by C. I. Black
So much— Raven howled. Too much. He’s—
The other woman, the one Raven had been talking to, of similar height and build to Raven with a pixie cut and pale eyes, scrambled into the room. A brilliant white aura blazed around her, and her thoughts sliced into Becca in a wild yell of determination, confusion, panic, and pain. She had to help. But how? All that wind. She didn’t have control of her magic. The guy in the bed— The woman on the floor weeping. Raven—
Raven.
The woman’s thoughts jerked to a stop. I’m helping Raven. She’ll know how to fix this. She reached for Raven, who slammed a gust of wind into her and threw her into the room across the hall.
Mother, no! “I’m sorry, Anaea,” Raven gasped, and her wind wavered than blasted stronger into a tornado. I can’t control it. Her wind seized the lounge chair and nightstand and smashed them against the wall, whipping the pieces into dangerous projectiles.
Anaea rushed to her feet and back into the hall as Nero barreled through the doorway, shirtless, his muscular chest crusted with dried blood. He stopped midstep, his dark gaze flashing over the room then landing on Becca. For a second the voices dimmed. There was only him. No wind. No guy in the bed with his body on fire and a wild magic she didn’t understand, and no roaring mob in her head. Only the agony of the blaze consuming her essence.
Protect. Nero had to protect her. There was only her, there would only ever be her, except—
A piece of something sliced Becca’s cheek and shot over Nero’s shoulder, heading for the other woman, Anaea. Becca screamed, but she had no idea if it was all in her head or not. Raven’s thoughts fought to control her wind and turned horrified when she couldn’t. Anaea’s thoughts stuttered, then she dropped to the floor, and the spike of metal whizzed past her and embedded in the concrete wall.
Raven is the immediate danger. Help her. Except Becca had no idea if that was her thought or his.
More agony sliced through her skull and the fire in her body burned hotter. “Help. Raven.” Then, if you can, you can help me. Please, God. Help me. End this.
Raven screamed again and more wind tore from her. “He’s a surge.” Please, Mother.
“What’s a surge?” Anaea asked.
Nero swore. “He amplifies earth and soul magic, even awakens dormant powers, and depending on the force behind the power he surges into you, it’s permanent.” He had to get this situation under control and help Becca.
Becca’s heart contracted— or was that Nero’s? All her pain, all those voices. It could be permanent. It could—
Nero barked a guttural word and slapped his palm to the wall just inside the door. The black vortex of a gate flared to life and his thoughts tightened, shooting more blazing agony into Becca’s head.
Got to control this.
He said his other power word and his wind roared from his hands. “Anaea, call—”
Diablo slipped past him into the room. “I’m here.”
“Get Raven,” Nero gasped. “Calm her down, knock her out. I don’t care. Just end her power.” He flexed his hand, and his wind swelled into Raven’s and yanked it toward the gate.
“Surge,” Raven gasped. “Please.” No one else could touch him. It’s bad enough Becca had.
The pain in Becca’s body flared. God, she didn’t think it could get worse. Her muscles trembled and she gasped for breath. Between one blink and the next, Diablo vanished from the doorway and appeared at Raven’s side. Her wind surged, and the top of the nightstand bashed into him. He staggered against the bed, a slice of white lightning shooting from his thoughts into Becca. He howled, but he caught his balance and heaved into the wind.
“Hurry up,” Nero growled. He couldn’t keep fighting Raven’s wind and holding the gate open while his body was still healing Becca’s gunshot wound.
“I’m trying,” Diablo yelled back. But it was hard to concentrate, hard to hold it together. Hard not to rip everything apart. “It would help if pieces of chair weren’t slamming into my face.”
Another thread of wind joined Nero’s, not as strong but enough to keep the flying shrapnel from Diablo, and Anaea’s thoughts, her need to concentrate on her magic, cut through the roar in Becca’s head.
The guy in the bed screamed again, then his thoughts vanished, along with the light blazing around him. But everyone else’s thoughts remained. Clamoring, in pain, desperate, needing, cajoling, consuming. She was losing herself, uncertain which were her thoughts and which weren’t.
