by Lauren Dane
“Okay, so you know energy never dies, it simply turns into something else. That’s physics. It’s not like I made it up. Anyway, the font doesn’t steal your magick. It collects whatever the magick dissipates into once the function is served. Like a cistern collects rainwater, for example. Only the dissipated energy once collected, will mature into magickal energy over time and be there should anyone need it.
“Essentially, if you were a registered user of the font, each time someone walked through those wards, a glimmer of energy would travel back to the font. But it can’t because you’re not keyed in. It’s either wasted or it amps up the witches here in the club. I don’t own a nightclub but I know enough to think that’s a dumb idea. Alcohol, pheromones and added magickal power is an unstable combination.”
She sat back, crossing her legs, flashing a slice of pale inner thigh. Good goddess, any minute he was going to drool or something. Even so, he wasn’t so far gone that he failed to notice the intelligence she possessed, the calm confidence with which she carried herself.
“We’re not like some of the other clans. I’m not here to hurt you, although I’d like to bite you, right there on your biceps. Just because it looks tasty.” She blushed a little bit, like she was surprised by her own words. He understood the feeling, being off balance at the moment as well.
“You should feel welcome to bite any part of me you like. Within reason.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Then her flirty nature disappeared as she clearly got back to business. “You have to key in or we’ll cut you off. We don’t negotiate on this. If you try to get into the font again, I won’t be back but our hunters will and they’re not nearly as nice as I am.” She shrugged after relaying the threat.
“You say no one has to be clan but clearly they do.”
She made a face, disappointed in that response. “You’re too pretty to be a whiner. Look, you’re powerful, I can see that, but you don’t have enough skill to ward this place on your own. You can key in with me, which I hasten to add will not automatically make you a member of Clan Owen. You’d have access to the font and, let’s be honest, shall we, some goodwill that might allow this place to stay open in our territory. Or you can try it on your own, without our font. You and I both know how that will end.”
“And then you’d be really hard to convince to go out with me.”
She paused and blushed, just a little. The openness of the moment slowed that time in between them for long moments.
She’d spent every day of her entire life around witches. There was always something comfortable about that. Sometimes it was also exciting or even arousing depending on the other witch. But this connection they had, the way she couldn’t stop thinking about touching him, the way the stamp of his magick caught her breath, that was something different. Deeper. A little scary and a lot exhilarating.
As it happened, she liked this man a lot and it pleased her to know he felt the same. He flirted really well too.
“Yes, very likely I’d be quite annoyed if you made me come all the way down here and refused to key in and then called me to ask me on a date. Say to Turandot, which is in town and something I quite love.” Her lips twitched into a breath of a smile before she resumed her best attempt at a calm expression.
“And, if you like, I can give you a bit of a primer on other things you may not know or understand about us.”
“I could key in with you?”
“Of course.” She waited for him to think over his answer. She wasn’t going to push him to rush his choice. He was a businessman, he’d know he had to do it to keep that doorway hidden. But he’d have to find a way to accept it because she had plenty of power to cut him off right then and there. One brief spell and she’d unravel all those ties to the font and his spellwork would slowly die off without all the energy he’d been thieving.
“And other things? I could do other things with you?”
She couldn’t deny it. When they did end up in bed, there’d be teeth marks and no few scratches. There was so much something between them. Energy? Yes, but that wasn’t quite it. Chemistry, yes. Attraction, sure. Potential. Yes, that’s what it felt like.
“Let’s start with keying in and we can discuss your definition of other things.” Her insides jittered, thrilled at the idea of working magick with him. Her power flowed, building within, filling, filling as she drew her shields away. Never had it been like this with anyone before.
Normally her magick would rise as she let her shields down, but this was a rush of energy. Surging in reaction to his. She knew she teased him now with hers. Knew tendrils of it slid over his, seducing. It brought her to her metaphorical knees.
The building could fall down around them and it wouldn’t matter. There was nothing else she wanted to do in the world but share magick with Dominic Bright.
“Do I have your permission to ward this room and set a circle?”
He’d been caught by the looks of her. Fascinated and ensnared by all the parts of her. Been impressed by her demeanor and intelligence. But the surge of her energies had washed over and through him with such force it was physical. His own shields had slid aside and his magick rose in response. The pleasure of it shocked straight to his toes. And another place or two.
Clearly working magick with a council witch was a far more intense thing than with a commonwealth witch. Whatever it was, it felt awesome and he wanted a lot more.
Admittedly, her explanation of how the font worked had made him feel better. Not that he really had that much of a choice. She’d been absolutely right when she’d said he didn’t have the skill to keep the wards and other spells working on his own. And he didn’t want any part in exposing his own people by being a selfish sloppy asshole.
“Yes. My permission is freely given.”
Chapter 5
SHE nodded and took a deep breath and her energy actually moved, like the tide, around him. Wow.
“Freely taken.” Efficiently, she took her boots off and padded over to the door, drawing sigils in the air as she spoke under her breath. He only had the barest knowledge of the sort of magick she made as he watched her work. So much skill. She worked the spell, weaving it all together, fitting it perfectly together until it caught hold and came into being.
