Magic to the Bone ab-1

by Devon Monk

  She hadn’t told her father for the last and final time that she hated him, then had him die on her before she could say she was sorry.

  Zay quietly shut the door and padded across the room. He paused and stood in front of me.

  Electricity trembled through me. I reached up and placed my palm against his chest, my hand a ghost of ivory against the darkness and heat of his skin. I drew my palm slowly down the tight muscles of his stomach and paused at his waistband.

  “I want you,” I whispered.

  He leaned toward me and I leaned back, lifting the covers so he could come with me to this soft and sacred place. He waited as I tugged off my sweatpants and panties. I waited as he pulled off his boxers. In all the time since he had come into the room, and it felt like hours, days, he had not yet touched me, had not yet kissed me.

  And I so desperately wanted him to.

  Zayvion lay beneath the covers beside me and finally, finally, drew his hand up my hip, my ribs, and over the curve of my breast. I shuddered in pleasure. He brushed his thumb over my nipple, paused to circle it gently. I moaned and met his lips with my own.

  Desire echoed through me and I trembled with need. I tangled my legs with his and leaned back, bringing Zay on top of me, the weight of his strong, wide body pressing me into the soft embrace of the bed. He lowered his head and gently bit the hollow of my neck. Electricity flickered through me, wicked and warm, pooling between my thighs.

  I was hot, needful, hungry.

  I dragged my nails up his wide, lean back. I pushed my fingers into the thick curls of his hair, savoring the texture of him, and coaxed his lips down to mine. He breathed gently against my cheek, then finally, finally, his lips cradled mine, soft, hot. His tongue slipped sweetly into my mouth, seeking, stoking my passion. With every stroke of his strong, masculine heat, need rose in me. High. Higher.

  The scent of pine, of musk, the salty-sweet taste of him, wrapped me, filled me.

  I wanted more. More of him. All of him. I wanted this to never end.

  Heat and pleasure stretched me, filled me so full, too full.

  More.

  I arched up, pressed against him, wrapped around him. The sliding heat of fire licked through me, growing, spreading, pulsing, until all I could feel, all I could want was the aching hardness of him within me.

  Yes.

  Zay shuddered. Hot waves of pleasure broke and poured through me, tumbling me over the edge of desire and gently down, down to the soft, welcome warmth of his body against mine.

  It has never felt like that before, I thought as he lay against me, sweating and heavy, my legs still tangled with his. It has never felt so right.

  I might have drifted off to sleep, or maybe I just lost track of time. But I eventually noticed again the ticking of the clock in the living room, the smallness of the room around me, and Zayvion.

  He rolled away, leaving a final kiss on the top of my breast before taking up half the bed by lying on his back. I shifted to my side and put my head on his shoulder and my arm across his chest, not ready to lose contact with him yet.

  We didn’t say anything. Even though his breathing was soft and even, I knew he was awake because I could hear the flick of his eyelashes as he blinked.

  And while I did not know why he was still awake, I knew what was keeping me up.

  I couldn’t believe I’d just slept with him. Not that it wasn’t wonderful. Okay—fantastic. But now I didn’t know what to do. Nola was right. I had a long history of falling into bed with men before I knew them. And I did not really know Zayvion.

  It would be crazy to fall for someone who was hired to stalk me—who maybe still was stalking me. After all, he had a remarkable knack of tracking me down when things went terribly wrong. He was a wild card in my suddenly too-wild life.

  Other than stalking and maybe spying, I wasn’t sure he even had a job.

  He might be following me and doing all these nice things because I was rich. Richer now that my dad was dead. If he got in good with me, he would never have to work again in his life.

  Maybe he had this all planned and wanted to get me out here where I couldn’t defend myself with magic.

  Okay, that was crazy. He’d told me he didn’t kill my dad, and I believed him.

  Pull yourself together, I thought.

  I wished I’d made the dog stay.

  I wished I’d gone back to sleep.

  “Zay,” I said.

  “Mmm?”

  “I need to ask you something.”

  He shifted so he was on his side, facing me. “So do I. Let me start, okay?”

  “No. Me first,” I said. “Are you here because you want the money I’m going to inherit?”

