Still on the landing, Meriel looked like an angry goddess, one arm out, her magick swam past him like a guided missile.
Nell ran around where Dominic managed to choke the thug out and onto his knees. He knew just how long to hold, watched as unconsciousness began to take hold.
“Out,” he whispered and then the man went limp.
Shit. He’d just knocked the guy out with his magick?
Dominic saw Meriel moving toward him. Knew he was yelling at her to get the fuck back. He could only hear the drumming of his heart and briefly wondered if he was having a stroke.
She touched him and spoke, her lips against his temple and the pain was gone. The furious pain of those claws in his gut were gone.
“Get out of here. The mages are here,” he heard himself ordering her some moments later.
“No, they’re gone.” She kissed his knuckles, whispered over them and the throb of the abraded skin eased back.
“It’s not safe. The cops—”
“Are
so
not coming.” Simon heaved himself to stand and then gently helped Meriel up and finally Dominic. “So much magick out here they won’t see or hear a fucking thing. Want to fill me in on what the hell just happened?”
And then Dominic threw up.
MERIEL
unbuttoned his shirt and tried not to wince at the bloom of a bruise over his left side.
Everyone had gone, leaving them alone at his apartment where she’d finally allowed herself to take a good look at the damage he’d sustained. He’d refused a doctor so he’d have to deal with the best she could do.
“I felt it.” She allowed herself those three words as she gently pulled his shirt free and examined his back. He had an abrasion across his shoulders. “Hold on. You’ve got asphalt in there. Gravel. I have to clean it out.”
“There’s no magickal spell to do this?”
“You were siphoned.” She said this as she stood behind him, not wanting him to see her face. Not wanting him to see how scared she was.
“What do you mean siphoned?” He hissed just a bit when she used the alcohol.
“I mean they took some of your magickal energy. That’s very hard on you. A bruise will heal and I can help that along a little. This ugly thing on your back will heal, though it’s going to hurt when I clean it out. I’ll use a spell to numb it a little. I’ll get you cleaned up and taken care of. And then I’m going to use the font to replace what you’ve lost.”
“Is it permanent?”
She breathed out carefully and put her head on his uninjured shoulder for a moment.
He reached up to run his fingers through her hair and she shoved away any thoughts about what might have happened far, far away.
“No. You’re probably going to have a headache for a while, but your stores will fill again. Our bond has stabilized that, closed the wound. No, not wound. Not in the sense of this on your back.” She used a spell to numb his skin and muscle as she’d promised and began to clean him up to keep busy and from freaking out.
“So tell me about it. It’ll keep us both calm.” He put a hand on her thigh as she worked. “And thanks for whatever you did. Just now and back at the club.”
She’d felt the spike in his magick, had known there was trouble and when he didn’t pick up, she ended up running the seven blocks to Heart of Darkness from where she’d been. Nell had been in the building with Gage and they’d seen her dart to the elevators and had come along.
Never had she been so scared.
“You didn’t need me. How many did you take out on your own?” She poked just a little too hard and felt bad when he winced.
He’d told them the story of how he’d seen the guy on the loading dock at the back doors and had gone out only to get hit by a magical attack.
“I don’t know. There weren’t that many.”
She should have felt shame for how she’d taken him in, a full rage, fists flying, shirt torn open and bloody. She’d looked and wanted to lick him. So bad and wrong, but he was so masculine and
rawr
.
“You would have taken the mage on your own, you know. Though I shouldn’t tell you because hello, how dare you have done that and endangered yourself!”
She heard the sob in her voice and it mortified her.
He turned, taking her hands after he’d made her put the tweezers down. “I’m sorry you were worried. But I’m here, and reasonably healthy apparently. I can handle my shit. It’s just I didn’t know much about the magick siphoning thing. Was that the clawing in my head? The oily magic?”
“Yes. I’m told that’s what it feels like.”
“Hurt enough to make me puke. Been a while since I’ve thrown up after a fight. Especially when I wasn’t even drunk.” He kissed the frown on her mouth. “I can handle a dustup. I’ve done things in my past I may not always be proud of, but it left me with the ability to fuck someone’s shit up. I can protect myself and you too.” He looked at her features for long moments. “And I will. What if it had been you instead of me? Damn it, I keep playing it over and over in my head.”
If he kept this up, she’d cry for real. “Turn around so I can finish.”
The left corner of his mouth twitched and he finally gave her a small smile before turning. “Explain it to me. What happens with this siphoning stuff. We’ll both feel better when you do.”
“When a mage steals magick, it tears apart your internal shields and makes a wound of sorts, like an ugly tear in the veins your magick travels through. It’s not actually veins, but that’s the easiest way to think on it.”
He shuddered a little and she leaned in to kiss the back of his neck.
“A mage can drain you because the energies they use are … different than what we do. Our magick is natural, it works in certain, reliable ways. There are limits on what we can do, but our ability to do it is inborn.”
“What do I need to do to stop it?”
“Funny you should ask, but Nell’s been in contact with a witch who lives in Boston. She’s working on some defensive magicks from across several practice paths, and she’s going to work with Rodas Clan to teach their witches and then it’ll move outward. Nell is sending Gage to be trained along with a few others and he’ll come back here and do our trainings.”
Her hands shook and she forced herself to concentrate on the wound instead of how he could have been kidnapped or tortured and murdered like some of the others.
“What’s a practice path?”
