BloodSworn (16 page)

“I can’t just not show up for my job. Chuck would worry.”

“Chuck?” The ominous way he spoke gave her pause, part of
her anger dissipating when his very green eyes turn golden. “Who the hell is
Chuck?”

Trina licked her lips, uncertain why she was so nervous. She
tightened her hold on her bag, but didn’t back down. If she caved now, her
sister was as good as dead. “My boss.”

Merrick inhaled, and she hadn’t realized how much he’d
beefed up at the mention of another man’s name. She was starting to think he
was more dangerous to her than any outside threat.

Maybe her magic was right.

The air around him seemed denser. When she squinted, she’d
swear she saw his outline shimmer.

In shape of a massive lion.

She couldn’t take her eyes off the misty beast. She raised
her arm, half-expecting her hands to pass clear through the thing. Instead, she
met resistance. The air rumbled under hand, almost like the beast was purring.

Startled, she stopped stroking him, and the nose bumped her arm,
seeking attention. Soft fur brushed under her palm. She reached up to touch the
fluffy mane of hair. Instead, the fur was stiff, coarse and so thick that her
fingers couldn’t pass through. The purr was more of a rumbling, and she found
herself charmed by it despite herself.

Fangs the size of her fingers peeked out between his lips,
but she felt no fear from the large pussycat. He wanted to play. A big tongue flicked
out and licked her. She jumped at the texture and laughed. 

“Can you feel that?” When she looked up, Merrick’s golden
eyes were locked on hers. She nearly swallowed her tongue, arrested by the raw
desire.

For her.

She tore her gaze away, her face heating, only to pull up
short to see Weston’s wolf. She reached out to the gray timber wolf.

But quickly jerked back at Merrick’s growl.

Weston, himself, flinched in a way you’d think she’d grabbed
his balls and given them a vicious twist. He inhaled deeply, and the wolf
vanished. “You have to turn off your magic.”

Trina blinked. “I’m not using magic.”

He only became more insistent. “You can see our animals.
It’s a rare talent, a skill only a few witches every generation develop, but
it’s very dangerous to touch the animal’s core. Animals are unpredictable
creatures.”

The lion butted at her hand, tempting her to linger and play.
Distracting her. “What do you mean by dangerous?” The lion didn’t feel dangerous
at all. She loved the warmth of him under her hand.

“You are seeing overlapping existences, the real world and
the magical plane. If you become too steeped in magic, it will consume the real
world.” Weston glanced at Merrick, and the lion under her palm growled in
protest. “You must turn it off.”

Some of his urgency pierced her wonderment. The magic wasn’t
her normal blood magic. It was like the spell from the lunchroom, only much
stronger. She had no clue how to shut it down. “How?”

“Think of magic as air. Every time you breathe, you bring
more of it in your body.”

She gawked at him wide-eyed. “So I’m supposed to stop breathing?”

Weston stared at her in his intense way, ignoring her comment.
“Inhale like through a mask, take in the air while filtering out the magic.”

He made it sound so simple, but magic saturated the room, the
sparkles dancing like dust motes. Instead of floating to the ground, the magic
wafted toward her on a breeze she could almost feel.

The tiny particles were beautiful. A small spark landed on
her arm and melted like a snowflake. Her skin eagerly soaked it up as if
starved for a taste. The light touch brushed sensually against her, tempting
her to pull more down. Then pleasure turned to pain as it tore through her
bindings, burning her in retaliation.

“Trina.” The bark in Weston’s voice caused her to blink.

“I didn’t summon it. I have no idea why the magic is here.”

“Magic is attracted to magic. If you can’t turn it off, it
will only continue to build.”

And become more painful.

Merrick shifted, and she saw the magic fall over his lion
form, landing on the amorphous shape. At the contact, the particle flashed, and
the image of his form sharpened for a few seconds until the magic was spent.

The magic reacted to Weston differently. Like dandelion
fluff, it brushed lightly over him, only to sail away, leaving him unaffected.

She needed more than a mask, she needed a shield. Her
medical training kicked in. What better protection than what centuries of
evolution had manufactured. Trina called upon the magic in her blood and pulled
it up through her body to wrap over the epidermis, letting it coat her skin.  

The next drop of magic fell on her arm before rolling off like
a small grain of sand. The sting on her skin eased as if soothed by a cool pad.
She thickened the coating, ignoring the way the muscles of her stomach trembled
in protest at using magic to fight magic.

When she looked about the room, everything appeared dimmer.
No more sparks, no more urge to gather all the shiny mess toward her. She peered
at Merrick, disappointed to see the lion had vanished.

“It worked.” Her words were a croak, and she winced at the
dryness in her throat. What felt like hours had only been a few minutes. If she
didn’t know better, she’d swear she’d come down with the flu in the last five
minutes. Her body ached, and her head felt twice the normal size.

Her legs wobbled alarmingly, and the room tilted like a mad
tilt-o-whirl gone terribly wrong. Merrick leapt toward her, guiding her to the
nearest chair.

“Sit.”

His big mitt pushed at the back of her neck, shoving her
head between her knees. She had no choice but to obey or end up sprawled on the
floor.

