Real Magic

by Lissa Michaels

  Another betrayal. The first one. Gods, he hadn’t seen it coming. Not even a clue. “I should let you die,” he whispered.

  But he wouldn’t. His death would hurt too many people.

  Drake placed his right palm on Tremaine’s cool brow, the other over his weak heart. The healing warmth of his power built within him and flowed from his glowing hands into Tremaine’s body. The glow spread until the white light suffused his entire body.

  The gray pallor faded from Tremaine’s skin, returning to its rich golden hue. His hair darkened and became fuller. His cheeks filled out and firmed, as did the rest of his body. His rattling breath caught in his throat, and his eyes flew open.

  Drake pulled his hands away and turned toward the door. He’d done all he could anyway.

  “Drake, son, is that you?”

  He stiffened. Those were words he’d longed for all his life, words that were meaningless now. When the light flipped on, Drake turned to face him.

  Tremaine stared at the hand he’d used to turn on the light—his strong, normal hand—and jerked his gaze to Drake. His eyes widened. “You’ve been to Coriandros,” he whispered.

  “Yeah, I’ve been to Coriandros.” Drake turned and opened the ancient wood door.

  “Let me explain.”

  “What’s there to say?” He strode out of the room, closing the door on Tremaine’s hoarse plea. “Damn it.”

  Morgan rounded the corner, nearly smacking right into him. He jerked back, startled. “Drake! Gods, we thought you were—” He shook his head. “We heard you were dead.”

  “Too bad, huh? Would have solved a lot of problems.”

  “You bastard.” Morgan grabbed his arm. “Galen’s tearing himself up over you. He thinks he got you killed.”

  Seeing the pain in Morgan’s eyes, Drake’s anger deflated. He rubbed his hand over his face. “I’m sorry.”

  “Where the hell have you been?”

  “With Jelena.” He sighed. “It’s a long story.”

  “Dad’s dying. He’s been asking for you.”

  For the first time, Drake noticed just how haggard his friend appeared. A fist twisted in his gut. Not friend, brother. He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I saw him. Don’t worry, he’ll be fine.” He walked past Morgan. He had to get out of here. Now.

  Morgan grabbed his arm.

  “I can’t do this now.”

  “Drake?”

  The muscles beneath Morgan’s hand hardened to steel as he jerked his gaze over Drake’s shoulder toward his father’s voice. He didn’t know what shocked him more, seeing Dad on his feet or the anguish in Drake’s eyes turning to anger.

  “Let me go, Morgan,” Drake whispered. “Please.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Home.”

  Morgan blinked, and his hand grasped at air. Drake was gone.

  He strode toward his father, who clung weakly to the doorframe. “As long as I’ve known Drake, I’ve never heard him beg—not for anything. What the hell happened?”

  Tremaine drew a deep breath and released it slowly. “It’s a long story.”

  “I have the time.” Morgan helped his father to bed. He was weak, but damned if he didn’t look like his old self.

  He glanced over his shoulder at the empty doorway and shook his head. Drake couldn’t have—

  “Where is he?” Jelena stood there, her worried gaze darting around the room.

  “You just missed him.”

  “Do you know where he went?”

  “Home, to Trakis.”

  She nodded then popped out of sight just as quickly as Drake had—Morgan stilled. Drake hadn’t used his transporter cuff. What the hell was going on?

  “Who was she?”

  Morgan looked at his father. “Drake’s Guardian.”

  Tremaine sat up, something he hadn’t been able to do without help for weeks now. “Dear gods,” he whispered, eyes clenched, his face twisting in pain.

  “Are you all right?” Morgan reached for the com. “I’ll call the doc.”

  “No.” Tremaine grabbed his arm in a surprisingly strong grip. “Where’s your mother?”

  “In the nursery playing with the boys.” Morgan dragged his fingers through his hair. “When are you going to tell me what the hell is going on? What’s wrong with Drake?”

  “After I’ve spoken with your mother.”