“Clan witches practice a certain sort of magick. Sometimes that differs from place to place or clan to clan. Then you’ve got others who do things differently. There are a great many witches who use blood in their warding and some of their spellwork.”
She angled the nearby desk lamp to check his back once more. “You’re good. Gage left some stuff his mother made. She’s a medical doctor and a magickal healer of sorts. Anyway, he uses it on his bruises.” She held up the jar of bright green goo.
“I want to shower. And you need to come with me. You know, just in case I need help.”
She rolled her eyes, but felt better.
“Sit.” She pointed at a chair and then began to bustle around, gathering clothes and towels and getting everything ready. “Anyway, a practice path is how a witch accesses her power. But as you can imagine, there’s lots of snobbery and infighting about it. So and so thinks she’s better because she uses magic a certain way and you don’t so you’re inferior. Essentially we’ve lost what makes us all strong. Our ability to use our magicks in many ways for different circumstances.”
She turned the water on and let it heat a moment as she walked back into the bedroom and saw him there, sitting, bruised and bloody and so unbelievably sexy it halted her steps.
“If we knew about each other’s magick, we’d have a lot more defenses against these mages.”
She nodded, moving to him again. “Exactly. Divided we’re weak. This is magick we’re talking about. A witch is a witch as long as she doesn’t break the basic creed about not harming but for self-defense. These mages don’t care what practice path the witches their hurting use. But they’re going to expect a certain response from certain witches. I say we mess that up. If I know how other witches would react that only adds to my ability to fight back. We have to fight back.”
“I agree. But you’re distracting me now and I might need some help with my pants.”
She went to her knees as he stood and the look on his face shot straight to her clit. Gaze on his, she reached up and unzipped his pants.
“I’m suddenly feeling a lot better, but now that I’ve got no blood above my waist, a little dizzy.”
She pulled his pants and his boxers off and stood, but not before she placed a kiss on the head of his cock. “Later for that. Now come on. You need to shower so I can put the bruise goo on you.”
He followed her into the bathroom and she then found herself in the shower stall, her back pressed against the cool tiles. “I’ve got some goo for you too.”
It didn’t do to show him how much he amused her. It would only make him think it was acceptable. But he did.
“Stop that.”
His body was so close as her clothes got soaked. He made very quick work of them, leaving her as naked as he. And her shaking now had nothing to do with fear.
“You should get cleaned up.”
“You’re talking, baby, but not saying anything.” He spoke, his lips against hers and she melted into him. She was so easy for this man. She laughed, not meaning to, but glad for it.
“Have you noticed how much time you spend getting me against walls and laying down on things?”
He laughed before drawing her back under the spray. “It’s biological. If I can hem you in, I know I can talk my way past any of your excuses and right into your panties.”
He underlined this by tracing his fingertips downward, over the seam of her pussy, teasing her open.
She gulped. “Seems to me, you’re already there.”
“I need in you.” Her nipped her bottom lip.
“Yes.”
He eased back, squirting some of his soap into his palm. “After I get you all clean.”
He was the one who needed it. But she let him touch her, let his slick hands rove over the whole of her. She gave herself to him and he took. A circuit of energy clicked between them, heating, enticing, their attraction humming against skin where he slid over her with a covetous touch.
Around those hands, she gently soaped the blood away. Careful with the bruises, she skimmed over his hurts.
His lips brushed against her cheek and then to her mouth. He took her in a kiss that stole her breath. His tongue swept past the seam of her lips.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” she whispered as he lifted her up and positioned her just where he wanted. “Don’t strain yourself or you’ll need stitches.”
“I need you so much it’ll hurt if I can’t have you,” he said as he circled her gate with the head of his cock.
It wasn’t that she disagreed with his aims in this.
Before she could re-inquire about his bruises, he’d lifted her a little more and began to work his way inside.
And then she wasn’t sure she could have remembered the words to make him careful with himself. As it was every time he touched her, she melted into him, seeking more, needing everything he wanted to give.
So hot and tight.
Dominic held the most precious thing in his world as he pressed in a little more with each thrust. He fought hard against instincts that made him want to rut. Made him want to plunge into her all the way and fuck her until they were both sated. Fuck her until the fear had gone and the panic over her safety went away.
But just then he wanted to savor all the more. He wanted to take her slowly and enjoy the tautening of their desire, that gradual build to an amazing climax. If he could hold back that part of him that wanted to own her every minute and whispered, harder, harder, more.
He knew she held back; that knowledge only made him want her more.
“Don’t you dare hold back with me,” he said as he kissed across her collarbone. Salt mixing with the water from the shower.
“You just got into a fistfight with four, no, five men, two of whom wanted to steal your magick and kill you and the other three who just wanted to kill you.”
He heard the fear in her voice and stopped, forehead to forehead with her.
“I’m here. You’re here. Let me love you.”
She nodded, tears in her eyes.
He pushed in that last bit, throbbing as her inner walls embraced him.
He pressed in deep and pulled out, over and over. She kissed up his neck, stopping to nip his ear and whisper, “You feel so good in me.”
Her nipples slid across his chest, slick, hard. She made small, rough sounds of need, his pretty, button-down woman. She snarled if he slowed down too much, urged him on as he kept her positioned just the way he wanted.
“You first.” He kissed along her jawline. Getting one hand free, he took her wrist and put her fingers where she’d need them. “Come all around me.”