Psychic's Spell (Legion of Angels Book 6)

by Ella Summers

“And that’s no way to live. Life isn’t clean. It isn’t perfect and orderly and always on schedule. It’s not spotless swords and sterile sheets. It’s unordered lists and dirty laundry. Life is messy and chaotic and, best of all, unpredictable. Our weaknesses, the people we love, our imperfections, not knowing what’s going to happen every second of every day—that’s what makes it all worth living. The Legion believes those soldiers’ loved ones were their weakness. But that’s not true at all. Our enemy is arrogance, the blind assertion that we have no weaknesses, that we are completely apart and cut off from ‘lesser’ humans. Instead of this blind belief that we are infallible, instead of the Legion ignoring that we have connections, they should be protecting those we care about. Because it’s not magic that will win this war and save humanity. It is compassion.”

  Harker blinked. “Good speech.”

  “Thank you.”

  “What they say about opposites attracting has to be true. You must drive Nero insane with all the ‘unordered lists and dirty laundry’.”

  “Often, yes,” I laughed.

  We didn’t say another word about Nero. We were both worried about him and trying hard not to think about it.

  Harker cleared his throat. “Enough slacking off. Show me what you’ve got.”

  But before I could plan my attack, he thrust his hands in front of his chest. Telekinetic magic exploded out of his fists. It hit me like an invisible wrecking ball. I caught myself as I began to slip, planting my feet on the ground.

  “You’ve been practicing,” Harker declared when the psychic storm had finally dissipated.

  “I have too many sleepless nights of training to thank for that. Plus an unexpected visit from the Lord of the Legion.”

  “Ronan visited you?”

  “Yes. He gave me some tips. And a potion.”

  The door to the gym swung open. I turned eagerly toward it, fully expecting to find Nero standing there. My hope fizzled out when I found Colonel Fireswift instead. Jace walked in behind him.

  Colonel Fireswift’s face was cold and expressionless again. Whatever brief emotional outburst he’d had, it was over. The vicious, calculating angel had returned, and he had me caught in his crosshairs.

  “Come with me, Pierce,” he said. “I’m promoting you and Jace.”

  I didn’t harbor any hope that Colonel Fireswift had decided I wasn’t such a dirty street rat after all.

  “The anarchists are bleeding the Legion dry,” he said, his eyes burning with cold fire. “They are trying to cut off our power, to weaken us by killing our angels and future angels.” He frowned at me. “I don’t like you, but you’re ready for the next level.” His gaze shifted to Jace. “The Legion needs you both to step up.”

  Jace nodded, his face set with determination.

  “I know you’re ready, so don’t you dare die.” Colonel Fireswift’s voice was as hard as diamonds. “I forbid it. To die is treason.”

  It was so ridiculous to say such a thing—that my death would be an act of treason—but I got what he meant. We were fighting for something big, something beyond our own personal needs. The Legion could be cruel, but we were all that stood between the monsters and the end of humanity. As we’d just seen, even the great Magitech wall could fail the people of Earth. The Legion, however, could not afford to fail them.

  Colonel Fireswift led the way to the grand hall. The room was packed. Every Legion soldier in the Chicago office must have been standing here, and yet the hall was as quiet as a tomb. No one spoke; they hardly moved. A promotion ceremony at the Legion of Angels was typically characterized by tuxedos and ballgowns, but no one was dressed up today. They were all in uniform, all standing in perfect lines with nearly identical expressions on their faces. It felt more like a funeral than a promotion.

  My gaze shifted from the black silk banners hanging on the walls, to the vases of white roses on the tables. It was a funeral. A funeral for everyone we’d just lost.

  Stepping onto a raised platform at the center of the room, Colonel Fireswift began the ceremony. “Traitors have besieged the Legion of Angels. They have defiled our halls, turned their backs on their immortal duty, and killed our comrades. But from the ashes, we will rise stronger than ever before.”

  Jace and I stood beside him, the only candidates at this unexpected promotion ceremony. Jace was in uniform, but I was still wearing my sweaty workout suit. No one seemed to care.

