BLOOD MAGIC

by Jennifer Lyon

She raised her chin. “I'll always fight back.”

  His gaze pinned her. “I'm thirty-two, Darcy. I've fought this curse since I was fourteen. Self-control is what I live by every day. I won't slip that easily and cut you. But when you run, it whips out my hunter instincts and I'm on you before I can think.”

  She dropped her eyes, down the flat of his stomach to his jeans. His erection was still thick, twitching as she looked at him. That reaction wasn't about her blood, but sex. She jerked her head to the side, looking away from him. Away from her confusion.

  Disgust roughened his voice further. “Christ. I wouldn't have forced you to have sex.”

  Flushing, she tried to move away.

  Axel's hand caught her arm. “Look at me.”

  She refused to be a coward and lifted her eyes to his. His hand was warm and firm on her arm, but not too tight. “What?”

  He touched her face with his other hand. “I can smell your desire.”

  Her heart kicked in her chest. “You're lying.”

  His voice slid to creamy. “Honey, your scent tells me everything about you. You use herbal shampoo, citrus lotion, fabric softener. What I can't get the scent of is any sign of sex on you in a very long time.” He softened his voice. “Just need.”

  Of course he'd know what shampoo and lotion she used, he'd brought them to her from her apartment. And yet, she couldn't stand still, couldn't bear the feel of even her clothes rubbing against her. Turning, she tossed the cell phone on the rumpled covers of the bed and said, “Stop it.”

  He pulled her closer to him. “Stop what?”

  She jerked from his hold and rubbed her palms over her arms, trying to beat back the sensations tormenting her. “It was bad enough with mortal men. They didn't know what I was, but during sex they sensed something, or felt something, and it scared them. It made me feel like a freak. That was bad enough.” She hated the memories. “But it'd be worse with you. You know what I am, and you …” Shut up! She told herself.

  “I what?” he asked softly.

  She whirled around and glared at him. “You hate what I am. And I'd feel it. Emotions that release when a man comes …” She had to suck in a breath at the sheer weight of it. She didn't want to feel that from him. “I'd feel it.” She would not let herself open up sexually to a man who hated what she was, hated that her blood and power could turn him into a monster. Every single time she'd tried a relationship, and sex, then felt the rejection, something in her had died off. Hope. The hope that someone out there would love and accept her as she was. She didn't have enough left to risk.

  Axel's face shifted and, for a second, she thought she saw the wings move through his emerald-colored eyes. “I don't hate you, Darcy. I don't hate what you are.”

  Frowning at the change in him, she answered, “You do.” His warmth was drawing her closer to him, closer to something she couldn't name but that she wanted very much, something that made her think if she could just grasp it, she would be whole. She was coming to respect Axel, his fight to stand against the curse, his love for his sister and his mom. But she didn't want to feel this. It scared her.

  He shook his head. “No. I hate the curse inside of me. Not you. And I hate that those pissant little cowards calling themselves men hurt you. Do you know why they ran away scared?”

  Her stomach clenched. “Because they sensed the witch in me.” Her dad had always said she was evil. Or that she brought the bad things like her mom's lupus flare-ups.

  “They sensed your power. They know at some instinctive level that you are more powerful than them. Women like you, witches, have always scared mortal men.”

  He had her attention. “But not you?”

  “I'm not scared of you. I'm afraid of losing control of the curse in me, but I am not afraid of you. Right now, I can see your witch-shimmer making your skin glisten a brilliant gold with shots of silver. It doesn't scare me, it makes me hot to touch you all the way to the very core of your power.”

  Was that true? What if making love with Axel was different? What if he didn't think it was abnormal to want wild and uncensored sex? To need him so deeply inside of her that she was overwhelmed?

  He ran his hands lightly up and down her arms. “It's no different for me. When I have sex with mortal women, I have to hold back. I have to hide what I am.”

