Real Magic

by Lissa Michaels

  When he opened his eyes, he saw blood-streaked trails of water running down his chest. His face too. He found blood matted in the hair above his right ear, but no injury.

  “Soap,” he whispered, looking for a hidden dispenser in the speckled rock slabs that formed the sides of the three-walled stall.

  Stone scraped against stone as a small ledge slid out from the wall in front of him, bearing a small lavender cake of soap.

  “Don’t suppose you have anything that doesn’t smell like flowers.” It smelled sexy as hell on Jelena, but that didn’t mean he wanted to wear it.

  The cake turned blue.

  He sniffed it, and his eyes widened. It smelled like his regular soap. “Amazing.”

  He lathered his hands and scrubbed his hair. It took three washings before the water ran clear. He worked carefully over his left arm. No wound of any kind showed, just a pale pink line slashing across his biceps, but inside it hurt like hell.

  His abdomen was the same, very sore, but only a pink line showing where the wound was. It should have killed him. It would have, if Jelena hadn’t showed up when she did.

  Shaking the thought off, he soaped the rest of his body. His hand slid over his hipbone and stilled. Too smooth.

  Drake swiped the soap away and stared at his bare hip. “What the hell—”

  His scar was gone. And the tattoo on his right forearm. He knew without looking that the tattoo on his face was gone too.

  “Damn her.” He banged his hand on the shower door. “Let me out of here.”

  The water stopped abruptly and the door disappeared.

  He grabbed a towel, jerking it around his hips as he stomp-limped to the front door and yanked it open. Ignoring Jelena’s slack-jawed stare, he grabbed her arm and pulled her inside.

  “Excuse us.” He slammed the door in Cordan’s face.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Put them back. Now.”

  “What?”

  “The scar, the tattoos, put them back.”

  Understanding dawned in her eyes. She shook her head, crossing her arms in front of her. “I will not desecrate your body with that horrid tattoo. If you want it so badly, you’ll have to do it yourself. As for the scar, I can’t replace it without forcing you to relive the injury.”

  A shudder ran through him but he didn’t hesitate. “Do it.”

  “Don’t you understand? You’ll feel the pain all over again.”

  “I understand. Do it.”

  She looked at him like he’d lost his mind. “Why? Why do that to yourself?”

  “When you were a kid, did your parents ever punish you for something you did that could have got you hurt?”

  She nodded.

  He pulled his gaze away from her and studied the fine grain in the paneled wall. “Morgan and I did something stupid and nearly got ourselves killed. His dad was so angry I thought he’d strangle us.”

  “I SPECIFICALLY forbade you boys to go near that shore, yet you went anyway. Mantees aren’t docile during mating season. They’re dangerous! If we hadn’t heard your screams—” Tremaine dragged his shaking hand through his hair.

  Drake forced himself from the hospital bed to his feet and stood in front of Tremaine. He hurt, bad. He wanted to hold his stomach but he wouldn’t let himself. “It’s my fault.”

  “No,” Morgan protested from the other bed, “Drake—”

  Drake shook his head. He took a deep breath and stared directly into Tremaine’s eyes. It was the bravest thing he’d ever done. “Beat on me if you want to, I can take it, but don’t hurt Morgan. It was my idea. I wanted to see them, and—”

  “I’d never hurt you.” Tremaine’s face had gone deathly pale, and his low voice sounded raw, broken. He grabbed Drake and hugged him tight to his chest. “I thought I’d lost you. You understand? I thought I’d lost you both.” He slipped his hand behind Morgan’s neck and pulled him close too. “Don’t ever disobey me like that again.”

  “OUR PUNISHMENT was to heal naturally, so the scar would always remind us how close we came to dying.” Drake shook his head. “No one had ever given enough of a damn about me before to—” His voice cracked. He blinked against the burning in his eyes.

  “All right,” she whispered.