She searched the bindings and found them looser than they had
been the day before, held together with dental floss and toothpicks. Her magic
was still secure.

For now.

But for how much longer?

If she called upon her magic one more time, the bindings could
very well break.

 
Chapter Eighteen

L
ike
her own knight in furry armor, Merrick scooped her up in her arms.

“Your back.”

“You weigh no more than a wet kit.”

Indeed, he didn’t strain under her weight, but it was also a
blow to be compared to a scrawny kid. She pushed away the sting of his words,
battling the darkness that threatened to consume her.

She had to tell him about the virus, but the details were
fuzzy, slipping in and out of her thoughts. Tomorrow would be soon enough.

The safety of his arms allowed her to lower her guard. The steady
beat of his heart beneath her head lulled her, whispering for her to let go,
that Merrick would protect her.

Trina woke when the mattress touched her back, or maybe it
was the lack of Merrick’s arms around her. She instantly missed his warmth.

She struggled to sit, cursing the darkness, but wondered if she
should be thanking it. If she could see, she would know where he stood and
would be all the more tempted to pull him into bed with her. “We need to work
on your back.”

Back, not front, she reminded herself.

“You’re exhausted. We can do that in the morning.”

“We’ll lose progress. It will hurt worse if we wait.” But
maybe he was right. In their current mood, one touch would ignite the passion
that’d been brewing between them since they’d first met. Neither needed the
complication of sex mixed in this mess. “Or you can take a bath in that mini
pool you call a tub. Turn on the water as hot as you can stand it and soak for
half an hour.”

The lights to the bathroom flicked on. He pursed his lips,
something that should’ve made him appear feminine or pouty. Instead, she wondered
if they would taste as inviting as they looked. “I’ll make you a deal. You stay
in bed and don’t move, and I’ll do as you say.”

Putting action to words, he tugged off his shirt. She
quickly drew up her feet, fearing he would stop. She was staring, but she couldn’t
help it. There was something mesmerizing about seeing all that muscle in
motion.

When her gaze finally wandered up to his, breathing became
difficult. She half-expected a leer or a crude pass. All she saw was welcoming
heat.

She found herself relaxing against the pillows, silently
inviting him closer, itching to get her hands all over him.

As if to prolong the chase, he turned away and headed toward
the bathroom, unbuttoning his jeans.

A bit of her mourned that he’d moved before she saw what was
revealed. The other part of her breathed a sigh of relief to be spared. She
tried to tell herself that she was glad, but the lie wasn’t convincing even to
herself.

 Unable to help herself, she curled up on her side and
watched him ready the tub. When he straightened, the last thing she expected
was for him to strip off his pants.

No underwear.

That was the only thought circling her mind. She couldn’t seem
to think past that. He lowered himself in the tub, and she watched the play of
muscles in a sort of unbreakable fascination.

He settled deeper into the water, his head back, his eyes closed.
She could easily envision him being pleasured. Her gaze was glued on his hand
as it disappeared under the surface.

Before her mind wandered any further, she flipped to her
other side and squeezed her eyes tightly shut. That didn’t stop the near silent
trickle of water or prevent her from imagining what he could be doing. That
image fried the last of her remaining working brain cells.

It was all Merrick could do to turn his back on Trina. Her
silent invitation all but ruined his control. But it was too soon. If he took
her now, he’d have only one night with her and that was unacceptable.

So he toddled off to the bathroom like some eunuch and soaked
in the tub. The heat stung his back, and the water did nothing to get rid of
the ache in his balls. He closed his eyes to block the image of her watching
him from the darkness.

If anything, it made it worse. Even with the distance
between them, he smelled her desire, the scent driving his beast wild with the
need to stake claim.

He slid his hand under the water and fisted himself, but his
own grip didn’t satisfy his lust. He wanted her smaller hands on him, her
smooth skin against his.

He recalled the delicate way she’d stroked Beast. It was
like she’d reached in his pants and brought him to full arousal with just a brush
of her fingers.

One touch, and both he and Beast were hers. Each time Beast
rose at her nearness, it became easier. Still feeling her touch deep inside his
chest, he allowed the tension of the day to drain away, her presence soothing
despite the desire.

She was within reach and safe. He could relax.

When his back grew stiff from the heat, he drained the water
and slowly rose. The muscles ached, but nothing like they had before she
arrived. It gave him hope.

He entered the bedroom, very conscious that she was still
awake. The silence was absolute as if both were afraid to breath. The empty half
of the bed beckoned him. To keep his focus off her and his dick, he purposely
didn’t look at her and headed toward the uncomfortable couch.

The cold, empty couch.

Trina didn’t hear his silent tread, but she knew each step
he took the instant he rose from the tub. He walked by the bed then hesitated.
She half-expected him to crawl in next to her, almost turned over to welcome
him. It was all she could do to wait for him to decide.

When he finally moved toward the couch, she released the breath
she hadn’t known she’d been holding. Indecision churned her in gut. No matter
how much she might want to give in to the demands of her body, it would be a
mistake.

Getting involved with these people distracted her. She was
supposed to be working on a way to rescue her sister. Instead, all her time was
caught up with Merrick and her fascination with him.

The best thing that she could do for the both of them,
before they drove each other crazy, would be to keep her distance.