  He paused on an exhalation and stiffened. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “No. I want to know if you want my money, or if you’re angling for a hand in the business—Beckstrom Enterprises.”

  He closed his eyes. When he opened them, all the warmth and laughter was gone. “Is that what you think? That I did this to manipulate you?” He was angry and probably had every reason to be.

  “Yes,” I said. “No. Maybe.” I groaned and flopped over on my back. I couldn’t think straight. I pressed my fingers over my eyes. “I don’t know,” I said through my palms. “It’s just happening so fast. I don’t know if I can handle this. Us. Whatever we are.” Hells, could I sound any more pitiful? “You don’t want the money, do you?”

  He didn’t say anything. I waited, but all I heard was his breathing, slightly elevated, like he was still angry. I finally pulled one hand away from my face and peeked over at him.

  Predawn light fingered through the slats covering the window. It was pretty, I suppose. It lent enough light for me to watch Zayvion’s expression close down until none of the warmth and passion of a lover showed in his eyes. Until he was calm, controlled, closed. Zen.

  “I don’t want the money,” he said with such quiet and control it actually spooked me. “I don’t want control of the company. If this is going too fast, then I’ll give you some time to think about what I do want.”

  He reached over and brushed my bangs out of my eyes. His thumb glided across the mark of magic that curled at my temple, and I found myself longing for the coolness of his touch. Something deep in my bones responded to him, drew toward him whenever we touched.

  “What are you?” I whispered.

  There was a knock at the door, then Nola’s voice. “If you two want to put some clothes on, I think you need to come out to the kitchen and see this.”

  I didn’t know she was awake, hadn’t heard the springs on her bed creak, hadn’t heard her walk down the noisy wood stairs. Hells. Someone could have walked in and killed me, for all the attention I was paying. Or maybe I’d been paying very close attention to the only person in the house I wanted to see.

  Still, it was predawn. Nola had a hideous habit of getting up before the sun, so she’d probably heard all the moaning and groaning going on in here. This old farmhouse had very thin walls. How fabo was that?

  I blushed, and was glad the light was low.

  “We’ll be out in a minute.” I pulled the top blanket around me and slid off the bed to gather the sweats and T-shirt.

  Zayvion got out of bed, picked up his boxers, and put them on.

  I managed to get my sweats on while contorting to hide my decency behind the blanket. Oh, screw it. It’s not like we hadn’t just been a whole lot of naked with each other a few minutes ago.

  I dropped the blanket, turned the inside-out T-shirt inside-in again and tugged it on over my head.

  Zay was watching me.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Do you want your father’s money?”

  I rubbed at my hair and knew it must be sticking out like a Christmas cactus. I was glad there weren’t any mirrors in the room, because I was sure I was a vision of lovely.

  “Listen,” I said while I rummaged for a robe in the closet. “I know I’ve had advantages in my li
fe because of my father’s money, nice things and good education—especially the education. But when I failed at getting my degree in business magic and dropped out of college, he disowned me. I knew there would be no going back on that.”

  “Why didn’t he hire private tutors?”

  “What do you mean? To teach me magic?” I snagged a plain white robe off the hook, and shut the closet door. “No one teaches magic outside the universities. It’s too dangerous. If a student does something really stupid, you need a whole crew of people to set Siphons, bear Proxy, and do other kinds of mop-up.”

  I thought Zay was just testing to see if I had really gone to college. But he was watching me, his nostrils flared like he was trying to scent the truth of my words.

  “You never met other users?” he asked. “Teachers?”

  And I knew there was something riding on my answer, something important.

  “What if I had?” Okay, that was a bluff, but I was suddenly really interested in what had gotten Mr. Zen all worked up.

  He shrugged one shoulder, but otherwise was still, waiting.

  I was so not in the mood for a game of truth or dare. “I’ve never met with teachers outside of the universities. Well, maybe in a social setting, but not in a student-teacher sort of way. Okay? Why is that such a big deal?”

  “Allie, your father was very powerful in the world of magic.”

  “And you’re trying to see where I fit in all that?”

  He nodded.

  “I’ve told you—I didn’t fit. Wasn’t a part of it—whatever ‘it’ was. Disowned, remember?”

