Soul Magic

by Jennifer Lyon

  She shifted on her small feet, looking uncomfortable. “Yes, I wanted to make sure you’d be safe while I heal you.”

  Shock rushed him, and he was at a loss for words. It didn’t make sense. He was supposed to be protecting her. She had Darcy set a salt circle to protect him?

  She moved to his side, her hair brushing across his back, and sliding over the tattoo. The eagle shuffled and preened, liking that. Then she put her hand on the small of his back. “Come sit on the edge of the tub and you can lean back against the tile. You’re not feeling the curse, right?”

  Hell, no, he was feeling confusion. The touch of her hand was branding his skin. He let her push him to the tub and he sat, bringing him eye level with her breasts. His mouth dried up as he watched her sway and bob as she moved, those dark nipples so close. Her scent filled his nostrils. He clenched his fists as the cold tile did nothing to ease the ache in his balls. “You don’t have to do this.”

  She fixed her gaze on him. “I want to. You’re going to let me.”

  His cock jumped at her demand. Damn she was sexy when she was bossing him around. “I am?” He sucked in a sharp breath when she placed both her hands on the sides of his face. The burns went poker-hot at the contact, making him hiss. They cooled in seconds, and he could almost feel the dead layers peeling off and new skin growing.

  Amazed, he realized she really was healing him.

  She pushed his head back to rest against the cool wall and said in a soft voice, “Close your eyes. I need to do this. It hurts me to see you in pain, it makes my chakras ache.”

  He’d never felt anything like this, the sensation of her taking care of him. He almost didn’t want it to end. He wanted her hands on him, needed her touch. Her powers swirled around him, and the eagle seemed to stretch his feathers, wanting to bask in the feel of her Arabian coffee–scented witchcraft. It felt like pure energy lighting up his insides and sparkling against his skin. She slid her hands down his neck and over his shoulders. Same thing—the skin sizzled at contact, then cooled and healed, while her powers shivered through him. The sensation traveled down his arms, to his hands.

  The eagle stopped spreading and preening, and froze.

  He ignored the tattoo. Her hands sloped over his pectorals. He hissed again, the shock of pain fading instantly into cool relief. Caring. It was like being cared for. This was what it felt like?

  The tattoo ripped a talon across his back. “Hey!” He snapped open his eyes, jerking his back off the wall.

  Carla had dropped to her knees and her hands were on his abdomen. Her beautiful hair curtained her face but her scent was wrong.

  He smelled sweat and the sour scent of pain. His tattoo was trying to rip a hole in his back to get out, the bird screeching in his head. He ignored it, lifted a hand, and pushed back Carla’s hair.

  Her face … Oh, Jesus … her skin was clammy and pale. Her witch-shimmer looked like red holes were burning through the beautiful silver. She was taking his pain! Her hands trembled against his stomach. “Stop! Goddamnit, stop!”

  She flinched, her hands slipping off him. “What?”

  Her hazel eyes were swimming in yellow pain. He couldn’t believe this. “What is wrong with you!”

  She sank back on her heels, her hands twisting in her lap as she panted.

  The eagle took another searing swipe of his back, letting him know he was an asshole. He leaned down, scooping her up and bringing her to his chest. “God, baby, I’m sorry I yelled at you.” Desperation clogged his throat and he barely got the words out. “Tell me what to do, how to stop your pain.”

  “Not finished.”

  Her whole body was trembling. He had to think, but he didn’t know enough about witches. How did he help her? Damn it, they were on the astral plane, he couldn’t exactly call Darcy and ask her. He didn’t have herbs. Hell, he wouldn’t know what to do with an herb. He looked around the bathroom, frantically trying to find something …

  The tub. Water. Water was the second chakra. Earth elements were essential to witches, so water might help her. He reached out to turn on the tub, but the controls didn’t work. They didn’t turn on. “Carla.” He leaned back, put his hand on her face. “Carla, look at me.”

  She opened her eyes. “I can finish now. I’m fine.”