  Damn it. She felt the sheer truth of that. His emotional weight was heavy, heavier than her own. The only way she could bear it was his hands on her skin—the contact made her feel stronger, more sure. What was this? Her heart thudded in her chest, making her breathless, while desire made her skin hot, yet her nipples swelled and pebbled. He was making her too vulnerable. “Axel …”

  He lowered his head, touching his mouth to her ear. “Your scent is tantalizing, mouthwatering. I want to taste you.”

  His words created feathering sensations, ripples of pleasure she could hardly bear. Need was rising to overshadow her common sense. Her chakras were opening, not to draw power from the earth, but to draw him into her. As if he were some essential part of her. It was too much. “Axel.” She reached up to hold on to his shoulders. He had her pressed up to the wall, his body surrounding her. And yet, she could feel that self-control in the taut muscles beneath her fingers. She turned her head to look at him.

  He looked down into her eyes. “Taste you,” he said, in a low, rough voice, followed by his mouth skimming hers.

  Darcy couldn't stop him. Didn't want to. She turned into the kiss.

  Axel wrapped an arm around her, lifting her away from the wall and settling her so that she straddled his thigh. He shifted his hand down to her waist, sliding under her tank to cup her breast.

  She arched into his hand, desperate for his touch.

  Then he opened his mouth, his tongue invading her with his flavor. Pure Axel, strong and hot, with a trace of beer. Her heart pounded against his fingers caressing her breast. His hand on her lower back urged her closer. His tongue mated with hers, a slow, deep, wet slide that swelled her folds pressing against his thigh. Every part of her body that touched him burned. And every part that didn't touch him ached.

  “Darcy? Are you there?” A digitalized female voice called out.

  Axel jerked his hand out of her top, and growled low in his chest, “I will kill her. Swear to God, I'll find out who Crone is and kill her. Hang on.” He set her on her feet. “I'll close the laptop.”

  Darcy missed the contact with him, missed the feel of his hand on her breast, his mouth on hers, and his thick thigh between her legs. But common sense finally surfaced. “No, Axel. Let me talk to her. We only have five days.”

  He took a breath, nodded, and shifted to the side to let her by.

  She ran to the bed, scooping the computer off the floor. The Crone avatar looked back at her; was that censure in her eyes? Did she know she and Axel had been making out?

  “Darcy, are you okay?”

  “Yes, but we're running out of time. Five days until the waxing gibbous moon.”

  Crone nodded. “I know.”

  She'd been thinking about this, and she had questions. “What's the difference between an earth witch and a demon witch?”

  “All witches are born as earth witches. According to our history, some witches figured out they could summon a demon.”

  “Why would they want that?”

  “Two reasons: more power and the ability to bypass witch karma. There's no witch karma attached to a demon's powers. A few witches experimented with summoning demons and negotiating for harmful powers. Each time an earth witch performs a summoning, her soul is marked by the demon and witch karma is bypassed. The more curses or demon magic a witch uses, or the darker the curse, the bigger the price on her soul. Eventually, the demon will own the witch's entire soul, making her a demon witch.”

  “What does the demon get?”

  The Crone avatar's mouth pulled into a tight line. “Earth witches had the power to banish demons. Since the curse, it's much more difficult and dangerous for witche
s to do it. Anything a demon can do to get us out of the way is good for them.”

  “So that's what the curse on hunters and witches was about?” Darcy asked. “Getting us out of the way so demons could have access to earth?”

  “Yes. The demon witches were doing what their demon wanted by capturing the hunters. They managed to get one of them to renounce the Wing Slayer, and that set up a loophole for the witches to cast the curse.”

  Darcy lifted her gaze to Axel. He stood behind the screen of the laptop, close enough that she could feel his body heat on her bare knees. His green eyes glittered with anger as he said, “All hunters knew the risk. We were given immortality and tremendous strength, as well as a high tolerance to pain, and in exchange, we were to never renounce the Wing Slayer. Two of the captured hunters endured torture, refused to renounce the Wing Slayer and the demon finally killed them. But one renounced him. The coward.”

