by Alisa Woods
Leksander unfolded his arms. “We’ll need the most powerful witch in your coven,” he said coolly. “To work with Rosalyn and help her to learn whatever spell might reverse the curse.”
“Of course, I would be happy to help my daughter—”
He was cut off by a snort from Guinevere.
He turned a furious look to her, but she just grinned. “Sorry, brother, but you’re not going to fool a dragon. And you are not the most powerful witch in our coven.” She turned to Leksander. “I’m a purebred witch from the founding family of Damon going back three generations. Is that sufficiently powerful for you, sir dragon?”
A smile finally tugged at Leksander’s lips. “Indeed.” He gestured to Rosalyn. “For reasons that are somewhat complicated, the key to making this work is to have Rosalyn perform whatever magic you deem appropriate. She is as yet untrained, but I expect that will be no problem for you.”
Guinevere tilted her head in acknowledgment. Then she clasped her hands together and laced her fingers, which were tipped with red dagger-like nails. “I don’t know if you remember me, dear, but I always thought it was a tragedy what happened to you and your mother.”
Even from the back, obscured by that gorgeous mane of hair, Leonidas could see Rosalyn’s body melt a little in reaction to that tiny morsel of kindness. It wrenched his heart.
The witch gestured her forward. “Well! Let’s get started right away, shall we?” She threw a glance at Cinaed and Leksander and the hulking form of Leonidas behind them. “You don’t need to lurk around and menace us while we’re spell-making. You have my promise that Rosalyn is in good hands.”
Leonidas snorted his disbelief, hopefully making that clear. Just in case, he pushed the thought to her. She is my beloved, witch. Take care to treat her well.
Guinevere looked surprised at this, arching one pencil-thin eyebrow quickly and briefly, but then giving him a nod. A silent agreement. That she kept it between them reassured him.
“I’ll be coming along, just the same,” Cinaed said, no room for negotiation in his voice.
“Oh, very well,” Guinevere said with a roll of her eyes. She ushered Rosalyn toward the inner sanctum of the Damon coven. Rosalyn glanced back to give Leonidas a small smile. She was trying to reassure him, something that did nothing to soothe the panic in his chest as she disappeared inside with Cinaed and Guinevere. Leonidas probably couldn’t follow them even if he wanted to—the doorway was simply too small.
Silas remained behind, and he suddenly had a look of uncertainty that bordered on panic.
Leksander stepped forward and got in his face. “Rosalyn may expect very little from you, given your history,” he growled in Silas’s face. The man shrunk back. “But I expect you to fucking make this work. There is more riding on this than you know, warlock. Don’t fuck with me.”
An ashen Silas shook his head rapidly. “Wouldn’t think of it,” he said breathily.
Leksander turned his back on Silas, and Leonidas followed him out the double frosted-glass doors of Urban Damon Design.
We’re not really leaving her here, are we? Leonidas asked his brother.
“Of course, not. We’ll wait in the lobby and monitor from there.” Leksander punched the button for the elevator, a little harder than necessary. He slightly dented the metal plate. “Cinaed knows the details of the curse. And you know how he is.”
Less intimidating? Not scary as fuck? But Leonidas knew what he meant. Cinaed was a people-talker, and if there was a way to smooth Rosalyn’s entrée into the coven, he would make it work.
“Let’s face it,” Leksander said, arms crossed as he waited for the elevator. “Cinaed is better with women than both of us combined.”
Leonidas laughed again, leaking more dragonfire into the hallway and shaking his head. Truer words, my brother…
Leksander peered at him. “Either way, this works out, yes?”
Leonidas bobbed his head. Either way, Rosalyn had her chance. Now it was up to her and Cinaed and Guinevere Damon to help her learn the magic she needed to make this happen. Even if it didn’t break the curse—which he highly doubted was possible—she now had a powerful connection with the coven, backed up by promises both good and bad from the House of Smoke.
She would be fine. Especially since Leonidas would make his brothers swear to eternally protect Rosalyn and the coven of Damon after he was gone.
They would need it if the treaty broke.
Rosalyn was in a dreamy haze.
