His gaze darted up to mine, and I was met with a set of eyes exactly as he'd just described. Hazel and beautiful. "You get off on bleeding men?"
I laughed and pushed on his chest. "Just keep reading."
Criss cocked his head and did as ordered. "'Why am I not healing?' he asked. Concern laced his words. I stole a peek over my shoulder. The wound was still streaming blood down his perfectly carved chest. 'You were poisoned,' I said. 'I gave you an antidote that saved your life, but it’s going to take some time for the toxins to completely run their course.'"
Criss glanced up at me. "Okay. I get it. There's obviously some sort of a story going on beyond the erotic."
I rolled my eyes. "Obviously."
He flipped several pages ahead and bit his bottom lip. "'Give me a reason to leave,' he whispered. His hands found my hips, and he pulled me closer to him. I shook my head. 'I don’t want you to leave.' Then his mouth was on mine, our tongues tangling in a rush of frantic desire. Desperate, yet thorough. Hard, yet passionate. Our bodies curled together until there was nothing but a flimsy line of fabric between us. 'I thought about this all damn day,' he groaned into my mouth. 'What I wanted to do to you.'"
Criss stopped reading and stared deep into my eyes. The heavy-hanging arousal in the air made the mood extremely tense. I wanted him, but I shouldn't. I was desperate for him, but I couldn't have him.
"I relate to this man so much right now," he muttered, dropping the book to run his hands up and down my spine. "I've thought about this all day. Getting you in my arms, in my lap, kissing you thoroughly. Passionately. Desperately."
Get off his lap, Lex, before you're getting off on his lap.
I knew I couldn't actually kiss Criss, no matter what my body was thinking. Kisses led to touching, and touching led to sex. I couldn't let that happen, not without the consent of my guys. My husbands. Even though Criss was undoubtedly a part of our group—a part of us—we'd just had to wait a little bit longer.
As he leaned in to kiss me, I leaned back and chuckled. "Not yet."
He grinned and nodded, a mix of disappointment and appreciation. "You're better than I thought you were. You just won the bet."
I smacked his chest and climbed out of his lap. "That's right, so you better pay up."
"Hm, what were the terms again?" he asked, feigning amnesia. "I seem to recall there being none."
"They were 'to be determined,' I believe," I said, playing along.
"Ah, yes," he recalled. "Well, in that case—"
Suddenly a loud howl echoed into the night. The sound was melancholic, possibly even pained. I wasn't intimidated by it, but I was definitely curious. Did the poor creature need some help?
"A wolf?" Criss asked.
Then from out of nowhere, it hit me.
Asher! Oh my gods, Ash must've been back and looking for us, and when he saw me with Criss, he must felt dejected. I was suddenly so glad we hadn't taken things further than we did.
Scrambling to my feet, I darted in the direction of the sound. Running in sand was harder than it looked, though, so I made almost no progress before I was once again out of breath.
Criss caught me quickly and jogged at my side. "What the hell are you doing?"
"I think it's Asher," I huffed as I ran. "I think he's back. He must be in wolf form."
Realization and understanding dawned on his face, but to my surprise, instead of becoming crestfallen, he became determined. "Let's find him then."
That's when I knew, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that Criss was one of us.
The closer we got to the sound, the more the truth of the scene unfolded. The howling hadn't been that of a wolf, but rather an injured seal bleeding out on the shore. A bony old man sat at the creature's side, petting it as it wailed in agony.
I paused.
Okay, so it wasn't a wolf. It could still be Asher though. All I had to do was check for a dot on his throat...
"Excuse us?" Criss asked as we drew nearer. "Is there a problem?"
The old man turned around with tears in his eyes. He had a long white beard and a head of thin hair to match. "I'm not as strong as I once was," he admitted, not exactly answering Criss's question.
When we were close enough, I scanned the poor creature's neck but found nothing in the way of a distinctive spot. My hopes sank like an anchor. It wasn't him; it wasn't Ash.
I turned to Criss and shook my head.
He nodded compassionately in return, then directed his attention back to the old man. "Is there anything we can do?"
