by Casey Lane
In a frantic attempt to locate her, Sloan eased up on the rain and strained his eyes.
His heart stopped when he finally caught sight of Dara again, in time to see a Takahashi witch wave his hand and a massive boulder go flying toward his wife.
He screamed for Anna to blow the boulder off its deadly course, but it was too late. It crashed into her, knocking her to the ground and crushing her under its weight.
His heart was trying to pound its way out of his chest by the time he stumbled to a stop next to his wife. He redirected his water jet and managed to push the boulder off Dara but she didn’t move. Instinctively, he knew she was already gone.
A different kind of pain, not physical but still as potent, hit him and he dropped to his knees and examined her. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her abdomen, which was surely mangled beyond belief. There was no way she could have survived, but he searched for a pulse anyway. Nothing.
Desperate for any thread of hope, Sloan threw up a wall of water to surround them and shuffled to her side, ready to administer CPR.
He regretted his actions as soon as he pressed his palms to her chest and his hands sank farther into her flesh than they ever should have.
There wasn’t even a word to describe the murderous wrath that swamped him. Letting the wall drop, Sloan surged to his feet and threw his arms in the air. He didn’t even attempt to control his magic. Instead, he let it flow unchecked, allowing it to grow and evolve, until it seemed to have a life of its own.
His magic collided suddenly with Anna’s. The resulting storm was truly terrifying but he didn’t care. He had enough sense in the face of his grief to make sure none of his own clan were harmed. Anna seemed to have the same thought because Raven and Leith were only damp and relatively unruffled.
When it was over, there was no sign of either the Takahashi or the Keita clans, or their allies. The dragons were gone too, but that didn’t really faze him.
Knees buckling, Sloan sank to his knees as grief overwhelmed him. He gathered Dara’s broken body in his arms and buried his face in her hair. Anna sobbed somewhere nearby, and he could make out Leith’s voice as he spoke lowly to her.
Raven sat down next to him and Sloan lifted his head. Tears were streaming down his leader’s cheeks. “Come on, Sloan. We need to get back to the castle. We have to give the evacuation order.”
But Sloan didn’t care. He didn’t care about the two dead handlers, his mourning leader or even Anna, who was still crying for her husband. He didn’t care about separating the clan they worked so hard to bond or the fact that they had to wait twenty-five years before the new handlers would come into their magic.
All he cared about was his wife, now dead, and the sucking wound her death left in his chest where his heart should be.
Chapter Two
Sloan stared down at his plate and made a face. Raven should really think about ordering out for a pizza once in a while. Seriously, why did they need to have some kind of roast meat, potatoes and gravy every night?
“Everything all right, Sloan?”
The sound of his leader’s voice had Sloan looking up. He was so goddamned sick of that question. He hadn’t been remotely all right since the day he’d lost Dara, twenty-five years ago. “I’m fine,” he said tonelessly.
Raven raised one eyebrow but didn’t comment any further. At least, he didn’t comment on Sloan’s attitude. Instead, he went back to the conversation he’d been having with Leith before he’d evidently seen Sloan sticking his tongue out at his dinner. “I haven’t had much luck in tracking the dragons down. I don’t know where else to look. Any advice, Leith?”
The blond giant leaned forward, and Sloan barely covered his snort with a cough. He knew exactly what Leith was about to say. Then again, Leith’s replies never changed much. “I’m a Seeker, Raven. I sense and find magic. I don’t track down huge, scaly lizards.”
“You haven’t had much luck seeking out any of our missing handlers either,” Sloan muttered.
Sloan knew he was playing with fire. No one messed with Leith. The witch was the oldest in their clan, five hundred years old if the rumors could be believed, and he was from a different time. One where an insult like the one Sloan had given him could be resolved in a fight to the death.
He tensed, waiting for the blow, but it never came. Leith merely ignored him and continued with his statement. “However,” he said without even a glance in Sloan’s direction, “I would suggest searching the cliffs. If the dragons have taken to their natural form instead of their human form, they’re probably lodged in one of the larger caverns.”
Bored with the whole thing, Sloan started twirling his finger in the air. Instantly, a water funnel rose from his goblet and he sent it on a mini rampage across the table. His magic simmered through him and he rolled his head, trying to release some of the buildup. The waterspout sucked up the liquid from every goblet on the table, growing larger and larger with every passing second.
The trick wasn’t releasing enough of the power and the magical overload was starting to make him a little jumpy. He knew from experience if he didn’t find an outlet soon, it would feel like he was being flayed alive.
Of course, the easiest answer would be to head out to the training fields Raven had set up for the handlers and direct his energy into the pond. But he itched for a fight.
Sending the funnel higher into the air, he made it hover over his leader’s head. A mixture of water, wine and juice swirled over Raven’s shaggy black hair. All he needed to do was let it go and it would drench the man. Raven would then launch himself across the table and Sloan would have the fist fight he was looking for.
Raven, however, seemed to have other ideas. “Sloan, I suggest you fly that spout out the window before letting it go.”
“And if I don’t?” Sloan asked, trying to inject as much insolence into his tone as possible.
“I will prevent you from using any magic for a week.”