  No way. But he wasn’t about to challenge her and make her feel like he didn’t appreciate what she’d done for him. She cared enough about him to take his pain. He couldn’t even think about that until he took care of her. Instead, he tried to reassure her. “You healed me. Can you fill the bath? Turn on the jets?” The rules on the astral plane were different. He could move around, and God knows he could feel, but he needed Carla’s magic to turn on the water.

  Her brows knitted. “I can feel your pain.”

  He gave her the partial truth and hoped it would satisfy her. “Because my eagle tattoo tried to dig out of my back when he realized you were hurting. He’s protecting you. Can you fill the tub? It’ll make him feel better if we take care of you.”

  The water turned on full force. Seconds later the jets started to pulse and stir the water. He rose with her in his arms, stepped over the edge into the half-filled tub, and sat down.

  She tried to sit up. “I need to look and make sure you’re healed.”

  The swirling hot water made the remaining burns at the base of his stomach feel like someone was skinning him layer by layer. To keep her from seeing, he put his hand on the back of her head and pressed her into his chest. “Let the water take the pain away from you.” He watched as her hair floated on the rising water. Having her in his arms, just being able to be skin to skin with Carla, filled him with a warm rich feeling he couldn’t identify.

  She had healed him. Taken his pain.

  “What about your back?”

  He smiled at that. “The eagle is happy now.” The tattoo was trying to burrow deeper, like he could crawl through Sutton’s back to his chest to touch Carla. Hell, he couldn’t blame the bird; he’d crawl through anything to touch and hold her.

  She pushed back against his hand cupping her head to look up at him. “He’s real to you?”

  The water was working, fading the red holes in her shimmer. His chest eased at the sight. “Yes.”

  She turned to glance at the spigot and the water turned off. Then she shifted her gaze back to him, put her hand on his shoulder, then brushed lightly down to stroke the tattoo.

  “Feathers. He’s soft.”

  The tattoo was quivering and all but dancing in his skin. Her touch sent lightning strikes of lust through his balls, and his dick twitched hard in the water.

  Her witch-shimmer cleared of all the pain, and brightened to a stunning silver that began to dust with specks of rich gold. Even with the water, he smelled her desire. Her pleasure in stroking his tat was just one of the sexy things about her. He loved watching her.

  Her eyes were brimming with her powers. “He feels real to me, too.”

  “He’s yours, Carly.”

  She shivered in his arms. “Keri told me to bring you here and heal you.”

  He looked into her eyes while she explained her encounter with her sister. Brushing his fingers over the soft skin of her face, he said, “She sent you to me, baby.” He leaned down and brushed his mouth over her full lips. Her taste was like nothing else, warm and slightly sweet, slightly tangy. It filled his mouth and rushed over the back of his tongue, making him want more. He sank into her mouth.

  She tightened her hand on the eagle, and slid her tongue against his.

  He wanted more of her. He wanted to know what made her moan, what made her sigh, and what would reach deep inside her and wrap around her heart as she had captured his. He’d never had a woman care for him like she had when she healed him. She hadn’t even minded touching his burns and cuts. And now, holy God, her small hands were digging into his shoulders as she gave her mouth to him. He lifted his mouth.

  She opened her eyes, her head angled back over his left arm. “
What?”

  “I want to touch you.” He drew his fingers over her jaw into the hollow of her neck.

  She shivered, her witch-shimmer picking up more gold.

  He watched his hand trailing over her clavicle bone, riding the slope of her breast. The gold flakes in her shimmer spun around his fingers like dust motes in the sun.

  He was touching her magic.

  His stomach twisted with the need to slide deep into her body and feel the very core of her. He drew his fingers over her pebbled nipple, and felt the reaction jolt through her body. He cradled the weight of her breast in his palm and drew in a breath, reminding himself of the promise he’d made that they wouldn’t seal their soul-mirror connection.

  But he could touch her, fill her with pleasure. He moved his hand down her belly, soft and white, then spread his hand out, covering the slope and dipping his thumb down into her pubic hair.

