oracle in Washington state.” He pronounced ‘Washington’ deliberately, as if it was a new word for him.
“I won’t be requesting anything from Rochelle’s mind … or magic. Ever.”
Chi Wen’s grin widened. “You are not all the oracle sees, warrior’s daughter.”
“Okay.” I shuffled my feet.
“The green-haired werewolf gave me this T-shirt. But you don’t like it.”
“I … it seems a bit irreverent.”
“Yes. I like that. She survived, but she is not happy about the circumstances. She blames me. The shirt is a punishment.”
“Sorry? What circumstances?”
Chi Wen reached out and patted my forearm. Thankfully, the gesture wasn’t accompanied by a blast of his seer magic. “We will have time to chat later. I will explain all.”
Artifacts, Dragons, and Other Lethal Magic Page 5