  JELENA FOUND Drake on the west battlements of his castle, staring into the gray mists surrounding his island. He gripped the stone wall, his body trembling. He sensed her presence and stiffened. He didn’t want her here, but she couldn’t leave.

  She placed her hands on the wall next to his. He glanced at her and, when she looked into his eyes, she saw pain, yes, but also rage—a deep, heart-felt rage.

  She glanced at the sky and saw the same gray mist that surrounded his castle. That surprised her. She expected black storm clouds, thunder and lightening, not this… nothingness.

  He turned away from her gaze and stared into the mist. “I’m not going to bring the sky down on your head, if that’s what you’re worried about.” His low, quiet voice was devoid of emotion.

  “I’m worried about you.”

  “I’m fine.” His fingers curled into tight fists.

  “No you’re not. You’re not fine at all.” She slowly placed her hand over his. Her fingers brushed the warm silver cuff.

  He didn’t pull away. When he spoke, his voice was so quiet that she had to struggle to hear him over the light breeze. “It didn’t have to happen.”

  “What didn’t?” All she’d been able to gather from Enola was that the man she’d entrusted with Drake’s life hadn’t raised him.

  “My life…any of it. My real father”—his voice cracked—“gave me to Hastin, Jelena. Paid that bastard to take me off his hands. Do you have any idea how that feels?”

  Of course she didn’t. She couldn’t. All she could do was listen as he finally let go of all the pain, the suffering that could have been avoided if his father had acknowledged him instead of handing him off to an abusive monster. It all came rushing out.

  She held tight as he sank to his knees and wrapped his arms around her. Unable to stop her tears, she cradled his head against her breasts and listened. So much pain, so much suffering. How could one person bear so much and go on with his life?

  Gods preserve, how could she ever have thought this man had no heart? He had one, and the poor thing had been broken again and again, shattered into a million pieces, by the people he loved. Every time he managed to pick up the scattered pieces and go on with his life, someone broke it again.

  “The killing, my past, none of it had to happen.”

  “I know,” Jelena whispered. “I know.” She slid her fingers into his hair and gently stroked his scalp.

  His breath caught in his throat, his body shuddered and chill bumps rose on his skin. As she let the silky strands of his hair slip through her fingers, his fingers tightened on her waist, and when she slid them into his hair, he shuddered again.

  “Feel good?” She whispered.

  “Gods, Jelena. You have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

  “Tell me.”

  The passion, the utter ecstasy in his eyes when he raised his head, sent her heart thundering against her ribs, spreading liquid warmth through her veins. That’s why he never allowed her to touch his hair. It was a pleasure zone for him, and he was the type of man that always had to be in control of himself, even during sex.

  His stare held her prisoner as he slowly, sensuously, rose to his feet. He towered over her and the heat of his gaze threatened to set her aflame. She reached her hand out to touch him and hesitated, her palm hovering near his heart.

  “Do you want me?” The question was so full of hope—and pain.

  “Yes, I want you.” She covered his mouth with her hand before he asked the question she knew would follow. “All of you.” Ali’ra, she did. She wanted everything.

  He stared deep into he
r eyes then laced his fingers through hers, his rough palm warm on the back of her hand, and pressed her palm against the smooth warmth of his chest.

  They were so lost in each other that neither of them saw the luminous blue and purple threads twine around their joined hands, tangling, glowing, before they smoothed into one gold, unbroken thread and disappeared.

  “I love you, Jelena,” he whispered. Before her brain had time to fully register his words, he pressed his lips against hers.

  She sighed, sliding her arms around his neck, and in the next moment he lowered her onto his soft mattress.

  “Very handy thing, this magic,” he whispered against her throat.

  “I agree.” She arched her neck, giving his wandering lips easier access to her sensitive skin, and flicked her finger. Their clothes disappeared. His warm silky skin against hers drew a gasp of pleasure from her.

  He chuckled. “When you decide you want something, you don’t waste any time, do you?”

  “No.” Her throaty whisper had just as much an affect on Drake as her fingers once again sliding into his hair.