It seemed like the walls of Guinevere Damon’s office were wobbling, or maybe undulating, as if Rosalyn were seeing them through a pool of water.
“Think about Leonidas Smoke.” Guinevere’s voice boomed as the black-haired witch standing in front of her seemed to sway back and forth. It was making Rosalyn sick to her stomach. The Damon witch had conjured a spell—a whitish puff of smoke laced with blue sparks of magic—and blown it in Rosalyn’s face. This was the first spell they were trying after Rosalyn had explained the situation of Leonidas’s curse, and Cinaed had filled in a lot of the back story.
“I’m right here with you, Rosalyn.” Guinevere’s voice echoed around inside Rosalyn’s head. She didn’t remember her aunt from the fuzzy days of her childhood, even though she’d seen her bio on the company’s website. “There’s nothing to be afraid of, but I need you to focus. Think about how big and sexy that shifter dragon is. I sensed the two of you were a little… attached. Hold onto that energy. It will draw us toward him.”
Rosalyn nodded, but then stopped because she felt like it would tip her over. “How about if I close my eyes?” she asked, but her words were slurred.
Suddenly, Cinaed was by her side, holding her up and whispering in her ear. “Are you all right, my lady?”
She patted his strong arms. “Yeah, I just… just hold me Cinaed. I feel like I’m about to fall over.”
The hold he had on her elbows and around her waist strengthened. He was so strong—her legs could go out entirely, and she’d still be standing upright.
“Focus, Rosalyn,” Guinevere said, her voice booming again through the magic that connected them in the spell and this weird dreamy state.
Rosalyn closed her eyes and thought of Leonidas.
She had so many emotions tangled up with that man. Sexual attraction—off the charts. Heart-wrenching story—totally there. A sense of owing him, of gratitude in the best possible way—tons of that. Which was why she was here. But listening to Cinaed tell the story of that long-ago time when Leonidas was sleeping with another witch but not loving her, and how it wound up with her cursing him… and then picturing the hundreds of years and who knew how many women he had been with, never falling in love, never until now… with her… it stirred around so many things inside her.
Focus, Rosalyn, she chastised herself.
Instead of thinking about herself, she focused on the gorgeous, blue-eyed dragon that had somehow quickly become the center of her universe. The sweet way he held her when she needed it. The wordless way he helped her when, by all rights, he should have shoved her out the door, if not flambéed her with that magical dragonfire. And then, more intimately, how his body slid against hers, how he touched and teased and kissed with that sparking magical touch everywhere on her body, filling her up with that freaking huge cock—
“Oh my,” Guinevere said in a suddenly breathy voice. “I can see why you like him.”
A hot flash of embarrassment ran through Rosalyn, and she popped open her eyes. “You can see that?” There was no question they were connected in this spell, but holy shit…
Guinevere smirked. “We’re spell-making together, my dear little niece. You’re conjuring memories in magic space. Of course, I can see them. But keep going—the connection between you and Leonidas is strong, and I need to find his magical signature—sort of like reading his aura in magic space. That way I can find what’s blocking him, magically speaking.”
Rosalyn’s embarrassment simmered down a little. She flicked
“Why don’t we just bring Leonidas in here or go to him—” Rosalyn tried.
Guinevere shook her head, and it shimmered around in the dreamy vision still filling Rosalyn’s head. “He could be standing right next to you,” Guinevere said, “and it wouldn’t matter. We’re finding him in magic space, Rosie dear. Now, please, focus.”
So Rosalyn closed her eyes again and really tried. She visualized the essence of the man—kind and giving and hot as sin. And in love with her… Suddenly, she felt lifted up out of her body, and the scene changed—swirling and swirling and then shooting toward some other dark, sparkling space that didn’t seem to have up or down or sideways.
“Oh, yes.” It was Guinevere’s voice, but Rosalyn couldn’t see her—all she could see was a beautiful, bronze-colored dragon floating in blackness. But there was more—all around him was a web of pulsing golden energy lines. A magical cage humming with energy and locking him inside. The dragon in the cage didn’t recognize her, or at least he showed no sign of it. Unlike the intelligent blue eyes she saw outside Urban Damon, this dragon’s eyes were as bronze as his scales, and he thrashed against the cage that held him, howling each time he touched the magical lines encircling him.
