Arcane Heart (Talents Book 2)

by Angela Knight

  “What matters is you’re here now.” There was such understanding in his smile, she knew he meant it.

  “I was so sorry to hear about your dad. He was a hell of a man.”

  Kurt’s smile faded. “Yeah, he was.” He gestured her to the wooden chair next to his. “Have a seat. Want some coffee?”

  “God, yes.”

  He lifted a thermos from a nearby table and poured her a mug, dark, steaming and fragrant, then indicated a pair of stoneware containers and a set of nested spoons. “Cream and sugar.”

  “Thanks.” Erica doctored her coffee and seated herself in the low, sloping chair. Dave flopped down on the deck beside her like the world’s biggest house cat. The child’s parents didn’t even glance around. Either they’d already met the tiger, or they were so focused on their little girl, they hadn’t even noticed him. Possibly both.

  Erica sipped her coffee. It was rich and sweet, just the way she liked it. “I hate I had to miss Fred’s funeral.” Corry Winston III, CEO of Winston Dynamics, had refused to let her have time off to attend.

  “So do I. Your former boss sounds like an asshole.”

  “That was just a preliminary pucker. He later hinted it would be helpful if I cast a spell on the owner of a company he was trying to buy out. To make the guy a little more… cooperative in the negotiations.”

  Kurt frowned. “That’s illegal as hell.”

  “And that’s why I quit.”

  “Did you report him?”

  She shook her head. “He never came right out and ordered me to do it. Besides, the government is far more likely to believe a Norm CEO than the Talents who work for him. Arcs have ended up sued and bankrupt over blowing the whistle on that kind of thing. So I told him I really didn’t want to work in corporate magic anymore and quit.”

  “I wondered why you were working in law enforcement for a fifth of the salary you’d get in the private sector.”

  That, and I wanted to be closer to Jake.

  “Speaking of money, I checked the website this morning,” Kurt told Dave, his tone going grim. “Internet donations are down. I think those conspiracy theories about BFS are having an effect nationwide.”

  “I’ve been thinking about this.” Dave sat up on his haunches. “We really need to reconsider that reality show idea. My agent says it’s --”

  “Oh, fuck no!” Kurt interrupted. “Have cameras follow us into the bathroom? Have them script a bunch of stupid shit for us to say, or edit what we do say to have an entirely different meaning? I don’t think so.”

  “Shelly says we can structure the contract to avoid that. Look, the best way to combat HHer propaganda is to put the truth out there. Besides, I’m sick of people saying I’m a demon.”

  “A reality show isn’t going to stop that,” Jake announced, striding onto the deck and making a beeline for the coffee. “They’ll just say you’re some guy doing a voice-over for a CGI tiger.”

  “They say that anyway. I’m willing to put up with it, if it gives us enough money to feed all these cats. You can’t cut Feral calorie intake without fucking up their magic. And without the magic, we’re just animals.”

  “Nobody’s going to cut your caloric intake even if I have to get a fucking job at McDonald’s,” Kurt growled. “Anyway, Genevieve is keeping us afloat.”

  “And you hate asking her to do it,” Dave retorted.

  Jake had told Erica once that Kurt’s wife made a hell of a lot of money doing magical facelifts for the wealthy. The results looked far more natural than plastic surgery and didn’t distort the features. Though many Arcanists did such spells, Genevieve was considered among the best in the country. She had a long list of media stars and wealthy clients seeking her services.

  She could have made even more money as a healer, but Gen’s sense of ethics didn’t permit her to charge for her healing. Most of her patients were children with fatal diseases that hadn’t responded to conventional treatment.

  Jake, coffee in hand, settled into the Adirondack chair on Erica’s left. He, Kurt, and Dave continued the reality show argument in low voices.

  She found herself watching Jake’s magic as the shades of blue in his aura began to give way to the swirling patterns of dark red she associated with irritation. It was like watching a thunderstorm, flashes of energy playing through the clouds. It made her wonder what it would be like to really make love to him -- to be the focus of all that ferocious energy and passion.

  Last night had been the first time in months she’d even touched a man. The time before that had been a one-night stand when she’d been attending the South Carolina Criminal Justice Academy. Bored and lonely, she’d just wanted… something.