  She lifted her gaze. “We—”

  The colors of her hazel eyes were blurred with need. His heart pounded and his blood raced. He could fulfill that need. He would. “Trust me. Like I trusted you to heal me. Lift your legs, and rest them on the side of the tub.” Carla hadn’t yet shown any embarrassment or shame about her body. She had no reason to, she was his perfect golden witch. His heart was thudding louder than the jets pulsing around them. He could barely get his breath and his mouth was bone-dry when he added, “And spread them open for me.” His balls were tightening up at the mere thought of her spread open so he could see her. Touch her.

  The colors in her eyes swam in need. Her belly constricted beneath his palm as she lifted her legs, draping them over the side of the big Jacuzzi tub.

  He looked down her long white legs, shimmering with gold. He recognized the gold as her lust, her need, her beauty she was showing only to him. Christ, he wanted to drag his tongue over every golden inch of her until he got to her center, when he’d lap at her until she shattered, and then he’d keep licking her until he could make himself stop. Maybe for hours. Days.

  Slow down. He knew she hadn’t given her body to anyone in a couple years. To him, it was more than her body, she was sharing her very essence with her trust. She believed in him, knew he wouldn’t seal their bond by lifting her up, spreading her thighs, and pressing her down onto his rigid cock. Jesus, he wanted to feel her slick and tight around him, he craved the joining that would bind their souls. But it would cost her too much by breaking her bond with her sister. Instead, he lifted his hand from her stomach and placed it on her right thigh, the one closest to him. He’d take his joy in stroking her until she came apart for him.

  He felt the muscle in her thigh clench. He watched as she spread her legs open and let her thighs fall apart.

  His dick twitched, his balls seized up. He didn’t care. He shifted his gaze to her. To that triangle of blond hair at the junction of her thighs. He trailed his hand up her thigh, watching as his large, dark fingers slipped into her hair.

  She made a mewling noise of desire in her throat.

  Letting his hand rest so that his middle finger was pressing on her seam, he looked at her face. Her eyes were closed, her mouth open, and her breasts were rising and falling in a beat he recognized. “You want me to touch you, Carly.” He needed a response from her, needed to know she wanted this, too.

  “Please,” she said, her hips rising against his hand.

  He parted her hair, and then her folds, and found her slick and warm. Exploring her, he traced her tender flesh, circling the entrance to her body, and he shivered as he felt tiny pulses trying to draw him in. She shifted against him, her body arching in a wordless plea.

  Not yet.

  It was like he’d waited his whole life to stroke his witch. Every time he’d seen her on the physical plane, he’d longed to touch her. Learn her. Now he would. Sliding his hand back up, he discovered her little clitoris. He had to see, and leaning over he had a perfect view of her wet pink flesh just beneath the waterline of the tub. He stroked her clit and watched as each touch swelled it and infused it with a gold color.

  Lust thudded in his ears.

  He wanted more. Curling his left arm tighter around her back, he brought Carla closer into his chest so he could feel the heat blooming on her skin.

  Then he watched as he slid a finger into her body. How much could she take of him? Her body was hot and wet, and sucking him in. Sweat broke out on his forehead as his finger slid in up to the first knuckle.

  Then the second.

  Carla was breathing hard, her hips rising to take more.

  He could barely breathe as he fed her as much of his finger as she could take until he could almost touch her womb.

  “Sutton!” She grabbed on to his wrist with both hands, her fingers digging into his skin. “Too much.”

  He froze, and started to pull his hand away from her. But when he looked at her face, he saw the intense green in her eyes. Her slick walls began to pulse around his finger and her body threw off more gold into her witch-shimmer. And most telling of all, his eagle quivered in excitement, not anger.

  “No,” she panted. “Not hurting. Too much. Can’t control it.”

  Her powers squeezed harder, causing her body to buck and thrash, splashing water around them.

  He saw her eyes fill with tears as she thrust against his hand, and he understood what was happening. Her powers were surging up and filling her, trying to reach out to him to pull him in. They were reacting to the soul-mirror connection. Another wave of raw power undulated through her. He could almost feel the brutal ache for relief inside of her. An orgasm would release some of the energy pulsing in her.