“Call to him, Rosalyn.” Guinevere’s voice floated in the space, disembodied, but as real as anything here.
“Leonidas!” Rosalyn called out. Instantly, she was transported inches away from the golden cage. His dragon stilled when he saw her, and then he lunged for her with a whole fistful of six-inch-long talons. Rosalyn shrieked and yanked back, but the cage pulsed and kept the talons from breaching the magic web.
“Again!” Guinevere demanded.
But now Rosalyn was afraid. This wasn’t her Leonidas. This was… an animal. And more than fear, pain filled her at the idea of him being transformed into this.
“Leonidas, please,” she begged the thrashing creature. “Please try to come back to me.”
But his focus was already pinned on her like a laser. He thrashed and roared and sprayed dragonfire all around the cage, but it just bounced off the energy of the golden bars and seared him with a charring smoke. The more he fought, the brighter the bounds of his cage.
“No,” Rosalyn sobbed. “Stop! You’re hurting yourself.”
“Enough!” The ringing bell of Guinevere’s voice yanked Rosalyn out of that magical space, whatever it was, and the office came into focus again. Rosalyn sagged into Cinaed’s arms, as limp as a dishrag.
“What did you do to her?” he demanded of Guinevere.
Rosalyn patted his arm to reassure him, but it was weak. “I’m fine, Cinaed. Really.” Truth was, she was exhausted, wrenched out emotionally. But at least the wobbling of the walls was gone—Guinevere had dissipated the spell.
She was pacing the office and templing her fingers, each red nail clacking against the other as she thought. “The power of that binding spell is immense. And yet, somehow…”
Rosalyn blinked away the last of the blurriness. “What?”
Guinevere stopped her pacing. “His love is feeding power directly into the cage. The more he loves you, the stronger it becomes.”
Rosalyn frowned. “Are you saying I should try to make him not love me?” She guessed that should have been obvious from the start, but for some reason, the idea of it caused a sharp pain deep inside her chest. How silly was that? It wasn’t like she was in love with him—and if she wasn’t, it wasn’t fair that he should love her. Especially given the circumstances.
Guinevere raised an eyebrow. “Do you think that is possible?” She said it in a strange way like she doubted Rosalyn could stop him from loving her—as if that was an impossible task—or that she didn’t think Rosalyn was up to trying.
Rosalyn stood straighter and pushed away from Cinaed’s embrace. “I’ll do whatever it takes. He doesn’t deserve this.”
Guinevere nodded and started pacing again.
Cinaed was giving her a pinched look.
“What?” Rosalyn asked him, defensively. “Wouldn’t you do anything to break the curse?”
“Aye, my lady,” he said, cautiously. “But I think you underestimate the power that love has.”
Well, that was likely true. What did she know of love, anyway? All these curses and treaties showed that love had some kind of crazy magical power she never suspected. Even more so if what Guinevere said was true—that the more Leonidas loved her, the stronger the cage. She supposed that was obvious once she saw him turn wyvern, but it was altogether something different to actually see the magic of love. And it was a cage.
She shuddered. So fucked up.
Guinevere drifted to one of the many shelves that lined her office. There were ancient, thick spellbooks stacked haphazardly all over the place.
“Okay, so love is a cage,” Rosalyn said, drifting away from Cinaed and toward the bookshelves. “Fucked up, but true. Do you have a spell that can break something like that?”
Guinevere ran her hands along the darkened leather of the spellbooks, stopping at one and pulling the thick volume from the shelf. She carried it to her desk and plopped it down heavily on the burnished wood. When she flipped it open, Rosalyn couldn’t help gaping at all the gilt lettering and gorgeous cursive ink. This was a work of art compared to the ragged spellbooks she had bought off the traders who drifted through her shop. Which hopefully meant that Guinevere’s spells would actually work.
Some of the spells were illustrated—pictures of demons and shifters and vampires. Mostly it was humans, though—people in all states of torment and happiness.