  He jerked his gaze to her. Her red-rimmed eyes were glassy and tears stained her beautiful face. Tears for him. An invisible fist twisted the knot in his gut even tighter.

  As she stepped toward him, his skin tingled from the energy building within her. “Put back that which was not a reminder of pain, but of love.” As she stared into his eyes, she traced a crescent on the towel over his hip.

  Her sparkling amethyst eyes blurred and changed. Sunlight glittered on the white sand, warming his body. The surf lapped gently on the shores of the cove, washing over his toes. The salty, tropical breeze kissed his face. Just as he remembered.

  They surfaced. Sleek. White. Magnificent. But they came right at him. Too fast!

  He ran, but wasn’t quick enough. One latched on to him, dragging him beneath it. His skin tore, and the muscle under it.

  Groaning, Drake doubled over, grabbing his abdomen. Blood seeped through his fingers and dripped on the floor.

  Ah, gods, it was every bit as bad as when it happened. The terror, the pain. He refused to look at Jelena, refused to see her tears. Hearing her cry was bad enough.

  When pain finally receded, he lay curled in a tight ball on the floor, panting for breath. The blood was gone. He shoved the towel down enough to see the scar. Sighing, he lay on his back.

  Jelena leaned over him, close enough to kiss, and brushed her hand against his forehead. “Are you all right?”

  He nodded, slipping his hand behind her neck, and pulled her to him. She didn’t protest. “Thank you,” he whispered, and kissed her.

  The wind chime tinkled, followed immediately by insistent pounding on the door. “Jelena!” Cordan’s muffled voice filtered through the thick wood door. “Jelena, let me in.”

  Drake broke the kiss and stared into her eyes.

  She stared at him, seeming in no hurry to answer the summons. In fact, she looked like she wanted to kiss him again.

  “You’d better see to your betrothed before he has the whole city busting in here to save you.”

  She opened her mouth to argue with him, then sighed and rose to her feet. As she walked to the door, Drake limped toward the bedroom and leaned against the wall near the door.

  Cordan’s gaze narrowed on Drake the moment he pushed by Jelena and entered the room, noting quite obviously his bare chest and the towel wrapped around his waist. His face flushed. “Might we have a moment alone?” His tone made the question offensive.

  Drake looked at Jelena.

  “Please?” Her eyes begged for—what? Understanding?

  He limped into the bedroom. Oh, he understood all right, but he didn’t intend to make it easy for them. Jelena was his now, at least until this was over, and he didn’t intend to share. Old Cordy had better just accept it, if he knew what was best for him.

  Chapter Eight

  “I CAN’T believe you’ve taken up with him.”

  Jelena jerked her head toward the closed bedroom door, thankful that Drake didn’t understand their language. “I haven’t taken up with him, but even if I had, it’s not your concern.”

  “No avari of mine—”

  “I’m not your avari.”

  “Our parents wish for us to wed.”

  “Then it’s a good thing that wishes aren’t law, because I refuse to bind my soul to a man who thinks he’s going to control every aspect of my life.”

  “I would never—”

  “You already have! You tried to take my assignment from me. When that didn’t work, you tried to forbid me from accepting it.”

  “I was trying to protect you. He’s dangerous. The people who want to harm him are dangerous. I don’t want you hurt.” He grabbed her arms and shook her. “Jelena, I love you. Don’t you see that?” />
  “Cordan, you’re hurting me. Let me go.”

  “Not until you promise me you’ll give up this foolishness.”

  “She asked you to let her go.” Drake’s low, warning voice sent a tremor through her body—and Cordan’s.

  He stood in the doorway of her bedroom, and the sight of him took her breath away. He’d left the flap on his black shirt unfastened. The bright blue lining she’d exchanged for the dreary gray matched his eyes just as she’d hoped.

  “Why don’t you mind your own—” Cordan’s mouth dropped open. “Ali’ra preserve us, it’s true.” He gripped Jelena’s arms again. “Give up this assignment and let the council deal with him.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “You may not have a choice. Be careful, Jelena.” He glanced meaningfully between her and Drake. “Remember Danon’s disgrace. Your family can’t afford another.”

