by Hayley Todd
Carson’s eyes went wide but he advanced. He was so fast that my mind had a hard time keeping up, making it even harder to manage to anticipate his next move. I snapped my wrist and the tail of magick whipped towards him. I was surprised to see that where the strand snapped his skin, welts blossomed.
Even he gazed down at his wound with wide eyes. He continued forward though, and leapt toward me, his fist raised high.
Oh, well that’s going to hurt.
His hand came towards my face and I braced for impact unable to defend myself at close range with a whip. I held my hands up to soften the blow.
But the blow never came.
I squinted my eyes open to see the lightning whip extending from my hanging arm. It was short now had thinned and had wrapped itself neatly around Carson’s wrist which held his fist mere centimeters from my skin. I froze, my eyes wide, watching.
Carson’s eyes were glowing brightly now, staring at his fist in horror. I felt the grin creep across my face.
As his eyes flicked to mine, I pushed forward with my will. The magick flipped away from me and unraveled, launching Carson across the room. He landed on a rack holding various sized barbells and knocked it backward, sending loose weights scattering across the floor. There was a grimace of pain on his face as he sat up.
Damn. That almost made me feel bad.
He crawled to his feet, and my battle ready mind saw Henrick. It saw this man who had wronged me in so many ways and currently held captive my best friend.
I zipped forward, swinging my arm—and the whip—forward. Carson braced, his arms held upright. The whip crashed against a dome shaped barrier that set off a shimmer of electricity on impact. It was otherwise opaque. I realized then that he did not put out some sort of mystical anti-magick bubble.
It was a shield.
Despite blocking the hit, he had still been knocked out of his path and barely managed to catch himself as he came awkwardly onto his feet.
A shield.
He had some sort of anti-magick shield. But I had broken through it at least twice now. Right? I looked him over. He definitely sported a long welt along one arm. His wrist was strangely absent of wounds though. I thought back to the first impact. It was harsh and performed in a way that a whip actually would. The other contact had as well.
So, I just needed something that would work against a shield.
A blue glow caught my attention.
My arms were sparkling with electricity, glowing so brightly that the lights around us seemed dim by comparison. It seemed that my magick had its own ideas.
I leapt through the air, coming down onto Carson, who had dashed forward at the same moment. Unlike me, he hadn’t anticipated the correct next move. My blue white fists came down on his back. I made contact, his body wriggling with dancing bolts and plummeting to the ground.
He landed in a heap and hit the ground hard.
The sound of the impact echoed around the room. All was still for one long moment before he rolled over and sat up. Actually, he launched toward me, bolting off the ground after me. I stepped back but he was coming in too quickly, I couldn’t dodge.
His muscled shoulder rammed into my belly, knocking me backwards and slamming my head off the floor. Again, there was the echoing thud of a body being knocked around. Instead of pulling back like he had done every time, he leaned in closer, bracing his forearm over my throat, cutting off my air.
I tried to gather my will, pull magick to me, and get the strength to buck him off. Something. But the scrambled panic filling my brain due to lack of oxygen became forefront in my mind, allowing no other thoughts to form. I reached up to every part of him I could reach and struggled to push him away. He completely ignored it.
Just as my vision started to tinge with black, he released me, hurling himself back and sitting beside me, breathing heavily. After a few spluttering coughs, I lifted myself upright, sitting quietly beside him.
For a long time, we sat in the silence. Then I couldn’t help but lean closer to him. “What does it feel like?” I asked, pressing nearer. He leaned back on his arms now, holding himself up. He looked down to me.
He sighed. “What part?” He responded.
“Any part,” I replied. “Basically being a sex god? Well, to some cultures anyway. Feeding on emotion? Are you affected by the lust when feeding like I am? Do you get pleasure from it?” I asked in a tight voice. The words burned as they escaped my mouth.
He looked curiously at me and laughed, it was a hearty belly laugh that he had seemed to have needed. “Don’t hold anything back,” he chuckled.
Warmth heated my cheeks. I looked away from him. “I’m sorry,” I trailed off.
He leaned closer, his warmth washing over me. “I’m just kidding. I’m not a sex god. And you know how I feel about the bloodletting. You’ve felt it.” I wouldn’t know. I got so overwhelmed I didn’t know whose emotions I was feeling.
He scooted closer. “The power is,” he paused, “intense. It’s hard to control and harder to practice. Unless your sadistic, you try not to risk lovers lives to experiment.” He paused again before continuing in a rush. “But it’s a hell of a drug. It’s hard to stop it once you’ve started letting it take hold. It makes you not want to stop it.”
I looked up at him for just a moment, looking away before I could catch his attention. “I’m pretty hardy,” I replied, feeling like I could catch fire where I sat from the burn in my cheeks.
He laughed, not looking over. “I think you’ve proven that.”
The way he said it...as though that were the point of the night. I leaned onto my knees. “Was that the whole point of this?” I asked, a little hysterical. Was he really seeing how far he could push me? Looking at how well I could fight back?
He laughed again.