  Colonel Fireswift recited the usual Legion lines. “We bear witness here today as two of our own challenge themselves once more to take their next step in life, to strengthen themselves and the Legion in preparation for the days to come.”

  “For the days to come,” repeated the audience.

  “Leda Pierce, step forward.”

  Colonel Fireswift’s voice was gruff. He wasn’t nice, but this sure beat his usual disposition. He didn’t make any derisive comments this time. Today, he was all business. This ceremony wasn’t about personal feelings. It was about refilling the void in the Legion’s upper ranks.

  I faced him.

  “Sip now of the gods’ Nectar,” he said.

  He was hiding his pain well, but it was still in there. I actually did feel sorry for him. I couldn’t shake the memory of the agony in his eyes when he’d lost his daughter. It haunted me, the sight of that strong and hard angel breaking down, losing himself to his anguish.

  “Consume the magic of their sixth gift. Let it fill you, making you strong for the days to come.”

  “For the days to come,” everyone repeated once more.

  He set the goblet in my hands. I lifted it to my mouth and drank, not thinking, just doing. I had to trust that I was prepared enough. Much as Colonel Fireswift hated me, he was not trying to weed me out this time. His dislike of me was less important to him right now than his need to see the Legion survive this—and his desire to crush the bigger threat, the Pioneers who’d dealt such a heavy blow to us this day.

  The Nectar poured down my throat like a burning river, igniting my magic and awakening my senses. I felt alive again, invigorated. It was as though a weight had lifted from my chest, evaporating my worries. I knew it was just the high of the Nectar, but I didn’t care. I hadn’t realized until now just how long I’d been holding my breath, or how long I’d been buried beneath the burden of things I couldn’t control.

  My whole body was buzzing with magic, but I tried to keep my steps steady and straight as I moved aside for Jace. Colonel Fireswift went through the lines again with him, but I hardly saw the two of them. I didn’t hear them at all.

  An explosion of applause snapped me out of my daze. I glanced to my side to find Jace standing beside me. The audience was clapping in celebration of our survival.

  “The Legion is counting on you both—on all our soldiers, to step up,” Colonel Fireswift declared, his voice filling the room. “You must all train harder than ever before. This isn’t just about your individual survival. It’s about the survival of the Legion. It’s about the future of the Earth.”

  His speech continued, but I didn’t hear another word because Nero had just stepped into the room.

  His clothes were torn and bloody, but even so, he was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. My heart raced. Rather than not breathing, I was breathing too fast now. I was just so happy to see him, so completely overjoyed that he was alive.

  I rushed forward, crossing the room in a few mere steps. I didn’t care about the whispers from the soldiers in the audience. I stopped right in front of him. Thoughts were buzzing around inside my head, unordered and chaotic. There was so much to tell him, and how did I choose to open? By tripping over my own tongue.

  “You’re covered in blood.”

  “It’s not my own,” he replied, a tormented look in his eyes.

  Nero had seen a lot of horror in our world, but this experience had been so horrific, it had rocked his composure. I didn’t know what else to say to him. Words could not express my sorrow for what he’d been through—o
r my relief at seeing him again.

  “I was so worried I’d lost you,” I whispered.

  He reached out, his hand softly caressing my cheek.

  That did it. I collided with Nero, our bodies crashing together as I kissed him. Into that kiss, I poured my anguish, my relief, my love—everything that had been bottled up since I’d learned what had happened in Memphis.

  He kissed me back, and everything else faded away. It was just Nero. At this moment in time, nothing else in the world mattered.

  22

  Love and War

  When that whirlwind of a kiss stopped, we were standing in a bedroom. Draped in silk and satin, it was a room worthy of an emperor—or an angel. The suite’s highlight was the canopy bed, a triumph of carpentry large enough to comfortably fit four people. Its four wooden posts were as thick as tree trunks and embellished with etchings of scantily-clad angels. Luxurious gold curtains were drawn up over the sides. A footstool with matching gold fabric sat under the windows.

  “You shouldn’t be thinking about the furniture, Pandora,” Nero chided me softly.