Sloan’s jaw dropped and he nearly lost control of the funnel. It wavered dangerously above Raven’s head before Sloan sent it out the open window. As the MacAlister clan leader, Raven was the only witch who had the power to prevent him from using his magic. If he thought not being able to dissipate his magic was uncomfortable now, it would be excruciating after seven days. “Geez,” he muttered. “I’m just trying to lighten things up.”
Anna, who had been watching the whole thing through wide eyes, shook her head. “You’re out of control, Sloan.”
He opened his mouth to shoot back a verbal dagger when he saw the look in her eyes. She seemed horrified by Raven’s threat. Then again, as the air handler, she would know exactly what he was going through. Hell, she was probably as uncomfortable as he was.
Shoving a piece of meat in his mouth, he chewed and swallowed, determined to ignore the way it melted on his tongue or how the rich gravy felt like velvet sliding down his throat. He wasn’t in the mood to find anything remotely pleasant.
He turned to Raven instead, trying to redirect the conversation to something a little less volatile. “Why do you want to get back into contact with the dragons, anyway?”
Ever the gentleman, Raven wiped his mouth with a linen napkin before answering. “You know the prophecy, Sloan. The war to end all wars is coming. It behooves us to have as many people on our side when it happens. The dragons aligned with us the last time, so it stands to reason that they may wish to ally with us again. We can’t take any chances since the last time, the Takahashis were allied with the werewolves and the Keitas with the vampires.”
This time, Sloan didn’t even bother to hide his snort of derision. “Do you still believe in that prophecy?”
Raven raised his eyebrows again and looked at him with curiosity. “You don’t?”
Summoning a stream of water from the pitcher in the middle of his table and directing it into his goblet, Sloan thought about the best way to word his answer. Despite Sloan’s current mood, Raven was a good man and deserved a
good amount of respect. “No, I don’t believe in the prophecy.”
“Why?” Leith’s deep voice cut through the awkward silence his declaration had caused.
Surprised, Sloan turned to Leith. The man rarely spoke unless he was asked a direct question. Leith gazed at him with interest, almost like he was some science experiment gone wrong.
Sloan squirmed in his chair a little, uncomfortable with the stares he was getting from the three other witches. “Well, the prophecy also says each handler will go to battle with their soul mate by their side. How is it possible for me to go into that battle with my soul mate when Dara died in the last battle twenty-five years ago?”
He focused on his plate, unable to look anyone in the face. He couldn’t stand to see the pity he knew would be there.
The silence that settled over the room was smothering and he took a sip of water to try and ease his throat.
Finally, Anna spoke in her gentlest voice. The one she usually reserved for children and scared kittens. “Is it possible that Dara wasn’t your soul mate?”
Rage swamped him and he shot up from his chair, pointing at Anna. “How dare you?” he accused. “How dare you question my love for my dead wife? How would you feel if I questioned your feelings for Addison?”
Somehow Raven had made it across the room before Sloan even noticed he’d moved. One of Raven’s arms came across his chest and the other draped around his middle, like a father hugging his child from behind. “That’s not what she meant and you know it,” he whispered in Sloan’s ear.
The anger drained out of him as fast as it had boiled over, leaving him feeling guiltier than hell. “I know. I’m sorry, Anna. What I said was uncalled for.”
A brisk breeze swept through the room, reminding them all that, although Anna was better at restraining herself than Sloan, she could have taken him on in an instant. There were tears in her eyes though. Sloan’s mood sank to a new low, knowing he’d caused Anna to remember her own lost love.
She nodded but the breeze didn’t stop, and it combined with Sloan’s power to form a small rainstorm, complete with miniature forks of lightning. It wasn’t unusual for them to create tiny storms inside. It was almost like, with the absence of the other two handlers, he and Anna were missing some kind of anchor. He only barely hung on to control of his magic at the best of times. The accidental collision of their powers was almost too hard to handle.
Raven pushed Sloan down until his butt planted firmly in the chair. “Calm down, both of you, before you cause a damn hurricane.”
With a lot of concentration, Sloan pulled the magic back into himself. He shivered at the unpleasant sensation and saw Anna doing the same. That was the thing with magic. Once released, it really didn’t like being pulled back in. Pushing his plate away, he rose from his chair once more. “I’m not hungry. I need to go practice or something before I jump out of my skin.”
Raven pushed him down once more and replaced the plate. “You need to eat more. You’ve lost too much weight.”
There was no use arguing with the leader. Once he’d made his mind up, it took an act of God to change it. Sloan closed his eyes and rubbed his throbbing temples. He really needed to get to the pond and release some of this build up before he ended up flooding the dining room, and then go to bed. Maybe he should sleep for the next decade. Maybe then, the pain wouldn’t be so bad.
“I know,” Anna whispered from beside him.
He opened his eyes to see her kneeling at his side. She took one of his hands in both of hers. “I know it hurts. And I know you feel like you should have died instead of Dara. But that’s not what happened. You’re here, but you’re only going through the motions of living. We need you to actually give a shit if any of us are going to survive the coming war.”
There wasn’t even time for Sloan to question the damn prophecy again.