He was considering it! I could see it now in his posture. He clenched his knuckles tight, their tips showing white. The muscles in his back bulged. He was tense. He was actually considering “practicing”.
“Partially,” he finally replied. “Your dad really did want me to push you. He wanted me to find out if you could hold your own. He wants you to go with him after Henrick, but he couldn’t if you couldn’t defend yourself.”
My heart leapt. Damien was going to let me go with him when they found Henrick. I could save Will and pound out some revenge on Henrick. “So, what’s the verdict?” I asked, trying to keep my voice calm.
“You’re perfectly capable to handle yourself. It eases my nerves at least.” He smiled and paused, took a deep breath and finally admitted, “I don’t like that you’re going.” The words seemed to pain him.
“I have to, Carson.”
“I know.”
I stared up at him. He glanced back at me, smiling softly.
“I’m not going to stop you. Even if I really want to.”
“You really want to?”
He sighed, running his hand through his hair. “Yes. I want to stop you. I want to clutch you in my arms and take you away from here. But I know Will is out there. And I know that I couldn’t stop you if I tried.”
His expression broke my heart. But he was right. I couldn’t stand idly by and let Henrick have Will. And I couldn’t trust his safety to anyone else.
“I’m sorry,” I sighed at last, not knowing what else to say.
Carson sighed. I think he had known it was coming but was still just as important to hear it. He lifted himself to his feet and reached his hand, helping me up. He turned me around, wrapped his arms around me and pressed his lips beside my ear. “So, are you ready to practice?” He whispered and a chill ran down my spine.
I nodded and before I could respond, he’d swept me in his arms. My heart beat six times and we stopped outside his suite door. He helped me rest my feet on the ground and ushered me in, swinging the door shut behind us.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Carson strode around the room purposefully, moving things out of the way. I watched him with growing confusion.
At long last he approached me again.
“Can you dance?” He asked.
I gazed at him, more confused than ever. This wasn’t exactly how I had suspected our time alone tonight to go.
“Dance?” I replied.
A small smile graded his face. “Yes, dance.”
I shrugged after another moment trying to puzzle out his intentions. “Sort of,” I responded.
He suddenly swept over to me, and I fought the startled jump that tried to take place. He was inches from me, grinning down at me. “There is a dance, during the coronation ball, in which you dance with someone. It’s traditional known as the Suitor’s Dance. Before all of this insanity amongst the Magick court, you would’ve been expected to dance with Anton as your suitor. Now though, it seems you’ll get to select your dance partner.”
He eyed me playfully.
I imagined myself being swayed around a dance floor, Anton’s hand locked in mine, guiding me in graceful spins across the room. I grimaced.
“So, my dad just hoped I knew how to dance?” I asked incredulously.
Carson pushed aside the couch, the lost obstacle in the center of the room, watching me with an amused smile. “I presume his guidance there got a bit lost in the shuffle,” he replied.
I tried to be irritated. The thought of me stumbling and following after someone in moves I didn’t understand in front of the entire Magick council, was humiliating. But then I considered all my father had done for me in my time as a vampire.
He had interrogated people, led countless assaults on factions of witches, and still managed to run his house, and get me in for fight sessions, and coronation ball prep. I supposed I couldn’t fault him for losing a few lessons on how to pirouette.
“Will you be my partner?” I asked.
He stuttered to a stop midstep, gazing at me over his shoulder. He looked thoughtful for a moment, mulling over some train of thought. Then he stepped closer to me, nodding down at me. “It’s traditional for the partner to be another of the Magick court, but your coronation process has been anything but traditional. I would be honored.”
I beamed. His words seeped into me. “My father won’t be offended by that or something will he?” I asked him, watching him come closer cautiously.
He huffed a laugh. “I don’t think your father would be offended by anything you do,” he replied. “Some could say some choice things about him, but it’s never been a question about how much he dotes on his daughter. I don’t think that you could do anything wrong in his eyes.”
He was probably right. My dad hadn’t exactly set any particular ground rules. He probably trusted me in whatever choice I made.
Carson stepped forward again, gesturing for me to raise my arms. I lifted them quickly. He then took one of my hands, looping my arm around his waist and pressed my fingertips just to the side of the center of his spine. He then clasped my other free hand in midair. His other hand looped around my back, pressing gently just inside my shoulder blade.
He pushed forward, indicating the step with his fingers. I followed, taking a step back. He seemed to be able to direct me better with that touch than words might have.
“I’ll lead, you follow. Try to match my steps.”
I nodded as he began to guide me around the room, locked into his arms.
He made it easy to anticipate his next steps, slowly whirling me around the room. We fell into an easy rhythm. If he stepped forward, I stepped back. He stepped to the side and I followed along.
He finally released me, walking into his kitchen to a small silver box there emitting a blue glow from lights set into its front. He leaned down, quickly swiping through options before hitting one.
The room swelled with music. It wasn’t the melody I had expected. It reminded me of something that would play in the club. It was slow but with a bone rattling bass beneath the melody. I found myself wanting to dance. Perhaps not the type of dancing he was trying to teach me, but I found my hips swaying to the music.