The old man turned to stare between Chrissen and me. "She has powers," he said matter-of-factly. "You don't. How could you possibly hope to save this seal?"
Criss blinked, momentarily taken aback before he regathered his wits. "I don't believe people need magic in order to help others, sir. I might not be able to fly or move mountains or shoot fire out of my palms, but if you tell me what I need to do, then I can try to help you save this creature."
The old man smiled, and a look of peace and utter contentment passed across his face.
"Perhaps you can help me after all," the old man said, holding out his hand.
Criss hesitated for a moment, then shook the old man's hand in greeting. "I'm Chrissen. Nice to meet you."
"I'm Gare," he said, squeezing Criss's hand with feeble, bony fingers. "I'm so glad I met you too. Please, save the seal."
And right on cue, like a scene from a bad horror novel, the old man's gaze went blank, and he crashed to the ground at our feet, deader than dead.
Chapter 20
"What the fuck is happening?" Criss cried.
I thought maybe he was just being dramatic or asking a rhetorical question at first—I mean, obviously the dude had just kicked the bucket—but when I saw the golden glow of magic gathering above Gare's unmoving chest, I knew immediately what was happening.
Because the same thing had happened to me.
"Oh my gods," I gasped. "A magical dead guy is about to give you his powers!"
"What?" Criss shouted, scrambling backward as the magic orb of energy grew bigger and brighter over Gare's dead body.
Then, with no further warning, it shot through the air and pierced right through Chrissen's chest, dropping him like a fly to the ground.
I stood gaping, surrounded by a dead guy, a dying seal, and a knocked-out, recently-turned-magical Storm. Shocked would not even begin to explain how I felt.
Was this seriously my life?
"Criss!" I hissed, kneeling down to shake him. His body rocked, but he didn't rouse. "Criss, you have to save the seal. It was poor Gare's dying wish."
But still he didn't stir.
"Shit," I muttered aloud. Glancing at Criss's hand, I had a strange idea. Magic was typically instinctual—at least, the magic I'd experienced was. It came out when it was needed whether you coaxed it or not. Near-death situations seemed to be a magical specialty.
Well, the poor seal was definitely near death. A great deal of his blood had already drained from his body and leaked into the sand beneath him.
Criss was a solid five feet away from the creature though, so in order to make it work, I was going to have to drag one or the other. Considering the seal was injured and in pain, it made more sense to not disturb him. Grabbing Criss's hand and forearm, I started tugging. Inch by inch, we made our way closer, until finally his palm reached the seal's side.
I took a labored breath and swiped at my brow. It'd been a while since I did any heavy lifting like that. I almost missed the familiar burn in my muscles. Almost.
I sat down in the sand and waited, but nothing happened. A warm wind blew across the ocean, ruffling my tiny skirt and my hair. I watched as the seal's chest lifted one last time, then fell eerily still. A tear slid down my cheek, and suddenly, I felt incredibly alone.
Still, I couldn't just leave.
I had no idea how long Criss would be passed out or how he'd feel when he came to. Would he remember what happened? Would he be confu
sed? Scared? In pain? Magic manifested in all sorts of different ways, and I had no idea what Criss's would be.
I crawled over to him and curled up next to his chest, forcing my eyes to close.
It was going to be a long night.
I awoke the next morning to the sound of gulls cawing and Chrissen groaning.
My eyes snapped open, and I watched him lean over and prop himself on an elbow, rubbing both eyes with a single hand.
"What happened?" he croaked, prying his eyelids apart with apparent difficulty.
I sat up and glanced at the bodies lying motionless in the sand beside us. "You don't remember?"
Criss blinked a few times before awareness finally crept into his eyes. "Oh my gods. He died." He jabbed at finger at the old guy. "And he somehow gave me his powers. What the fuck kind of powers were they anyway?"
I shook my head. "I have no idea, but it's likely to manifest in a different way than his did. My magical dead guy, Rory, used his fire powers to melt metal and craft weaponry. Me? I got cutesy peach flames that bring on insatiable waves of horniness."
I shrugged, but I could tell the explanation wasn’t enough for Criss.