  Lucky for him that he let go of her when he did, or Drake would have had to hurt him. Cordan must have realized that too, because he quickly backed to the door.

  “I will not be disgraced because I will not fail.” She flicked her little finger, slamming the door behind him, then glared at him from the window.

  Drake strode into the room. “Don’t stumble on your way out, Cordy boy,” he mumbled, imagining him tripping over a tree root and sprawling on his face in the dirt.

  Jelena gasped, and whirled to face him. “That wasn’t nice.”

  “What?”

  “He fell.”

  Drake limped to the window and laughed. Cordy didn’t look so pretty spitting dirt out of his mouth.

  She folded her arms in front of her.

  “Come on, you don’t really think I did that.”

  “I know you did. My front walk was marble.”

  It was dirt now, complete with tree roots, only the trees nearby weren’t large enough to have roots that stretched as far as her walk. “I didn’t do this.”

  “Yes, you did.” She waved her hand, transforming the rich brown dirt into a deep green marble swirled with black, then strode into the kitchen.

  Drake sat at the small table and watched her flutter around the room, pulling items from the pantry, shelves and drawers, and placing them on the table. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m getting you out of here.” She snapped her fingers and a drying towel became a pack.

  “Why?”

  “I thought you’d be safe here, but I was wrong.” She stashed everything into the pack.

  He grabbed her arm. “What’s going on?”

  “Do you want to die?”

  Drake jerked his hand away. “What kind of question is that?”

  “A very good one, I think.” She sat across from him. “I’m tired of having to work against you to keep you alive. Are you willing to help me? Or am I doing you a disservice by not handing you over to them? Maybe it would serve you better if I did drop this assignment.”

  He clenched his fists, sending a jolt of pain down his arm. It kept him focused. “You can do whatever you want.”

  “I want to help you.” She reached across the table to him but stopped short of touching his fingers.

  It would be so easy to meet her the rest of the way, but he knew that if he let her touch him, she would touch his heart. And her betrayal would kill him. “I don’t want to die,” he whispered. “But I don’t want you risking your life to protect me.”

  “The more I know about what I face, the less I risk.”

  Drake leaned back, stretching his sore leg out in front of him, and sighed. “How can I help?”

  “Remember when I told you there were evil forces that we must protect ourselves against?”

  He nodded.

  “They’re called Udaro, the dark ones. Zanera is Udaro.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I felt magic both times I saw her, but I didn’t connect it to her until I saw her lay hands on Jerrek.”

  Drake flinched.

  Jelena lurched forward, almost forgetting herself and grabbing his hand. “When did she lay hands on you?”

  He shook his head.

  “Drake, this is important!”

  When did she start calling him by his name?

  “It was during sex, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes,” he hissed through his teeth.

  “At the moment of climax?”

  “Yes.”

  Her face flushed. By her expression, her enthusiasm for solving the puzzle had faded. She wasn’t jealous.

  “I’ve heard it feels euphoric.” Her voice was barely a whisper. Maybe she was jealous.

  “It was at first, then it just felt wrong.” He looked away. “I tried to fight it.”

  “Your power must have given her quite a rush.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Her kind get their power by drawing on the life forces of others. That power is nearly quadrupled if they take it at the moment of climax.”

  Drake remembered the taking and shuddered.

  “The important thing to remember is that they can’t take from us unless we allow it. From others, yes, but not from us.”

  “She did before.”

  “You were willing, at first. And after, the containment spell must have hindered your ability to resist.”

  “What containment spell? Why do you include me in `us?’”

  “Ali’ra, you still don’t understand, do you?”

  “Understand what?”

  “You’re level five.”

  “You’re zapped.” A chill seeped into his bones.