  Too bad the experience had been so completely forgettable. Her date had been a Norm ex-Marine, handsome and brawny, who’d looked on her as nothing more than a convenient piece of ass. But she couldn’t complain, because she’d been no more interested in a relationship with him. She’d just wanted somebody for the night. Now she couldn’t even remember his face, only an impression of short blond hair.

  Hair the same shade as Jake’s… Oh, God, am I really that shallow?

  No, but you really are that far gone.

  Erica’s eyes drifted to the line of Jake’s jaw, the rise of his sculpted cheekbones, the curve of his lip. Almost without intending to, she reached out with a curl of her aura, brushing it against the hypnotic swirl of his.

  Jake’s gaze snapped to her, eyes widening.

  A smile tugged her own lips in response. Wickedly, she sent out another aural probe dancing over the skin of his wrist. He blinked, his lips parting. Oh, I like this game. Erica gazed into Jake’s eyes as hunger surged through his aura in a spill of violet, growing brighter as it grew more intense. The pupils of his eyes expanded, reacting to his desire.

  Just wait till I get you alone. For a moment, Erica thought he’d said the words out loud. But no, it was simply the pure intent reverberating through his aura, loud as a shout.

  “Okay, you owe me a turkey,” Dave told Kurt. “And I’m not talking about some dry bird either. You’re going the full Martha Stewart, complete with fixings.”

  Kurt held up both hands, laughing. “Okay, you’ll get your turkey.”

  Dave grinned, all teeth. “And when he asks her to marry him, you’ve gotta find me a girl.”

  “I keep telling you, there aren’t that many women Feral vets with tigress Familiars. Even fewer of those have melded with their cats. So, no, I am not taking that bet.”

  Erica dragged her gaze away from Jake to stare at them in growing outrage. “You two are betting on whether Jake and I get involved?” She looked at Jake -- who, damn him, looked hugely amused.

  Before she could sputter a suitably scathing opinion, Erica felt the insistent buzz of magic begin to fade. Glancing around, she saw the rotating sigils of Genevieve’s spell slow and sink into the ground.

  In the center of the circle, Gen stepped back from her easel and stretched, hands braced on the small of her back. She arched, rolling her shoulders, then looked toward the deck and gave them all a tired wave. “I’m done.”

  The whole group stood, eager to see how Jaida was doing. Mrs. Garza hurried past, eyes wide and desperate with hope. Her husband clattered down the deck stairs after her as she broke into a run toward the circle. The doctor and ambulance crew followed a little more decorously, with Erica, Jake, Kurt and Dave bringing up the rear.

  “Did it work?” Jaida’s mother called, sprinting across the yard toward her daughter’s stretcher.

  Genevieve smiled, brushing the hair back from her face with pastel-smeared fingers. “I think so. We’ll know for sure in the next couple of days.”

  The parents and medical crew gathered around, watching as the doctor pulled out a stethoscope and bent to listen to the girl’s chest.

  Genevieve pulled the thumbtacks from the sketch and removed the drawing from the easel. She dug a can of fixative out of the bag at her feet and shook it, the metal bead
rattling merrily as she walked off to put the portrait down on the grass. The can hissed as she began coating the drawing with the transparent spray to protect it from smudging.

  Erica walked over to study the sketch over her shoulder. The child who looked so gaunt and ill on the stretcher bloomed with health in the sketch. Her smile shone bright with happiness, curling dark hair tumbling around her shoulders. In reality, the girl’s scalp was hairless after so many rounds of chemo, and dark circles ringed her closed eyes.

  Even in the sunlight, the magic that boiled around the sketch was so intense Erica could see it. Each pastel line carried such a powerful magical charge she knew Genevieve must infuse the handmade sticks with her own powdered blood. “Damn, that’s impressive.”

  Gen looked up from adding another coat of fixative and smiled. “Erica, right? Kurt said you were coming. I’m so glad to finally meet you.”

  She held out a hand and Erica shook it. The healer’s palm practically buzzed with magic where she gripped Erica’s. Her long, tapered fingers felt a little gritty with pastel dust.

  Genevieve looked down at their clasped hands and released her, grimacing in apology. “Sorry about the chalk. I can never seem to work without ending up covered in it.”