  Dear gods. Her soft, seeking lips cut off his low groan. She was hesitant at first, but when he didn’t pull away, she grew bolder, deepening her kiss, teasing him with soft nips and sensuous strokes while her hands explored his body. Her breathy gasps and moans told him that touching him pleased her as much as it did him.

  Gods, he wanted this. And for once, there would be no holding back. She could do whatever the hell she wanted to him, and he wouldn’t stop her. It took every bit of his strength just to keep from plunging into her and taking them both straight to heaven.

  He didn’t want that. Not yet. He felt as if he’d been waiting his whole life for this, and he wouldn’t have it over before it began. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t take her to heaven a time or two before he joined her.

  Drake loved his way down Jelena’s body with his heavenly mouth and hands. His silky hair followed his path, compounding the exquisite sensations making her tremble in ecstasy. No part of her body remained untouched, no part unloved, but there was nothing shocking or embarrassing about the things he did to her.

  He loved her. It showed in every touch, every caress, every kiss. Tears filled her eyes. They fell one after another from the corners of her eyes and trickled into her hair.

  A delicious tension coiled in her belly, quickly twisting tighter and tighter until it consumed her entire body. “Drake?”

  “It’s all right, Jelena,” he whispered against her belly. “Just let go.” He lifted his head, just high enough to meet her gaze, and just like that she shattered into a billion pieces.

  She wanted more. She’d waited nearly half her life for this, dreamed of it in glorious detail. Her dreams didn’t compare. But it wasn’t enough. She wouldn’t settle for anything less than all he had to give her. And she wanted it, needed it, now.

  “Ali’ra preserve!” She gripped his shoulders, her nails biting into his skin—a pain he treasured every bit as much as he did her sweet kisses. “Drake, now. Please, now.”

  He slid into her honeyed warmth but, before he could savor the achingly sweet pleasure of being inside her, pain tore through his lower abdomen. “Dear Gods,” he gasped.

  “What’s wrong?” The tightness of her tone drew his head to gaze into her pain-glazed eyes.

  “You’ve never done this before, have you?”

  She shook her head. Her lower lip quivered until her small, even white teeth caught it.

  “As beautiful as you are, in all your twenty-six years—”

  “Twenty-eight.”

  He nodded. “You’ve never had the opportunity to—”

  “There were many opportunities.” Her eyes shimmered with pain-induced tears. “I waited for you.”

  Humble didn’t even come close to describing what he felt right now. She shifted her hips, trying to ease the uncomfortable tightness. A fresh stab of pain knifed through their loins, making her gasp and him groan.

  “Gods, don’t move. Just be still.” His arms trembled, but the rest of his body remained absolutely still.

  “You feel my discomfort?”

  “Discomfort? Sweetheart, I pray I’ll never feel what you’d call pain.” He took a deep shuddering breath and let it out slowly. “Gods, I swear I’ll never bed a virgin again as long as I live. I’ve never felt—” His body went rigid, startling a gasp from her parted lips.

  Wait a minute.

  He mentally searched his consciousness for the short knotted blue thread that represented what was left of his black soul and found a thick glowing gold thread with no end in sight. Dear gods, he’d done it. He’d bonded with her. That’s why he felt her pain.

  “Damn,” he whispered and rested his forehead against hers.

  “If it’s too much, we could stop.”

  He chuckled softly. “Sweetheart, you are something else.” He trailed his lips down her soft cheek. “You hurt so bad you can hardly breathe, and you’re worried about how I feel?”

  He closed his eyes and used the trick Kedar taught him. Drawing in his power, he located the bright orange pain in his mind, bound it tight and released it, healing them both.

  “It doesn’t hurt now,” she whispered and shifted her hips, drawing him deeper into her warmth, sending an exquisite tremor of pleasure through his entire body—pleasure they shared.

  He moved slowly, testing, careful not to hurt her more. Soon, she writhed beneath him. Their joining, their combined pleasure was the most incredible thing he’d ever experienced.