  “I am completely sane. You saw that horrid tattoo was gone, but you didn’t see your eyes?” She grabbed a knife from the table and snapped her fingers, transforming it into a hand mirror.

  He stared at his image, unable to look away. His eyes sparkled as if they’d been sprinkled with silver glitter.

  “Do you never look into your own eyes?”

  He shook his head. He hadn’t done that in years, not since he’d made his first kill. “This isn’t possible.”

  “That’s what I thought, but the proof is right there.”

  He swallowed past the thickness in his throat. “How?”

  “Your birth mother was Nar’galira.”

  Gods, they’d actually done it. They’d found the Guardians’ city, and found them alive. That had to have been a shock. His old man obviously hadn’t wasted any time.

  Drake stilled. Wait a minute. “Was?”

  “She died a long time ago. You must have been sent to live with your father and his wife after.”

  After she died. Drake shook his head, shoving those thoughts aside. He didn’t want to know the details. But it actually explained a lot. His mother had always treated him as little more than Hastin’s pet. She’d never cared what he’d done to him, but gods’ help him if he made Hastin unhappy. She had her own brand of retribution for that.

  He cleared his throat. “So, this containment spell hid my magic from me and everyone else?”

  “Yes.”

  “What about Zanera? Do you think she knows?”

  “No. If she had sensed you were one of us, she probably would have killed you outright. I think she wants you because you survived what she did to you.”

  He nodded. It made sense. “So, what now?”

  She stared. “I can’t believe you’re calmly accepting this.”

  “Accepting what? That I’m half Nar’galira?”

  She nodded, her eyes narrowing.

  “I’ve seen him betray her, more than once.” Hell, he’d apprehended the man in a brothel. “I think I’d be more surprised not to find a dozen brothers and sisters waiting to meet me.” Drake nodded toward the living room. “I don’t, do I?”

  “Not to my knowledge.” She smiled. As she looked at him, her expression sobered and her teeth caught her upper lip. He had the urge to see if he could coax it free. “How are you feeling?”

  “Stiff, sore in a few places.” He rubbed his arm. “Not as ba
d as last night.”

  “Good. If you feel well enough, we’ll visit the amulet shop to buy you a charm then we’ll visit my brother. I think he knows of a place where we’ll be able to hide you from the council until we’ve dealt with Zanera.”

  “What do they want?”

  She shook her head. “We need to worry about Zanera.”

  “Does she know about this place?”

  “No. We’ve kept our location a secret from the Udaro.”

  “Then she’s not a threat to us here. What about the council?” He’d never seen Jelena afraid before, but she was now. He wanted to know why.

  “They’re terrified of you,” she whispered. “I’ve never seen them order a man destroyed sight unseen, but they did exactly that when they felt your magic unleashed.”

  “So I have a death sentence on my head?”

  “They’re afraid that you won’t be able to control your power, or worse, that you will become Udaro.” A delicate tremor ran through her body. “Enola convinced them to let you be taught.”

  Drake narrowed his gaze. “That’s why you want me to hide? Because they want to train me?”

  “Yes! They chose the master of the Nar’gadem, the Executioners. His methods are barbaric. You won’t survive long enough to learn the control the council expects.”

  Her lack of faith in him hurt. He didn’t know why, but it did. “They obviously planned that.” His voice was nearly a whisper.

  “Exactly. That’s why we need to get you away. Maybe Danon and I can teach you enough to protect yourself.”

  “No.”

  “What?”

  “I won’t run.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “If I fail, I die, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “That sounds a hell of a lot better than whatever Zanera has in mind for me.”

  “But—”

  “No buts. I won’t hide.”

  “Stubborn man.”

  He nodded. “You know it.”

  Jelena sighed, deciding to let it go for now. “Are you hungry? I’ve got some nice roasted challon. I can dice it up with some tubers and make a tasty hash.” Her favorite morning meal. Her mouth watered just anticipating the delicious smells of it cooking.

  He shook his head. “I don’t eat meat.”