  He zipped down the front of his torn leather vest, revealing smooth, soft skin over a hard, sculptured chest. He peeled the torn garment off of his body and tossed it to the floor. Diffused light filtered inside through the gauzy curtains that rippled across the windows, basking his skin in a soft glow.

  I just stood there, mesmerized by his stunning perfection.

  Nero lifted his hand to me, his fingertips a soft whisper as he traced the sensitive spot on my neck. He circled tightly around me, his caress dipping between my shoulder blades to follow the curvature of my spine. His fingers closed on the clasp of my sport top and paused. A soft gasp broke my lips as the bundle of fabric fell to my feet.

  He faced me, his gaze drinking me in from tip to tip. His green eyes lit up with gold and silver sparks, devouring me with the ferocity of a starving man. “Gorgeous.” The word kissed his lips like a lover’s caress.

  The room smelled of vanilla and orange blossoms. The curtains around the bed were rippling in the wind, though the window was closed. It was like magic.

  “It is magic,” Nero told me.

  The magic breeze kissed my skin. It whispered down my arms, cresting my breasts.

  “What are you doing to me?” I gasped, his magic touch igniting the fire in my blood.

  “Magic is very versatile. It can be used to make war…”

  Warmth poured down my bare back like a river of fire, sparking a symphony of sensations.

  “…or to make love.” His voice dipped lower.

  He besieged my body with elemental magic, and I didn’t even try to fight it. I spread open the gates of my magic, inviting him in.

  “Next time, you go off risking your life…you’re taking me with you,” I said, my breaths short and stuttered.

  “You can come with me whenever you like.”

  Heat trickled over my hips, down my thighs, kissing my curves. A desperate ache was building between my legs. I bit my lip, holding back a moan.

  “Don’t ever hold back anything from me,” Nero said, his voice rough with lust.

  I met his gaze and saw my own desire reflected in the embers of his eyes. An intense, relentless desperation took hold of me. I grabbed him, my fingernails digging deep into his back.

  A ruthless, sensual growl rumbled deep in his throat, a promise of dark and sinful fantasies. His hands locking around my hips, he tugged me roughly against him, and my breasts slammed against the hard wall of his chest.

  He met my eyes for a moment, and he declared seriously, “I love you.” Then his mouth closed over mine, ravaging the inside with such savage, insatiable need that it left me breathless.

  His mouth dipped to my neck, teasing my throbbing vein between his incisors. Every flick of his tongue, every nibble of his teeth, fueled my desire, feeding me and making me hungrier all at once.

  I heard the sharp, satisfying pop of his fangs breaking the surface, the burst of pain trailed immediately by a deep, aching desire. My lips found his neck. Too impatient to tease, my fangs penetrated his skin. His blood spilled into my mouth. Hot, spicy, smooth, and as sweet as honey, it slid down my throat, setting my tastebuds on fire. He tasted like Nectar, the food of the gods, a little drop of heaven.

  We drank deeply from each other, our hunger fueled by our passion and fear, by our relief at seeing each other again. I gave all of myself and took all of him in return. His blood burned through my body like a wildfire, consuming me. Ripping apart and rebuilding, burning down and building up—every draw of his mouth sent a shock wave of pleasure crashing and cascading through me.

  A soft, desperate moan parted my lips. “Nero.”

  He tugged the shorts off my hips and my panties along with them.

  “If I’d known magic could be this much fun, I’d have trained mine even harder,” I said.

  He chuckled. “I’ll remind you of your words the next time we train together.”

  “I don’t think that would be appro—”

  His magic crashed over me, drowning me in aching bliss. Desperate for more, I slid my siren magic over him, projecting my desire onto him. Making what was mine—everything I felt—his.

  He froze.

  I paused, cautiously meeting his eyes. Had I broken some unspoken angel rule?

  “Are you all right?”

  “No one has ever dared project their magic onto me.”

  I held my breath.

  “You should dare more often.” He grabbed me by the hips and threw me down onto the bed.

  I looked up at him and saw he was now as naked as I was. His huge, hard body loomed over me, those gorgeous wings spread wide, a stunning canvas of black, green, and blue. The sight of them made me feel so small.