  His pleasure melded with Jelena’s, enhancing every sensation, even the slightest tingle, creating a feeling so vibrant, so intense that she couldn’t find the words to describe it. And as their loving took them over the edge of the physical, into the realms of heaven, tears filled her eyes from the sheer beauty off it all.

  After one final stroke, Drake rolled to his side and snuggled her against him, his arms around her.

  “Is it always like that?” Her tone was awed as she trailed her fingertips over his chest. His heart still pounded against his ribs.

  He shook his head. “We’ll never feel anything quite like that again. This was special. We bonded.”

  Jelena gasped. “You—”

  “I’ve put my heart and soul into your hands.” His warm lips kissed her palm, then he lay her hand on his chest. The look in his eyes told her that he trusted her not to harm either one.

  “Oh, Drake,” she whispered. “I love you.” She tensed, waiting for his reaction to the words she hadn’t meant to say.

  He sighed and nuzzled his chin against her temple. He’d already drifted off to sleep.

  She slipped her hand behind his neck, her fingers sliding into his soft hair, and just hugged him to her. Ali’ra preserve, he’d done it. He’d bonded himself to her.

  After all the betrayals he’d suffered, she never thought he would ever consider bonding with a woman. She never thought he’d trust a woman that much. But he’d done it, and the thought was so humbling she wanted to cry.

  She did cry.

  Chapter Fourteen

  DRAKE WOKE with Jelena’s warm, naked body in his arms, something he wouldn’t mind feeling every morning for the rest of his days. He glanced at the chronometer on the bedside table across from him. He’d slept over fourteen hours, more than half a Federation Standard day. He hadn’t slept much in the last few days and not sleeping always caught up with him. Finding Jelena still beside him surprised him.

  He’d expected to find her gone. Especially after what happened last night. He’d never broken down like that before, not even when he was a kid.

  The memories, the pain, resurfaced but he immediately tamped them down. He’d dwelled on them enough last night. Besides, he had better things to think about, like the beautiful lady in his arms.

  He rubbed his cheek against the silky tresses draped across his pillow, and sighed. Her being here was a balm for his soul. She couldn’t possibly know how
much it meant just having her close.

  “Mmm… What time is it?” She nuzzled her face against his chest like a sleepy cub.

  “That depends on which clock you follow.”

  One heavy eyelid opened to peer at him. “Hmm?”

  “Here, it’s almost dawn. In your city, it’s about midday.”

  He stroked his palm down her back and knew the instant she came fully awake, the instant she remembered what happened yesterday. She stiffened, catching her bottom lip with her teeth, and eased away from him. He should have known it wouldn’t last.

  “You regret it?” he whispered.

  She shook her head. “You might.”

  “Why?”

  “I misled you.”

  Drake tensed. “How?”

  She rubbed her finger over the sparkling zircon star set in the cabochon on his cuff. “When you put this on your wrist, you agreed to wed with me.”

  He sat up, putting some distance between them. What was she saying? He had to be reading too much into it. He kept his expression carefully blank. “You said it was for protection.”

  Keeping her gaze on the bed, Jelena pulled the sheet over her breasts and leaned against the thick wood headboard. “It will shield your magic from others in much the same way as Enola’s containment spell did. But, Master Kedar saw you accept it from me. He told the council I offered for you.”

  “Tell them it was a mistake.”

  She jerked her gaze to him. “My grandfather is on the council. By now, he’s told my family. Knowing my mother, she has already contacted Enola about the feast.” Jelena sighed, shaking her head. “I shouldn’t have had the charm made into a cuff. It should have been a medallion, but I didn’t think you’d wear it.”

  “I don’t wear anything around my neck.” His tone was low and emotionless. Inside he was dying. “I won’t provide anyone with the means to strangle me. Tell them that. Tell them it was a cuff or nothing.”

  “I told them he was correct, that I offered for you.”

  “Why?”

  Her face flooded with color then she turned her gaze away from him and stared at the stone wall. “Because I want to wed you,” she whispered.