  “Occupational hazard.” Erica nodded toward Jaida, who’d begun to stir under her blankets. “I wish I could heal like that. Never had a talent for it, though God knows I tried. My mother was a healer.” The thought brought a familiar stab of pain. If I had the kind of power Gen does, could I have saved Mom? On the other hand, an adult’s magical fields were more difficult to manipulate into regenerating than a child’s, so it might not have mattered. And the breast cancer had spread by the time they’d found it, so there was that…

  “Oh, you have plenty of talent. It just takes a different form from mine.” Tilting her head, Gen eyed Erica thoughtfully. “I wonder if we could combine our magic.”

  “You mean work spells together? Like a coven?”

  “It wouldn’t have to be that elaborate. There are some techniques we can use that would allow us to amplify each other’s spells.” She smiled. “Besides, I could use some female company. I don’t know about you, but I’m drowning in testosterone.”

  “Drowning?” Erica snorted. “I spend my whole life bobbing on a sea of it.” She considered the other woman a moment and grinned. “Oh, what the hell. I’m in.”

  “Are you going to dance skyclad?” Dave thrust his big head between them, his eyes as huge and round as a kid’s contemplating Christmas. “Ooooo! Nekkid witches! Can I watch?”

  Genevieve popped him between the ears. “Too. Many. Legs.”

  “Awwww, you’re no fun.” He flattened his ears and came as close to pouting as anyone with three-inch fangs could.

  Before either of them could formulate a return sally, a dark haired whirlwind barreled into Gen, throwing both arms around her.

  “You did it!” Tears of joy ran down Mrs. Garza’s face as Genevieve dropped the spray can to hug her back. “Her vitals are better. She’s conscious! She spoke to me!” The woman’s voice sounded choked with tears and her shoulders shook as she curled her arms tighter around Gen. “We’ll pay you. We’ll get a GoFundMe and…”

  “Not if you don’t want to offend me,” Gen retorted. “You don’t owe me a dime. Anyway, we won’t know she’s really cured for weeks yet.” She stepped back and handed the woman the sketch. “Keep this above her bed for the next year at least. It’s probably a good idea to hang onto it even after that.”

  Mrs. Garza took it with shaking hands, a tender smile dawning over her drawn face. “It looks just like Jaida before she was sick, just a little older. It’s like it never happened.”

  Erica’s throat thickened at the woman’s joy, and she gave Genevieve an approving nod.

  Chapter Seven

  They stayed for lunch: trays of sandwiches provided by park volunteers, who’d known Genevieve would be starved after the healing. Sure enough, the Arcanist put away a surprising amount of food before staggering upstairs for a nap.

  Afterward, Dave and the guys took Erica on a guided tour of the park. Proud as a new father, Kurt demonstrated the systems to keep his volunteers safe while they took care of the cats.

  Meanwhile Erica found her attention drifting more and more to Jake. As her gaze lingered on his big, handsome body and strong hands, yearning rolled through her like warm honey. His hand brushed hers as they walked, so close their hips bumped, fingertips tracing over sensitive skin. With each contact, she felt the stroke of his aura, or sent her own ghosting against his.

  Excitement crackled along her nerves like flame along a fuse. Dave was right: it was time to go for it. I’m finally going to do it. I’m going to make love to him.

  It was a bad idea. Chances were good she’d end up regretting it. Yes, Ferals were sexy as hell, but loving a man with a cat in his head could be dangerous. Erica still had a set of claw marks on her left thigh from the time Bobby had gotten carried away. Yet feeling the brush of Jake’s intoxicating aura, she was more than willing to take that risk again.

  “Oh, for God’s sake,” Dave said, sounding disgusted, “Would you two get a room? You’re making my teeth ache.”

  Jake smirked. “It’s not your teeth that’s aching.”

  “Asshole.”

  Erica’s cheeks went hot as her gaze slid to Jake’s. He smiled back with a flicker of dimple and a wicked glitter in his eyes.

  * * *

  Jake watched Erica slide into the truck next to him. The scent of her seemed to fill his head: a combination of her body, her shampoo, and the sharp electric tang of her magic. But best of all was the arousal that had been building since they’d all sat on the deck. She was turned on. More, she was turned on by him. Not by Bobby, not by some other man, but him.