  He grabbed me roughly, flipping me over. As my hands and knees hit the mattress, his hand traced my inner thighs, spreading them. A single finger dipped inside of me, tracing, teasing. Heat surged between my legs, consuming me in a whirlwind of fierce sexual longing. A second finger slipped in. A third. Oh gods, more. I arched my back and tilted my hips back, opening myself up to him. His hand stroked harder, faster, drowning me in hot, slick pleasure.

  Then, suddenly, he pulled away. I growled out a complaint. A gasped moan swallowed my protest as he thrust hard into me.

  “Show me what’s inside of you, Leda,” he said, his breath burning against my neck. “Share everything you feel.”

  I cried out as he took me harder, completing me body and soul. Pleasure pooled between my legs, blossoming, swelling. I shook, tense, balanced on the precipice of release.

  “Please,” I moaned. “Oh, gods, Nero, please.”

  His restraint shattered, unleashing the untamed primal force that lurked beneath the angel armor. I ground myself against him, meeting his rough strokes with desperate fervor. My legs were quivering, a blind searing heat pulsing through me, building and twisting back on itself. I dug my fingers into the sheets, shuddering as my body contracted, exploding in a wave of pure ecstasy.

  “Oh, I missed you so much,” I sobbed out, the aftershocks rocking me.

  I poured out my magic. I shared my feelings, my emotions, my desire—I opened up everything to him, bared myself. It was just me, unfiltered and unshielded. He’d seen me without my clothes, but he’d never truly seen me naked, stripped of everything. I showed him every secret, every dark corner of my mind and soul, giving him all that I had. That was the power of Siren’s Song. There was nothing better than this, nothing more intimate.

  He showed me how wrong I was when his magic hit me like a high-speed train. He’d opened up a window into his soul, just for me and no one else. I experienced the full force of everything that he was, the endless labyrinth of delightful complexity; the torn soul, a firestorm of light and dark, of strength and of fear. And of his love for me, so deep it made me dizzy with desire. I had to have him again.

  And he wanted me. I could feel the intense longing in his emotions,
in the pulse of his body, in the way that he filled me so deeply. He began to move gently inside me, teasing my soft, sensitive flesh swollen with desire.

  His mouth brushed down my neck in soft butterfly kisses. I squirmed impatiently. I didn’t want him to be gentle; I wanted him to release the shackles of propriety and take me hard and rough.

  He flipped me over. Looking down on me, he set his hand over my heart and declared, “Your soul is so beautiful.”

  I met his eyes. “So is yours,” I said solemnly, without smirk or sass.

  He leaned down and kissed my forehead softly. Hot, sweet anticipation swelled inside of me as his hands gently parted my thighs. He gripped my hips and thrust once into me—then he pulled back, his muscles hard and tight as he loomed over me, his eyes alight with dark delight.

  “More,” I moaned, my fingernails digging into his back in wild, feverish desperation. I arched my back, tilting up my hips.

  He slammed me back down on the mattress. His hands locked around my wrists, pinning me to the bed, he plunged deeper into me, each movement forceful and relentless. I cried out, swept up in a blur of pleasure that blinded me to everything but Nero.

  The bed shook and groaned under us. Lust, raw and unbridled, burned in his eyes. He was so close. I wanted to see him lose that last shred of control, for that final thread to snap.

  Blind, savage desire rocking my body, I moved with him, synching to his rhythm. Nero’s shoulders locked up, his muscles tensing as he gripped me tightly, pulling me up to meet him. His whole body shook, and he groaned deeply into my mouth. Like a storm of fire and lightning, ecstasy crashed through me again and again, devouring me.

  When my eyes could focus again, I looked around at the ruins of the bed we lay on. The canopy beams were broken, the bed curtains drooping.

  “We destroyed your beautiful designer emperor bed,” I said, breathless, my heart still pounding hard in my ears.

  “It won’t be the last time,” Nero said with a self-satisfied smirk. “Don’t worry about it.” Yawning lazily, he wrapped his body around mine and held me.