Leith, who had been motionless the entire time, sat straight up in his chair, his eyes wide with wonder. “The fire handler … has come into magic.”
Raven rushed over to his seat, where his cell phone was lying on the table. He started dialing even as he barked orders. “Leith, take Matthew with you on your search. He can help navigate the human society. Matthew?” he said into the phone.
A surge of power ran through Sloan, electrifying his senses and sensitizing his body in a way it hadn’t been stimulated in twenty-five years.
Sloan had only experienced it once in his life, when Anna had come into her powers. This time, the sensation was shockingly different. His cock swelled in seconds, and he pushed Anna away gently, embarrassed by his body’s response to the new handler magic.
He shivered and looked at Raven, who looked shaken. “She’s so strong,” Raven muttered.
Feminine power. Of course. Now that Sloan had clued into it, he could taste the vanilla and cinnamon of female magic on his tongue. No wonder his body had responded.
Raven took a breath and adjusted his belt. Sloan knew the feeling. He was kind of afraid his dick would break off if he tried to stand up. “Find her fast,” the leader said to Leith. “There’s no way the Takahashi or Keita seekers missed the power surge. Find her before they do. And watch out for hunters.”
Another wave of power rushed over Sloan, and every muscle in his body locked as he barely prevented himself from ejaculating in his pants.
Finally, things seemed to settle down a little and he tried not to blush. He hadn’t felt the need to orgasm when Anna had come into her magic but he’d been told it was different each time. The new magic pushing at them didn’t dissipate, but his body gradually grew used to the sensation.
Raven rushed around, talking about adding a fire pit to the training fields. “Anna, Sloan, be prepared to train her.”
Great. The last thing Sloan needed was to train a new handler in how to control her magic. Especially one who affected him like this.
Chapter Three
“I’m leaving for the day,” Sunny said to three of her co-workers. The women were all gathered around a computer screen, ogling a half-naked male model.
“God, I love my job,” one of them said with a sigh. “Every morning I wake up dreading coming to work and having to deal with the fashion editor from hell. Then I remember I get to ogle men like that every day, and I remember why I haven’t quit yet.” She pointed to the model, clad only in a pair of boxer briefs and a smile, and sighed.
Sunny giggled. She liked her job for more than the male models, but she had to admit they did make things a little more interesting. “They do break up the day,” she replied.
Another one of her co-workers sighed dramatically and turned off the screen. “Why can’t my boyfriend look like that?”
Shaking her head, Sunny pointed at the woman and smiled. “Don’t complain. I’ve seen the flowers he sends you every Friday.”
“Yeah. He’s pretty great. He’s out for the night though. Are you sure you don’t want to join us for drinks tonight? I’ll even treat you, since it’s your birthday.”
It was tempting. It wasn’t like she had anything else waiting for her at home. But Sunny shook her head again. No matter how long she’d held this job, she still couldn’t get past the idea that if she got close to someone, she would have to leave them behind. It was how she’d lived her entire life. “Maybe next time,” she said instead.
“We’re going to hold you to that.” Sunny giggled again as the women reached behind the screen and extracted a box. She recognized it as a pastry box from the local bakery. “Anyway, we wanted to give this to you. Happy Birthday. Enjoy it with a glass of wine and a bubble bath. You only turn twenty-five once, you know.”
Touched, Sunny accepted the box. “Thanks. I will.” She looked around, a little embarrassed. She didn’t quite know how to act around people these days. “You guys have a good time tonight. I’ll see you on Monday.”
All three women nodded. “Thank goodness for weekends,” one of them said. “It gives me two entire days to recover from Friday night. You pr
omise you’ll join us soon?”
“Maybe next week,” Sunny replied, a little cornered. She wasn’t certain how she felt. She wanted so badly to throw away all of her reservations and foster some real friendships.
Maybe the fact that she’d been at the magazine for more than a year meant she could actually make some friends. She’d never been anywhere longer than a year before. Even the foster families she’d grown up with had usually given up on her after about eight months and she was shunted to another family.
With her brain racing, she waved good-bye and headed out to her car. Unlocking the door, she slid into the driver’s seat and carefully placed the pastry box on the passenger seat.
She stroked the steering wheel affectionately. The car was more than just a car to her. It was the first thing she’d ever purchased. It was the only thing she’d had for longer than five years. Hell, it was the only thing she’d had for longer than two years; although, this job was approaching the eighteen-month mark. Regardless, the car was almost like a child to her.
She drove the twenty minutes to her apartment building and hopped out, making sure to lock the doors behind her. She lived in a fairly safe neighborhood and there were lights in the parking lot, but one could never be too careful.
Letting herself into the building, Sunny bypassed the elevators and burst through the stairwell door. The past few weeks had been strange. She was losing weight left, right, and center no matter how much she ate. It seemed like her metabolism had been ratcheted up by ten levels.
The amount of energy she had was outrageous. She lived on the sixth floor, and she’d been literally sprinting up the stairs every day for a week. She’d been hitting the gym like a maniac too, running on the treadmill until the person behind her started to get frustrated with her hogging the machine. Then, she’d move onto the stationary bike and hit the weights until her muscles screamed. It didn’t matter what she did. She still felt restless and twitchy.