All because of magic. Impossible, nightmare magic. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real. This couldn’t be her life. She didn’t have a life. There was no life. There was nothing—
The muscles in Becca’s chest jerked taut, and the fire in her body turned to ragged, slicing shards. It wasn’t real. She wasn’t real. She—
Nero howled, but she had no idea if it was in her head or not.
Not. It had to be not. Hearing voices was impossible. This wasn’t possible.
Her throat tightened. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think past the pain.
“Mother, help,” someone gasped.
Nero dropped to his knees, his wind still tangling with Raven’s. His chest heaved, and his body was tight with agony. “Get Raven under control.”
“What do you think I’m doing?” Diablo grabbed the front of Raven’s shirt, but her wind sliced deep into his forearms. His grip tightened as the wind whipped his blood into the tornado, and he roared.
Come on, Raven. Snap out of it. Please. I can’t fight it for much longer. Becca is losing her shit and taking me with her. Nero is about—
White light blazed behind Nero and Anaea stepped closer. Her wind raced around Raven and Diablo, pinning them to the far wall.
“Knock me out,” Raven gasped.
“Control your God damned magic,” Diablo hissed at her.
Both of their thoughts sliced into Becca. Raven couldn’t hold it together. Diablo was going to kill her, all of them, everyone. And it wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real.
A seizure slammed into Becca and she screamed. All thoughts turned to her. Even the hundreds— no, hundreds of thousands of others in her head froze and concentrated on her. They were captured in her agony, their thoughts shattering with her, and she didn’t know how to save them… because it wasn’t real.
Oh, Mother, someone whispered, the voice soft, feminine. Raven.
Sudden warmth flooded Becca, easing the inferno consuming her and the agony slicing into her brain. This was real, and she could handle it. She was strong. She could heal. And she could learn to control her power. Yes, the universe wasn’t what she’d expected, but that was all right. She was strong enough to handle the truth. She had people who loved her and would help her.
The wind in the room vanished. Nero groaned and Anaea’s blazing white aura dimmed. The guy in the bed sobbed and Raven sagged into Diablo’s arms.
“What was that?” Anaea asked.
“The effect of a surge on a wind power,” Nero said. “Diablo, call Grey and get him down here.”
“Fucking call him yourself.” Diablo shifted his grip on Raven and cradled her in his arms. With a whoosh, he vanished and reappeared in the room across the hall. He laid her on the mattress and then vanished again. But his fear and rage remained in Becca’s head. He was terrified, but she couldn’t tell about what. They were all scared, Anaea because she’d barely managed to keep her magic in check, Raven — only semi-conscious — because she could have hurt her family, and Nero because Becca could have died. Even all the hundreds of thousands of others were terrified. With the force of Becca’s power, she could have shattered their minds. All those voices she’d captured in her head didn’t know exactly what had happened, only understood on a primal level they’d been in danger. They didn’t even know how, but they, like her, knew that she could have hurt all of them.
Nero eased to her side and grabbed her hand. All the voices but his disappeared, and she slumped against him in relief. He was
scared he’d lose her. He was scared they had a chance at forever now. He was scared of how scared he was. And he was furious. Dragons weren’t scared. Dragons killed the things that scared them.
She shifted, drawing his arms around her. “Just hold me.” Just let me be with you without the pain and the other voices. Everything else… she could figure out later.
The whoosh of air from a gate swept down the hall. Grey strode into view and his gaze leapt over the shattered furniture, knocked-over cabinet in the hall, and strewn medical supplies, towels, and sheets. “Holy Mother. What happened?”
“The new intake is a surge,” Nero said, his voice rumbling into Becca. “Raven touched him.” Becca, too. Mother, how are we going to fix this?
One step at a time, she thought back at him, knowing the calm had come from Raven before she’d passed out.