He rubbed his buzzed brown hair as he thought. "What was he doing here last night? What all did he say?"
I took a deep breath. "He was with the seal. Maybe he was an animal shifter?"
Criss's brows rose. "Like Asher?"
Fuck, it hurt to hear his name and not know whether he was okay or not. "Yeah, like Ash. He also said, 'I'm not as strong as I once was,'" I added.
Criss nodded. "And just before he died, he said 'save the seal.'"
"Yep."
"What if he was a healer?" Criss pondered.
I smiled sadly. "It's possible. But I tried to make you heal the seal last night, and nothing happened."
Criss frowned. "Maybe I needed to be conscious?"
He stood and put both palms on the dead seal's side. "What do I do?"
My eyes went wide as I moved to the seal's other side, staring Chrissen straight in the face. "I have no idea. It took me forever to learn my own power. I do know my magic requires a vocal command unless I'm dying, though."
"So, I just say something out loud to make it happen?" he asked. But before I could answer, he said, "Heal."
Just like the night before, nothing happened.
"Shit," he cursed. "I was really hoping that would work."
"Me too," I said with a sympathetic smile. "But I don't think you can heal dead things. It's probably too late for him now."
Criss sighed. "If that's even what my magic can do."
"Right."
It was definitely frustrating in the beginning stages of magic when you simply didn't know.
"Come on," I said, taking his hand in mine. "We need to get back to town and tell someone about the old man. He deserves a proper burial."
"Yeah," Criss agreed. "And I'll bet the guys are tripping balls right now. We never came back last night. We haven't been back yet this morning. They're either freaking out thinking I killed you, or worse, they're thinking I fucked you."
I laughed, and he squeezed my hand a bit tighter. His skin was warm and rough against mine, strong and protective. I liked holding it more than I cared to admit.
"Hopefully they trust me enough to know I wouldn't do that—not until I have their approval."
His hazel eyes found mine as we walked across the sand. "But do you want to?"
"Does it really matter?" I hedged.
"I think so."
Sighing, I decided to tell him the truth. May as well. He was bound to us. His inclusion in the group dynamic was imminent. It was only a matter of time before that came to fruition in the form of crazy, wild sex. Or so I hoped.
"Yes, okay? I'd very much like to fuck you." There I went my usual grace and tact. "I didn't at first, but the more I get to know you..."
I trailed off. I was saying more than I'd planned to. A simple "yes" would have sufficed. Or hell, a plain old head nod.
"The more you get to know me...?" he prodded, all but begging me to continue.
I took a deep breath. "The more I like you. The more I care about you. The more attracted I become."
He stopped walking and immediately took my face in his warm palms. Some emotion swam in his eyes, making them sparkle. I wasn't about to call it love, but I'd settle with something like affection.
"I feel exactly the same way," he said, before releasing my face and taking my hand once more.
We didn't talk for the rest of the walk into town, but it wasn't an awkward silence by any means. It was more of a contentment, a satisfaction surrounding our togetherness that didn't require words.
After reporting the old man's death and whereabouts to some of the local guards we made the grueling ascent up the cliffside steps. Not gonna lie, I had to stop at least twice to catch my breath and give my burning thighs a break. Fuck cardio, man. It could die a brutal, ugly death.
By the time we made it into the chateau and up yet another flight of stairs, the guys were waiting for us at the top.
Bam! Without any hint of a warning, Rob's fist connected yet again with Chrissen's nose, instantly drawing a river of blood.
"Fuck!" Criss shouted, cradling his face in pain.
"What the hell, Rob?" I shouted, stomping closer until I was all up in his shit. "You agreed to let him take me on a date!"
"But not to keep you out all night!" he shouted back. "Not to fuck you! We have rules, Jewels! And I thought we had loyalty and commitment!"
I pushed his chest. "We do, you moronic caveman! He didn't fuck me last night!"
"Then why didn't you come back? Why'd you spend the night with him?"
"Because he got powers from a magical dead guy!" I cried. "He was passed the fuck out on the beach, and I didn't want to just leave him there, so I stayed!"