He turned back to me, a wild smile on his lips as he took my hands in his again, replacing them in the correct spots. He pulled me close and even his scent alone was intoxicating.
He guided me around the room with long sweeping steps, and I realized, much to my surprise, that the dance was eloquent despite the techno beat. I followed him more easily now, seeing the steps unfold.
The bass of the music rolled through me, tingling goose bumps appearing along my skin. I loved his song choice.
He was jubilant as he swirled me about, a wide grin stretching his lips. His attitude was infectious and I found myself enjoying the sway.
Without warning, he hefted my body into the air, sliding my legs across his chest and spinning me. My feet were extended out past his shoulder but with his precautions I didn’t find myself colliding with anything.
“Stay stiff,” he directed me, spinning me effortless back to my feet. My heart hammered in my chest.
He had no difficulty in spinning me across his chest and returning my feet to the floor. I giggled, having no better response to the joy welling within me.
Once I’d been returned to the ground, the music began to fade, pounding out its last beats. He leaned close, our touch delicate and tender, and pressed a kiss to my lips.
Warmth and desire swept within me.
He pressed his forehead to mine, his breathing suddenly hard. “Are you sure you want to try this?” He gasped. I knew what he meant. He knew that I knew what he meant.
That warm, liquid allure blossomed in my belly. He was actually willing to try. He was letting me in, exposing me to his incubus side which he seemed apprehensive of.
“Yes,” I breathed, barely a whisper.
The next song on his music player swelled within the room, it’s beat hot and well suited for the moment. My body radiated with desire on every musical note.
He closed his eyes, his forehead still pressed gently against mine. I could feel when he started to shine. The room didn’t alter and the air wasn’t dispersed as it was with magick but I felt everything center to him and only him.
When he opened his eyes, they were glassy and glowing. His skin flowed with that blue energy and it swirled into and around me, encompassing me fully.
I exploded with desire. I wanted him, only him. My fingers clutched at his shirt collar, pulling his lips to me. He gave him, kissing me back, hard. One of his hands knotted into my hair, the other crept up the back of my neck.
His touch was blissful. It seemed to be the warmth to balm all of my injuries, both emotional and external. I lifted my arms and he wasted no time in dragging the tank top from my torso, pressing his kisses lower across my skin.
My body shuddered and he glanced up to me out of the corner of his eye. I moaned, a strangled, “Carson,” dragging from my lips. He grinned and continued moving his lips eagerly over my body.
He pressed his hand against my spine, pulling me closer until his lips had reached my navel. He began working his way back up my abdomen, the kisses gentle, but hungry. He kissed along the skin of each breast, exposed over my bra and up until he could nip near my neck.
His power rolled over me, shaking me to my core. He sucked in a deep breath as the shivers rolled through me. An undercurrent of predatory joy rocked through me. It stemmed from his kisses, not from my reaction to him. It was what he felt. He hadn’t spoken lightly of this power being a drug. I felt alive, my body alight, but wanted to drown in his touch.
His lips trailed under my ear and down my neck and my legs went weak under the sensation. He caught me, hoisting me against him, wrapping my legs around his back. He lifted me casually, glancing at his music player.
The sounds that pulsed through the room were hard, house music thumping in the background. It shook me and he fell into the rhythm of it. He walked us towards his bedroom door, lifting me easily.
I kissed along his skin. He didn’t shudder and buck as I had but closed his eyes and sucked in a breath. When his eyes met mine, they w
ere alight, the glow illuminating the room. He swung his bedroom door open and the room therein was swathed in darkness except for the glow of him.
He swept into the room, letting me kiss along his collarbone and neck before swinging the door shut behind us. The music echoed through this room too and it took me a moment in my bumbling haze to realize that there were speakers affixed throughout the suite, blaring that intoxicating beat.
I tugged at his shirt. He had changed before we fought, slipping off a crisp white shirt and black dress jacket and revealing a plain white tank beneath. I liked the view I got when he wore these, his muscles exposed from beneath the fabric.
He lifted his arms obligingly and I tossed the thin fabric to the floor. He still exuded that raw sexual draw but he was only half paying attention to me, his mind elsewhere. He looked down to me, a powerful, imposing figure and his jaw was tight.
I touched his chin with my fingertips, pulling his lips to mine. He kissed me but his eyes were wild. “Are you okay?” I asked, running my fingertips along his skin. He shivered, closing his eyes.
It took him a moment to collect his thoughts into a coherent statement. “Damn it, woman,” he replied at last, his voice tight. “You are intoxicating,” he finished, running his arms up my back. He was struggling.
I laughed in his arms and he grinned, burying his face into my neck, plastering my skin with kisses once more. Whether he realized he was doing it or not, he swayed with the melodic beat.
I hadn’t realized he was going to bit me until the sting broke through my haze of excitement. The resulting bliss exploded through me, rocking me so hard that I was glad he held me because I was sure my legs wouldn’t have at that moment. He drank greedily, but my pleasure continued to grow until I began to vibrate from it.
I wanted him. I wanted him desperately. I would give anything to have him. I needed him.