“I need you to watch him and Raven until—”
“No problem,” Grey said. Nero looks like shit. Probably hasn’t fully healed that gunshot and now— Grey’s gaze slid to Anaea. “Probably best if you keep your distance. You barely have control of your earth magics as it is. One new power awakening every week is the most we can handle. We don’t want you to be at full power for everything all at once.”
Anaea shuddered. “Agreed. Will you be all right?”
Grey shrugged. “Not going to touch him.” I’m having enough trouble with the earth magic I have. I don’t want another one. “Although hey, maybe he’ll give my soul magic a spark and I’ll get faster healing.”
“Not a risk I’m willing to take,” Nero said, his grip around Becca tightening. She could have full soul magic now. Permanently.
Grey’s expression darkened. “Me, neither.” His gaze turned to the room with Raven. “I’m going to sit with her, just to be safe. You—” He turned to Nero. “You should probably get into some running water and finish dealing with that gunshot and…” Your inamorated problem.
And it’s one hell of problem—
Shit, did I just hear that because of Becca? Nero tensed, his grip around her tightening.
Sorry. She tried to focus on her magic and turn it to a dimmer setting, but couldn’t seem to concentrate on anything other than her body against his, his arms around her, and his thoughts muddling in her head.
“Don’t think I’m not dealing with it,” Nero said. “All of it.”
“I know. It’s just—” Grey rubbed his face. “I don’t know how much time we have. Regis could start enforcing his proclamation for all drakes to return to Court at any point and there’s still the issue of Becca and her circumstances. If even half of what Raven told me was true, you need to be as close to a hundred percent as possible, and fast. With all our current troubles, everyone is in danger until you get back to fighting form.” He rubbed his face again and sighed. “The rest of us can only cover for so long. Hell, I can’t even cover for you because I’m on the prince’s most wanted list.”
“Ivy will be safe.” Nero drew Becca closer, and the thought of something happening to her and not being able to save her made his heart race. “She’s part of the puzur. You’re part of the puzur.”
“So are you.” Grey glared at Nero. Raven also fears you might leave because of Becca. I won’t let that happen. None of us will.
I might not have a choice. Nero’s sadness filled Becca, and her throat tightened.
“So you better take care of yourself, especially with what I know about soul magic.”
“And what’s that?” Nero wasn’t sure he wanted to know, but Grey wouldn’t be saying anything if it wasn’t important.
“Taking on someone’s injuries takes more out of soul magic than any other kind of injury. I’m assuming what you did is similar to spells mentioned in the Handmaiden’s book, so we have to assume, even if your injuries are healed, your soul magic is still diminished.”
Becca shivered, and Nero inched her closer. “Get to the point.”
“Your healing will be slower than before until your soul magic can recover. Taking on any more of her injuries anytime soon would likely kill you, and I’m pretty sure your soul magic wouldn’t let you do it, even if she is your inamorata.” Grey strode into the other room to the lounge chair beside Raven. “Get him in water, Becca, and see he stays there until his internal injuries are healed and his soul magic is back on the mend.”
“Right. Sure.” Why not. Magic existed, so why not knowing when internal injuries were healed without any medical equipment? Sudden realization swept through her. Water meant little or no clothes. Hopefully less clothes than Nero wore now. And a part of her — and not just the part that was mentally linked to Nero — liked that idea. Really liked that idea.
28
Nero summoned a gate underneath them and moved them from the concrete floor in the transition suites to the rug in the middle of his bedroom. His mind whirled with a confusing mix of thoughts, his, Becca’s, Grey’s, and Anaea’s, while his heart pounded, half with Becca’s fear and half with his own. She could have been killed, and he had no idea if he’d have been able to take on her injuries again. He had no idea how he’d done it the first time, and Grey had warned him he might not be able to do it again.