What he’d tasted of her just moments before had been a whisper of what it was like now. It was as if what he’d experienced had been through a filter, and he supposed that was true; shields were created to keep a witch’s power under control.
He’d never had a taste of another witch so powerful. His skin itched as he watched her set the circle. His body ached for her, drawn to her. His power pressed against his skin.
“I invite you into the circle.” Her eyes lit with the power she’d unleashed, her creamy-pale skin took on a pearlescent glow. Taking in that beauty for long moments, he snapped out of it and stepped in with her, clasping her hands. And for a second everything in him and all around him settled and was totally silent, as if holding a breath.
“I’m just going to key you in. It shouldn’t take very long. Let my power recognize yours and get your signature. Open yourself and let me in.” She paused when he didn’t comply right away. He wasn’t sure what to do. It wasn’t like he ever let anyone in like she was asking. And that tautened sense of something about to happen rode his senses so hard it made him suspicious of it.
She pressed a hand at his sternum. “Your magick lives here. And our shields are a sort of cork, right?”
He nodded, following the logic.
“So it’s useful to have a visual for some witches. Me, for instance. Even when you remove your shields, your tendency will be to hold it back. Those control lessons are the first most of us learn. I sometimes think of a handful of sand. Just unclench and the magick will spill. I’ll catch it.”
Looking deep into her eyes, he knew he could trust her. Not the whys just yet, but he rarely ignored his gut. So he took her advice and threw the locks on his power. It opened up and she f
lowed in. Like, literally. He felt her energy float into his and suddenly, the circle expanded, tightening to the point of near bursting as magickal feedback screamed. He held on, not knowing what would happen if he let go. So he kept feeding her power to try to even things out.
Her eyes, which had been blurred as she worked, snapped into focus and she looked at him, surprise ghosting over her features before she tipped her head back and laughed. The sound of it filled the circle, stroked his skin, tingling. Their magick suddenly eased and mingled in a way so intimate it felt as if it whispered sweet nothings in his ear.
He’d never felt so exposed in his life. Laid bare and undone and yet it felt so good that it was her who’d drawn away all his defenses and left him this way.
“It’s the energy of all the witches who give to the font. The flavor of Clan Owen.” Her murmured words reassured and soothed him past that panicked spot as he let himself truly examine this new connection he had to this font of theirs.
MERIEL looked at him again as he keyed into the font and all that magick and community settled into his system. The wonder and confusion on his face told her that he had no idea it would feel so lovely to be connected to a font. And most likely that he had no idea why their individual magicks had interacted that way.
But she’d grown up around witches and in a clan. She knew what it felt like to share magick, both sexually and metaphysically. Nothing she’d done could compare to what she’d just shared with Dominic.
Not only had every last bit of her magick sprung to her intent nearly instantly, but her ability to work the spells had sharpened. She saw the spell glimmering around them. Vibrant, with all the threads she’d used humming with realized magick.
All in reaction to and in conjunction with his power. It was the combination of their magicks that had ripened into something far more powerful and intense. Dominic Bright was her bond-mate. He clearly had no idea, but it made her happy nonetheless. Simply being with him in a circle made her nearly drunk with the way their power intermingled and caressed.
“This feels amazing,” Dominic murmured. “Does it always feel this way when you work magick with a full-council witch?”
She shook her head. “Working magick with another witch usually feels good, yes. But … Have you never done that before? Felt this level of interconnectedness and power levels with another witch?”
He took a deep breath, leaning in closer and she had to lock her knees to keep from swooning.
“Yes, yes, of course, I’ve worked magick with other witches. My foster father taught me growing up. I’ve learned from teachers. Other witches I met here and there. Though I’ve not let anyone in as far as you. It never felt this good in the past. Christ, Meriel, when it feels like this I can sort of understand why witches get stuck.”
Stuck was slang for a witch who’d become addicted to magic. Magick came to a witch naturally. Each is born with a set of gifts. Some have very little power. A very small group had a great deal of power. Most had aptitude for certain kinds of magick and excelled on some level but overall were just everyday witches with moderate power levels.
Some people got off on that rush of pleasure when magick rushes through your body. And she got that; it felt good after all. But some witches couldn’t get enough and started stealing energy through rites and spells. This unnatural and stolen energy was magic, like what a magician uses. Less powerful and didn’t replenish. Most involved theft of energy from other beings. Most involved pain or blood. Sometimes worse. The more they resorted to magic over their own inherent magickal gifts, the quicker it stripped a witch of their power because it attacked their connection to the earth all around them. Without that connection, the natural connection between witch and ground is broken.
What she had with Dominic wasn’t anything at all like being stuck. Though he had no idea what it was he was feeling, it galled her nonetheless that he seemed unaware that it was special. Which was unfair because he’d clearly felt something major happen and she was all over the map with her emotions.
She mentally slapped herself. “Stealing magick and destroying everything we stand for wouldn’t feel like this. This is something specific and right.” She hesitated for a moment, wondering how exactly to tell him just exactly why.