  Carla dragged her attention back by saying, “Do you see how dangerous demon witches are? The one who cursed Hannah is going to come after you. When you try to undo her curse, she'll know and she'll come after you to kill you.”

  She didn't look at Axel, didn't want to show him her fear of the demon witch. “I can't think about that right now.” She had finally figured out who she was and what her purpose was. She couldn't walk away.

  Crone's image on the screen vibrated with fury. “You think Axel's going to protect you? If, and it's a big if, you can heal his sister, he'll toss you out. His sister's life isn't worth the price of hunting down and killing the demon witch, so why would your life be worth it?”

  Hot regret and pain rose inside her. She lifted her gaze to his fiercely determined green eyes. The truth stared back at her—he only had her there to heal his sister. She was a threat to him, to his soul.

  “Don't listen to her. I'll figure something out.”

  “Like locking me in a dungeon for the rest of my life?” She couldn't listen to his empty words, nor would she be shut away for the rest of her life, however long that would be. She focused on Carla on the laptop screen. “First I heal Hannah, then I will concentrate on surviving. Let's keep working.” She purposely shut Axel out. She had to, she couldn't be seduced into believing he cared for her when he really just needed her for Hannah.

  “Darcy, I'll find a place for you.” His voice was harsh and commanding.

  She nodded, but didn't look up. “Fine, go do that. I need to work.” She heard him walk out.

  Carla sighed, and said, “I'm afraid for you if you trust him. You know that, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You'll be okay? I have to go take care of some work. I'm also going to talk to the other witches and see what they know about communicating with the Ancestors. I'll check back in a little bit.”

  She nodded, then Carla vanished.

  Darcy was alone. Again.

  “I talked to some of the witches.”

  Darcy lost control of the books she was levitating off the shelves in Axel's office. Five books thumped to the floor. “Car—” She clamped her jaw shut. Even though no one was currently down on the dungeon floor or on the wide screen, someone could be listening. She looked up to see that the Crone avatar had taken over Axel's flat screen. “Don't sneak up on me like that!” She was edgy, sore, and damned tired of being banished to the lower floor. Even talking to Joe with the cell phone Axel had given her hadn't calmed her irritability.

  Crone ignored that. “They all agree that it's highly possible that the Ancestors are trying to reach you.”

  The murmur in her head seemed to agree. Excitement bubbled inside Darcy. All of her life, she hadn't known why she didn't fit in or where she belonged. But now she was finding out. “They'll let me onto the witch loops?”

  “It's called Circle Witches, Darcy. Not loops. Earth witches circle their powers to strengthen one another where we can. And they can't let you on. Not yet, not while you're living and working with a witch hunter.”

  The disappointment filled her throat. Looking away, she focused on a book lying on the floor. She reached out a hand, summoned power through her chakras, and tried to lift the book back to the bookshelf.

  The book shot across the room, skidded a path across Axel's desk, and slammed into the wall. It left a dent the size of a salad plate.

  “You lost control. It takes mind, body, and chakra connection to keep control. You can't let your emotions shatter your connection. That's how rogue hunters get control of us—enough cuts will snap our connection to our powers and close our chakras.”

  Not in the mood for another lecture, she turned and glared at the screen. “Bite me.”

  “Darcy, I'm sorry. It's not fair that they aren't letting you into the Circle, but they are cautious from experience. You're living with a witch hunter …”

  “I'm a prisoner in his basement!” And in spite of what Axel said about not being afraid of her, he was. He was afraid of her. Why did she have to feel hawk wings when he touched her? That just made it worse. The hawk wings that always came to her as a child rejected her now.

  “Then stop being a prisoner. Stop feeling sorry for yourself and use your powers.”

  She was being a bitch to the one person trying to help her. “Sorry, I'm just … sorry.” Taking a breath, she directed her magic to the book she'd just flung across the room. Concentrating, she returned it to the bookshelf.

  Then she returned the four other books.

  “He's getting to you.”

