Feral Magic: An Urban Fantasy Romance-Thriller

by Nicolette Jinks

“Fera, wake up. It's not real. Wake up.”

  I jerked away, pain searing through my muscles and down my spine. Arms and legs wrapped around me in a hard hug, tightening when I flinched. My heart raced, every beat a fresh agony. I writhed, he held firmer. I didn't know where I was or who held me. Then I smelled black pepper and spice, heard a man's low voice murmuring my full name.

  “Leothwaceh.”

  The word was familiar. The voice was Mordon's. Sharp pains in my body lessened to an ache. My muscles went lax. My heart still rammed at a too-fast tempo, but the burning pain was tolerable.

  “Leothwaceh,” he whispered again.

  The pain in my chest fled so suddenly I sobbed with relief.

  “Fera?”

  “It hurts.”

  “Are you awake?”

  I nodded, tried to conceal a strangled gasp. Sweat turned cold.

  “Get up.”

  “Why?” I sat up and put my arm down onto something firm yet squishy. It growled, and I remembered that I was in the colony and everyone slept on the floor of the mead hall until repairs were done. Several people were moving, disturbed from their dreams.

  Quietly, I followed Mordon out of the hall littered with sleeping bodies.

  In the night air, I shivered and clutched my blanket.

  Another bit of memory, not just a nightmare. Funny how I hadn't considered what it would be like to actually witness that part of my lost days.

  A breeze made me shudder.

  “How do you hurt?”

  “Oh, it's gone now.” I rubbed my chest where I'd felt my heart sear. “I'm sorry. I didn't know I was going to have that happen tonight. I didn't think I would get any other memories from Caerwyn's Recallation. What a scene to make. They'll all think I'm crazy.”

  “The others will understand.” Mordon wrapped me up in a warm hug, rubbing up and down my arms.

  “You'd get better sleep without me.”

  “I don't prefer to sleep alone. I prefer you with me. What hurt you in the dream?”

  I wasn't sure that I wanted to go back there yet. I said simply, “I died.”

  He was silent for a minute, holding me a bit closer, a bit tighter. When he spoke, his voice was strained. “Tell me how.”

  I was having a hard time breathing. “It doesn't really matter.”

  “It matters to me. You were murdered and I need to know how.”

  What chilled me most was how he said it, so collected and commanding. It felt strangely final to hear it in words.

  “Why do you need to know?”

  “Because I care.”

  That tone. It was the one I used when I wasn't going to accept no for an answer. It was what had kept me pressing on when I thought I should give up. It was one thing Mordon and I shared in equal measure.

  Heaven forbid we ever lock horns.

  “The last thing I remember was when he lowered his wand. It hurt. It hurt so bad. My veins felt like fire, and my heart like it was being cut out. Why? Why would I feel that now if it happened in the past?”

  “You feel pain in dreams, the same as everything else.” Mordon tucked the tail of the blanket under my arm. “The spell must have attacked your heart directly. It would be clean, efficient. Near instantaneous.”

  “Not split-second?”

  “You'd have been able to move for a very short time.”

  “I don't get it. How did I get free?”

  “The walking corpse Barnes was in pursuit of was very quick to use an Earhart compass exactly like yours. I don't suppose you had that on hand?”

  “I never go anywhere without it.” I would have shown it to him as it hung about my neck tonight, but I was too wrapped up. “You think that was how I made my getaway?”

  “You had limited options.”

  “Huh.” A tickle of breath on my cheek made me relax. “You're getting to know me too well. I must be predictable if you can guess what I'd do when you've known me for such a short time.”

  “I feel like I've known you much longer.”

  “Me, too.”

  “The drakes have a saying. My heart speaks to your heart. It means that people can talk without using voices.”

  “Do you believe it?”

  “Yes. It is said that two hearts must speak as one before a pair can be one of blood, one of mind, and one of bone.” He paused, rocking gently back and forth. “Think you can sleep?”

  “No.” I kissed his hand resting on my shoulder. His fingers curled. I scraped my teeth over his knuckles.

  “No?” he asked.

  I tugged my hair off my neck, exposing bare skin.

  “And what,” he asked in my ear, “do you want me to do with this?”

  A finger trailed down my neck.

  I gasped. Shut up and kiss me, I didn't have the breath to say.

  “As you wish,” he said and pressed his lips to mine in a long kiss under the open skies.