  Sutton leaned over her, feeling a wave of tenderness that nearly left him breathless. He brushed his mouth over her wet cheeks. Using his thumb, he stroked her clit, reveling in the wet flesh infused with her magic. In soft words, he said, “You don’t need to be in control, my beautiful, golden witch.” He began to stroke her, sliding his finger in and out of her while keeping that feathering touch on her clit. “I can feel your powers sucking me in, deeper and deeper.” He shuddered, letting her feel his desire for her.

  More power undulated through her and clamped around his finger. She arched up, desperate for relief.

  Sutton licked his way over her jaw, and nuzzled into the hollow of her neck. He couldn’t get enough of her, and damn it, he wanted to bury his face between her legs and devour her, but she needed release now. He’d taste her clit and tongue the entrance to her body later. Instead he dragged his tongue over her breast, and then told her, “I can taste your power.” His voice was rough with pounding hunger for her. He latched on to her nipple, filling his mouth with her. His tenderness gave way to raw passion. He sucked her as he pistoned his finger as far as she could take him, withdrew, and did it again until he had her bucking and making deep-throated, unbearably sexy noises.

  His hips were slapping against the soft flesh of her hip, his cock desperate for her. He didn’t care, didn’t hold back. He was demanding Carla lose control with him, so he could lose control with her.

  “Oh!” she cried, and letting go of his wrist, she reached up and cradled his head, holding him to her breast. He could feel her body tightening and racing toward completion. He pressed the heel of his hand to her clit and pumped his finger in the rhythm that made her whole body tremble. She was so close and so fucking beautiful. He growled against her nipple.

  She slammed her hips into him, her body beginning to crest.

  No! Mine! a voice screamed.

  Not Carla. It wasn’t Carla! The instinct to protect her burst inside of him. Sutton reacted at hyperspeed, releasing her nipple from his mouth, easing his hand from her body. Then he jerked her up into his arms, got up on his knees and turned, dropping her on the back corner edge of the black marble tub and turned to block her with his body.

  He didn’t see anything in the bathroom, didn’t know where the hell the threat was coming from. He looked back at Carla. “Is it Asmodeus? Did he get through the salt
circle?”

  Carla couldn’t gather her thoughts. Another sharp pain sliced through her head. Sutton had shoved her onto the edge of the tub and blocked her as if he could protect her.

  But the threat was inside her head. From her own sister.

  “It’s not Asmodeus.” It’s worse, she thought, as the cold weight of guilt and shame settled over her, escalating her sudden headache. Her voice sounded as tortured as she felt. “It’s Keri.”

  He looked back over his shoulder, the eagle earring in his left ear catching the light. His pupils were still large, but instead of darkening his eyes to sexy midnight blue, now they looked menacing. “I only heard two words. What’s she saying now?”

  My soul mirror! Keri continued to screech inside her head, making her eyes burn. Carla summed it up for him. “She’s saying that I’m letting Pam die. That I’m trying to steal her soul mirror. That I’m letting her die so I can have you.”

  Furious, he said, “I thought Keri loved you. Why would she … wait, something is wrong.” His eyes calmed as he thought.

  “What?”

  “It’s not her. Carla, think! First off, Keri told you to take me to the astral plane. And Keri doesn’t call me her soul mirror, she calls me Eagle, like it’s my name. Remember in the last vision when I told her we’d find her? She addressed me as Eagle, not by my name. Baby, try touching my tattoo.”

  Carla lowered her gaze and saw the bird watching her. She moved her hand from her temple to lay it on his back. Instantly, the headache eased and the warm feathers felt like they were folding around her hand. She had the sensation of the bird trying to push his head into her palm and nuzzle her. “He’s moving. Touching me.”

  He kept watching her over his shoulder. “Can you still hear Keri?”

  The voice was gone. “No. Just a headache now. What’s happening?”