  “It's the hawk. I feel a connection to Axel's hawk tattoo. Maybe I am crazy. Not a witch but just plain old crazy.”

  Silence, then finally Crone said, “I'd be crazy, too, if I was locked up, kept away from the earth elements. You need to get outside, feel the air, the sun, the moon. Just feel it. It feeds our chakras and our souls.”

  Darcy looked at the avatar of her friend. “Thanks. You're right and I will find a way to get outside.” She refocused herself. “What else did the witch loop, uh, the Circle Witches say?”

  “Two things. First, you should try to call a familiar and see what happens.”

  “How do I do that?”

  “It's a loose ceremony. You go out at night, under the light of the moon, and ask the Ancestors to send you a familiar.”

  “I don't just pick some animal?”

  Crone shook her head. “No. It's a very close relationship. The animal must agree. They will come to you. Then you take something silver, and magically imprint their likeness on that silver and always wear it close to, or on your body. It's a symbol of a soul bond.”

  “Silver.” She reached up and touched her necklace. She supposed she could imprint the image of her familiar there.

  “You'll have to open your fifth chakra to do it. That's where the magic to bond with your familiar comes from. The moon should help you … if it can be done.”

  It all felt overwhelming. “But no witch has succeeded in calling a familiar since the curse?”

  “Not that we know of. They've certainly tried, but they've all failed.”

  “Have you tried?”

  “Once. Before …” She trailed off. “A long time ago. I can open my fifth chakra though. It can be done.”

  She nodded and left Carla alone about when she had tried to call her familiar. “What's the second thing?”

  “To do the spell, you'll need your witch book.”

  Darcy dropped her hand from her silver necklace. “I don't have a witch book.”

  Crone's face softened in sympathy. “It's passed down from mother to daughter. You're adopted, so that's a problem.”

  “My mom registered me at a biological-parent search agency before she died.”

  Crone shook her head, her eyes brighter than usual. “I think you probably already have the witch book. Think. Your biological mother would have known you'd need it one day, Darcy. She would have left it with you even if she gave you up for adoption.” Crone leaned forward until her face filled the screen. “I know she did.”

&nb
sp; What was Carla trying to tell her? Something her biological mom left with her, something …

  “Oh!” Of course. Carla had seen it a hundred times.

  “We have to go to my apartment.”

  Axel snapped out of his slumber and leapt to his feet. Darcy stood in the archway between his bedroom and his bathroom. “What are you doing up here?”

  “I'm done being kept in the dungeon. But that's not the point.”

  He ran a hand through his hair. “It's exactly the point. I had the door to the bottom floor locked.” He'd slept maybe two hours. Three? He hadn't gotten home until nearly five this morning, then he'd had the conversation with Darcy that ended so well. After that he spent the next couple hours looking for safe places for Darcy and trying to locate demon witches. Her voice cut into his racing thoughts.

  “I unlocked them.”

  He saw the witch-glow on her skin brighten with pride. It shoved back the remainder of his sleep-fog. “Damn it, Darcy. You can't startle me awake like that. I could have smelled the power in your blood and lost control before I was fully awake.”

  “Stop arguing. I need something out of my apartment.”

  He sucked in a breath. Obviously he wasn't going back to sleep. “Tell me what you need and I'll get it.”

  “I'm going with you.” She dropped her gaze down his length, then added, “Put some clothes on.”

  He'd slept in his boxers. “Honey, you're the one who stormed into my bedroom.” He walked over to his dresser and yanked out a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. “What do you need from your apartment?” He pulled on the jeans.

  “A tapestry. My biological mother left it with me when she gave me up for adoption. I think it's her witch book.”

  He pulled the T-shirt over his head and turned to her. “What's a witch book?”

  She jerked her eyes up from his stomach. “Family spells passed down from generations of witches.”

  “Okay. It's the tapestry over the fireplace?” He'd seen it when he'd gotten stuff for her out of the apartment the first night. He walked past her into his closet, and shoved his feet into a pair of shoes.