  He’d wanted her for so fucking long. Watching her buckle her seatbelt, he suspected his aura probably glowed like a torch with the intensity of his lust.

  RRrrrrwwww. Clarence’s thought sliced into his consciousness, wordlessly demanding that he claim her before some other male got the chance. Lions were territorial as hell, a quality his cat thought Jake would do well to share.

  She’s not territory, furball.

  The lion’s reply was a rumbling psychic growl Jake had no problem translating. If you keep playing by the rules, you’re going to lose. Or maybe that thought was Jake’s.

  Acutely conscious of her, he drove the Ford toward the BFS exit, his mind working as he planned her seduction. He scarcely even noticed the icy stares of the protesters as they drove past the picket line.

  Out of the corner of one eye, he saw a glowing paw reach across the bench seat toward her. Oh no, you don’t, he told Clarence sternly. Too Many Legs.

  “RRRRRRmph.” Translation: Then get off your ass.

  He flicked Erica a look. She was fidgeting, shifting in her seat. She quickly turned the other way, suggesting she’d been watching him. Maybe the furball had a point.

  As he stopped at a red light, Jake sent a tendril of aura stretching across the distance between them, feathering his power over the life force swirling around her hand.

  Erica shot him a smoldering look in response.

  He kept his gaze firmly on the traffic ahead, though his lips wanted to twitch. I’ve got her attention. Now I just need to keep it.

  His next magical probe quested up the length of her arm, just barely stirring her aura. The last thing he wanted was to make her feel she was being groped. Which was why he resisted the temptation offered by those beautiful breasts.

  He could feel her -- the strength and currents of her magic, glowing bright with the intensity of the mind behind it. There was a visible complexity in the auras of Talents that Norms lacked. That was particularly true of Erica’s. Countless interconnecting threads created a structure as intricate and lovely as a spider web dewed and glowing in the morning sunlight.

  And God, the way it felt. As delicate and arousing as the feeling of breath
against bare skin. Intimate. Hot.

  His psychic probe dancing over the strands of Erica’s aura, he gloried in the freedom to touch her. With every gliding brush, his need grew -- first into hunger, then craving, then stark animal lust.

  And all the while, a rumble sounded deep in his mind: Clarence. Lions didn’t purr, and yet the deep, thrumming sound could be described no other way.

  * * *

  Erica bit her lower lip, her gaze locked on Jake’s face in fascination. She would’ve thought he was concentrating on the road, if it hadn’t been for the tiny, exquisite sensations he triggered with each brush of his aura against hers. It reminded her of the sensation of feathers swirling over flesh, delicate as a butterfly’s wing. Yet somehow the faint flutter was more erotic than hands on nipples or cunt.

  A flush rode his high cheekbones, and his gold eyes glittered as he moistened his lower lip with a pass of his tongue. His big hands rode the wheel easily as he steered the truck around curves, passing other cars with a cop’s skilled competence.

  Imagining those hands on her skin made her heartbeat a demanding thump in her throat. Swallowing, she crossed her legs. Her gaze drifted downward, following the contours of his muscled chest beneath the red flannel shirt he wore tucked in his jeans.

  Down to his belt buckle and the bulge pressing against his fly. Good God, I don’t remember Bobby being quite that hung.

  His aura brushed her inner thigh in a tender, silken stroke. Erica watched the bright rose tendril skate across her skin. It teased her with the thought of what else he could do with his magic.

  Her mouth felt dry. Her gaze flicked up to his lower lip, remembering the taste of it. Wanting more. Wanting everything she could get. She’d craved him so damn long. Wanted him so desperately but hadn’t had the guts to risk it. Now she ached to run her hands along those broad shoulders and feel muscle shift under her fingertips. Burned to touch the hot, intriguing bulge of his erection behind the tough material of his jeans.

  Almost shaking with hunger, she reached out a tendril of aura to play it along the muscled length of his thigh. His magic felt so much more intense than hers. Touching it felt like putting a hand into a fast-moving stream, feeling it roil and bubble around her fingers. His head turned toward her, and his eyes narrowed, reflecting hot gold.