"Is that true?" Rob demanded, shooting Chrissen a glare just before his mouth fell open. "Your nose..."
I turned toward Criss too, stunned to find the blood had not only stopped flowing, but it had faded away completely. There was no evidence of the wound whatsoever. Not on his face, his hands, the floor, or anywhere.
"You were right," I said, gaping. "It's healing magic. How do you feel?"
He blinked and slowly shook his head. "Just a little tired."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Cal said, intervening. "Start from the beginning, please. Tell us everything."
Criss glared at Rob. "Can I get a word in edgewise before being clocked in the face for shit I didn’t do this time?"
"You might not have fucked her," Rob acknowledged, "but did you kiss her?"
Criss shook his head. "She wouldn't let me."
Rob had the decency to look uncomfortable for once. He sighed and ran both hands through his dark hair. "Sorry, Jewels. I overreacted and made unfair assumptions. Can you forgive me?"
"Maybe in a few minutes," I growled, still irritated that he'd accused me of cheating.
Cal took a deep breath and let it out slowly, glancing between me and Chrissen, then across every other solemn face in the room.
"We need to have a chat."
But there wasn't time for one.
Suddenly, a servant rushed up the stairs with a pink face and a heaving chest. Clearly the man had been running.
"Edden, what's wrong?" Dan asked. He stepped closer and grabbed the servant by his shoulders, meeting him at eye level. "Is it the war?"
Edden shook his head quickly. "No, Your Highness. At least, I don't believe so. But a Timberlune entourage has just arrived, and Princess Bria is demanding to speak to you all."
"Oh, fuck," I muttered as my heart lodged in my throat. "I guess we're about to get our reply in person."
Dan pinched the bridge of his nose. "Send her up, Edden. We'll be in the fourth council room."
"Uh—" I began to protest.
But Dan quickly righted his wrong. "The third council room."
Everyone knew I had a thing against even
numbers. Thankfully, it amused them enough that they went along with it. Or maybe they just loved me enough? Either way, I was incredibly grateful. Even numbers made my damn skin crawl.
As Edden bowed and rushed back downstairs, Dan led us into the appropriate room. It was a square space with a giant square table in the center made of foot-thick dark wood. Four chairs sat on each side—four, four, four, four, gross! Why not fives? Or threes? Ugh, but they'd already gone out of their way to accommodate me once, so I didn't comment and make a nuisance out of myself. I'd just have to grin and bear it.
Cal, Dan, Ben, and Rob took the far end, so Criss and I each took a side closest to them. Bria and her entourage would have the entire opposite side of the table. Hopefully she hadn't brought more than nine others, or they'd be either standing or waiting in the hall.
Cal leaned forward and looked at Criss. "Just like we talked about."
Criss nodded. When I shot him a curious glance, he freaking winked at me. My gods, the last thing I needed was another sexy winker making my panties melt.
A few moments later, Edden stepped into the room, huffing and puffing. "Her Highness... Princess... Bria."
Bria stormed in with a deadly glare on her face. A line of guards filtered in after her, flanking her everywhere except for the front.
"Bria, welcome," Dan said cordially. "Please sit."
Surprisingly, she did as asked. Two guards sat down on either of her sides, while the others stood in a line behind her.
Dan smiled. "I must admit, I'm rather surprised to see you here. I'd assumed you'd simply reply to our letter with another letter."
"I burned your letter," she said matter-of-factly. "I came against the better judgement of my advisors and guards, simply because I wanted to give you Blackwood bastards a piece of my mind."
Dan held out both hands before lacing his fingers beneath his chin. "By all means. We're prepared to listen to whatever you have to say."
She drummed her pale pink nails on the table. "I trusted you. You made a promise to me. A promise to help save my people and my kingdom, and what did you do? Instead of helping us keep our magic, you cut it off completely. You're nothing but promise-breakers and filthy backstabbers. Our kingdom is weak and dying, and it's all your fault. Of course, I understand now that that was your exact intention. So, I've actually come to congratulate you."
Storm Chaser (Storms of Blackwood Book 3) Page 16