“There’s something you aren’t saying. Tell me.”
So much for that. Best to be blunt and hope he knew what she was talking about. “We’re bond-mates, Dominic. That’s why it feels this way. Our magick was made to work together. Meant to, as it happens.”
He stood up straighter. “Bond-mates? Sorry, but from what I understand that’s only for council witches. I’m not full-council, Meriel.”
Of course it wasn’t going to be easy. She’d just coached Nell through a mating with a man who despite wanting it couldn’t admit it for some time. “Yes, you are. Or you certainly wouldn’t be my bond-mate. Or anyone else’s. Someone in your line was full-council at some point.”
She touched his temple, the warmth of his skin against her fingertips. A lock of his hair brushed against the back of her hand. She only barely resisted her urge to laugh at the look on his face. Confusion, wonder, anger, denial. He was such an open book. As a full-council witch, she’d grown up knowing at some point she’d ascend to her true power level once she united her magick with her bond-mate. Part of her had figured her bond-mate probably wouldn’t even be a romantic or sexual mating, but one of power only, like the one her mother had.
But the man just a foot away was far more than just a compatriot in magick. This man was meant to be hers in a way she could see on his face he did not begin to understand. Hell, she’d grown up expecting this and she wasn’t sure she completely understood it all.
Nor did it look like he wanted to deal with it just yet. He leaned into her touch nonetheless, feeling the same irresistible lure she did. It would always be that way between them. Now that she’d tasted his magick, she’d crave more.
And to be honest with herself, she was sure that regardless of the bond, she’d be drawn to the man she stood so deliciously close to.
The storm of what ifs and when will it bes that had been laying waste to her thoughts, churning in her gut, had all quieted. Gone. It wouldn’t be easy with this man. She knew it like she knew her name. He had trouble written all over him.
But there was something else too. Something beyond the beauty of the skin stretched taut over muscles. A body she wanted to caress and lick from head to toe. Beyond the cant of the smile that promised very bad and enjoyable things. He was so incredibly beautiful, cocky, self-sufficient. And yet there was a vulnerability there she’d just seen glimpses of. There was something in his eyes that gave her an absolute surety that he’d be worth the struggle.
She expected scientific proof of many things. But sometimes fate was just fate. And he was hers.
Sliding her fingertips down his temple, she found the warmth of his jaw, the softness just beneath, the fragility of him just there. His pulse thundered against her touch as a sound broke from his lips—a ragged moan that tore at her self-control. Opening her hand, she luxuriated in the feel of him against her palm when she slid it around his neck, the hardness of him sending need through her, flooding, intoxicating.
The warmth of his body brought his essence, man and magick, rising to her nose and she shivered at how delicious he was. Her mouth watered as she wanted. Wanted to taste, to lick and kiss and to be licked and kissed.
His eyes, half-mast and burning with some inner light, locked onto hers and nearly sent her to her knees. She paused, not a bad idea really. She wanted to devour him. It hit her with so much force her hands began to tremble.
And then she closed her eyes. Just for a moment.
A vision of him above her, of sliding against him, sweat-slicked skin. Of him inside her hit her and rebounded back to him. With a gasp she opened her eyes, needing to see him, needing to know if she was alone or if he had, indeed felt what she had.
The pale green gaze she found loc
ked on her face told her she wasn’t alone, which sent heat through her anew. His eyes darkened. The flutter of his pulse at the base of his throat caught her eye and she licked her lips.
With a soft intake of breath, he banded her waist with his arm and hauled her against his body. His mouth covered hers and the sweetness of his desire bled through her, saturating every single cell. Need ravaged through her as he drove out all the emptiness in a way she was certain only he was capable of.
She swallowed his ragged moan and dug her nails into his biceps. She’d never wanted anyone before with such raw power, such craven greed. Her skin itched with it, her insides melted as the flames of his energy licked through her.
He tore his mouth away, chest heaving as he strained to breathe. His cock burned into her lower belly where it was quite clear he felt the same way she did.
“I can’t be your bond-mate.” The statement was laced with desperation, but he knew it wasn’t true.
She laughed. “You are and you know it. But it’s sudden. I get that. I can wait until you’re ready.” He would be. It’d just take time. He’d need to get to know her before he could commit. In the meantime, there was no reason at all why they shouldn’t be together, get to know each other. And, um, have sex and stuff. A lot of it.
But not right away. Sex would only make the need grow, only strengthen the connection they had. And there was no way she wanted him to ever wonder if he rushed into things or if he’d been swayed by the scorching-hot sex. And she knew without any doubt at all it would be just that.
She cleared her throat after her mouth had gone dry at the very idea of what they’d be like in bed. “I need to break the circle, all right?”
He nodded, his arm still banded around her waist, making it absolutely clear he had no plans to let go. Yum. Gooseflesh worked over her. She loved an in-charge male and this one spilled magick and testosterone until she drowned in it.
Even when she broke the circle, the intensity of their attraction still made it hard to think straight.