As it was, he still hadn’t fully healed from the gunshot wound, and Grey had been right. He needed to get into fighting form as fast as possible. Except with the strain of having held open a gate while battling Raven’s wind and funneling it out over the Arctic, he didn’t think he’d have the power to stand. Certainly not for the time it would take to heal while being in the shower. No, he needed submersion in water, and the best place for that was the whirlpool tub in his en suite, so he’d gated them to his bedroom. He wasn’t going to think about how Becca felt in his arms, a perfect fit, held tight against his body, making him hard in anticipation. Or how the sight of his king bed made him imagine how she’d look, naked and spread on his sheets.
No, he needed to figure out what to do with her—
And it shouldn’t be making love and sealing his soul bond to her.
No matter what he craved.
Besides, she wasn’t inamorated back, not to mention she was human.
His pulse stuttered. Connecting with the surge’s magic could have fully awakened her soul magic. The first time she’d touched the new intake explained how her broken ribs and collarbone had healed so quickly. A second blast and… she could be immortal like—
He clamped down on that thought.
“I’ve already heard it,” she said, her voice trembling, her palm pressed against his bare chest.
Please, Mother, not the thoughts about the bed.
“Your soul magic—” he said, unable to keep his desire from making his voice gruff. “It’s just a hope.” An unfair one, as well. Not inamorated back, remember? When she figured out how to control her telepathy, she’d want her life back and would want to go home. “The new guy is just coming into his magic. It probably isn’t at full strength, which means any effects he might have caused will fade.”
“That would be good for Raven.” Becca shuddered and drew Nero’s arms tighter around her, hugging her body against his and making him harder.
He bit back a groan and fought to focus on the situation, not the woman, not how she felt, or the electric sear of attraction burning through his every cell. Becca had touched the new guy as well, and Nero had felt the agony of her magic scorching inside her. Having the strength of her telepathy fade would be good for her, too.
He pressed his cheek to the top of her head, unable to stop himself from savoring the feel of her against him, and breathing in her scent of vanilla from the shampoo in the transition suites’ showers. He wouldn’t get much more of this. Even if, hope beyond hope, she was inamorated back, he’d at best get sixty or seventy more years.
Unless her soul magic had been fully awakened.
God, he couldn’t seem to stop himself from going back to that impossible thought.
“I promise it’ll fade soon,” he forced out. All of it.
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Except you’re not sure that’s true, she thought, her words clear in his mind. “I’m getting mixed messages again.”
“Because I don’t know what the truth is, and I’m too tired to ignore being—” Being inamorated. “—in this situation.” No matter how impossible it was to be inamorated a second time.
Now his chest really ached. Mother of All, he needed to pull himself together. Grey was right. He was doyen and dugga and the members of his coterie, puzur, and the Asar Nergal needed him to protect them. He had to regroup and to do that, he had to finish healing the wound he’d taken from Becca — because, Mother of All, he really was inamorated — and figure out what to do with her.
Inamorated. Again. As impossible as it was.
The thought settled around his heart, solid and strong and right. He belonged to her. His dugga’s magic had nothing to do with this, and, good or bad, his soul knew she’d make him a better, stronger drake.
Which still didn’t help him figure out what to do with her. And taking her to bed wasn’t one of those options.
“You know I can still hear your thoughts.” She shifted to look him in the eyes, her body still trembling, the strain of her magic tightening her jaw, but her expression hard with determination. A hint of blush crept up her neck. “All of your thoughts.”
“Right.” Jeez. “Sorry.”
I’m not. Except he could feel that a part of her wasn’t certain if her attraction to him originated from her, or if the emotion came from him because he was inamorated. But her desire shoved that away. It didn’t care. She yearned for him with a core-deep need that was both thrilling, confusing, and terrifying.
“This is my fault. I should get into the tub to finish healing and, if we’re being honest, to think straight. Then—” The bed. No. Figure this mess out. Focus. “You can stay here, watch TV or sleep. I don’t know how long I’ll be.” He didn’t want to leave her but knew he should, and made himself shift away.
The moment they separated, searing agony and the roar of voices slammed into him. Becca gasped and grabbed her head. A tremor swept through her body then another, stronger than the first, each shake slicing white lightning into Nero.