Guinevere was rapidly flipping through the pages. “I tried a simple reverse enslavement spell while we were in that magical space with Leonidas. Had no effect whatsoever, although I suspected as much. From what you’ve said, this is based on a love spell as much as a death spell.”
Cinaed nodded, also peering over Guinevere’s shoulder to check out the spellbook. “The original witch’s death gave it power, but love is definitely the trigger.”
Guinevere slid him a side look but then focused back on the book. “There are dozens of love spells. Potions, hexes, powders… all different kinds of delivery mechanisms. Attraction spells, erotic spells, friendship spells—the list is endless. Everything from enchanting someone to worship you to conjuring sexual slavery for a brief period of time. So many flavors of love and sex and attraction. This is a tricky thing.”
“Well, let’s try them all,” Rosalyn said, her frustration coming out.
Guinevere pressed her lips together. “How much time do we have?”
Cinaed frowned. “Not much. Although there is no way to know. The prince is already at the end of his life. We shouldn’t waste time, but at the same time, we need to do everything possible.”
Guinevere kept flipping through the spellbook. “Most of these are far too weak. From what I’ve already seen of that cage’s strength, we need something extraordinarily powerful. Or…” She flipped faster and then stopped, pegging her long, red fingernail to a spell written in some kind of language that Rosalyn couldn’t read.
“Or what?” she asked.
“Or we can think outside the box—or the cage if you will.” Guinevere tapped the spell with her finger. “This is a commitment spell.” She turned to Rosalyn. “If I understand what happened correctly, the scorned witch was upset that Leonidas might fall in love with someone else. But what if it isn’t a love spell at all? What if it was a commitment spell? Maybe she wanted him for herself and didn’t want him to bond in an intimate way with anyone else. So we use a commitment spell to make him committed to you instead. It’s a version of love, perhaps even stronger than the romantic-swoony kind of “falling in love.” It’s the commitment that mated couples must be utterly devoted to each other to the exclusion of all others. If his commitment to being with you, Rosalyn, could overcome the strength of the commitment spell holding him to her, the two should shatter one another and break both of you free.”
“Both of us?” Rosalyn asked, a small twitter of nervousness running down to her stomach. “You mean, this spell doesn’t just commit him to me, but me to him?”
Guinevere studied her, then gave her one slow nod. “You said you would do whatever it takes.”
Rosalyn swallowed. Would she? Would she pledge herself to be with him forever even if she didn’t love him? “But you’re saying that if it works, we’ll both be free again?”
“Perhaps,” Guinevere said. “But you have to make the total commitment yourself in order for the spell to work in the first place. You can’t hedge on it, Rosalyn. If you do, it won’t work.”
Rosalyn flicked a look to Cinaed, who was also looking at her intently. But he said nothing, leaving it to her. She pulled in a breath, and said, “Okay. Let’s try it.” She hoped she wasn’t making some horrible mistake.
“There’s one other thing,” Guinevere said, easing back from the spellbook with a brief glance at Cinaed. To Rosalyn, she said, “There’s a potion you’ll drink, then you’ll have sex, and then he’ll make the commitment to you.”
“Wait, what?” Rosalyn asked, leaning back. “Um… he’s a dragon.”
Cinaed looked seriously uncomfortable, but he wasn’t saying anything.
“I’m not having sex with a beast,” Rosalyn said. “I can’t believe I even have to say that out loud.”
“Technically, it’s possible,” Cinaed said, his discomfort hunching up his shoulders.
“What?” Rosalyn’s mind was blanking out, and her mouth was hanging open.
“It’s just that… the mechanics of it…” It was like the words were being tortured out of Cinaed. “No, you’re right, not even a question.”
“What the actual fuck, Cinaed?” Rosalyn stepped back from him.
He gritted his teeth. “I know the prince. He would never agree to it, even if you were willing. But it is how dragons reproduce in wyvern form. And it illustrates everything dragons hate about their eventual fate, so no, my lady. It is not an option.” He turned Guinevere. “You’ll have to find something else.”
-->