  Zay nodded and looked over at the window, avoiding my gaze. “That’s good to know.”

  What had gotten into him? I hadn’t tried to be public with my dropping out and estrangement from my father, but there had been a couple slow news days, so it wasn’t like it was a secret.

  “What did you think?” I muttered. “That my dad and I were out to take control of all the magic in the world?”

  Zay turned to look at me so fast I thought his neck was going to snap.

  “Sweet hells, Zay. I was joking,” I said. “Joking. What is going on in that head of yours?”

  Nola’s voice called out. “Allie, Zayvion. Breakfast.”

  Zay looked down at the floor and rubbed at the back of his neck. I didn’t think I’d ever seen him embarrassed before. “Sorry. That was funny,” he said unconvincingly. “Let’s go get some coffee.” He pulled into his jeans and shirt, then escaped the room without looking at me.

  Weird. Weird. Weird.

  I tied the robe closed and tucked my hair behind my ears. Maybe I’d been onto something just then. Maybe my father had been out to control all the magic in the world. He already owned patents to most of the systems that made magic available. So what else was there to control? Who else was there to control?

  I thought about Cody. I thought about him pulling magic through me, like I was a flesh-and-blood conduit for it. No one should be able to do that. I shouldn’t have been able to do that.

  And I certainly shouldn’t have been able to heal him.

  Were there other people who could do things with magic that they shouldn’t?

  A shiver ran down my arms and the nauseating pangs of panic rolled in my belly. I’d been in so many bad situations lately, even the hint of something going wrong put me full into fight-or-flight mode, and it was exhausting. I shook my hands to loosen my shoulders and neck, and took a few good breaths to clear my head.

  Coffee first. Then, if I still felt like it, I could panic.

  I walked out of the room and made my way to the kitchen and the low sounds of unfamiliar voices.

  Nola, Zayvion, and Cody were all in the kitchen. Zay stood at the stove, drinking from a coffee mug, and looking calm and unperturbed as always.

  The unfamiliar voices were coming from a small TV set on the counter. Right now it was some woman talking about foot fungus.

  “I’ll get you some food,” Nola said. “Why don’t you sit next to Cody.”

  I looked over at the kid. His blond hair was damp and brushed down tight against his head. He’d obviously just taken a shower. It looked like Nola had found a spare pair of sweats and a flannel shirt for him. He was about Nola’s build, but I did a quick reassessment of his age. Slight of frame and delicate features, yes, but not because he was a kid. I’d put him in his mid-twenties, maybe even early thirties. His head was bent over the kitten in his hands. He completely ignored the bowl of cold cereal on the table in front of him, and, as far as I could tell, everything else.

  “So your name’s Cody.” I sat in the chair across from him where I could keep my eye on Zayvion. “Remember me?”

  Cody looked up from the kitten and smiled a bright, lopsided smile. “Pretty colors,” he said. He held up his hand and waved it in the air like he was pushing finger paints around. He frowned when nothing happened.

  “There’s no magic here, Cody,” Nola said, and it sounded like she’d been saying that for a while.

  Cody stopped waving and put his hands back around the kitten.

  “Cody?” I said. “Do you remember me helping you? Do you remember talking to me down by the water?”

  Cody started rocking in the seat of his chair.

  Oh. I looked over at Nola. “I didn’t know,” I said.

  She nodded. “Well, it should make it easier to narrow down where he came from. I can’t imagine someone isn’t looking for him.”

  “I still think we should check to make sure he didn’t escape from a penitentiary,” Zay said.

  He pulled a couple pieces of toast out of the toaster, dropped them on a plate, and layered a thick wedge of cheese between them. He walked over to the table and sat down next to Cody, across from me. Good. Now we could both keep an eye on each other.

  “Penitentiary?” Nola asked.

  “Zayvion thinks he might have gotten in trouble with the law.”

  Nola placed a plate of homemade bread, butter, cheese, and apples in front of me. “I’ll get you some oatmeal,” she said.

  “Don’t bother. This is perfect, thanks.”

  She moved over to the stove, poured a cup of coffee, and handed it to me.

  “What kind of trouble do you think he was involved with?” she asked Zayvion.

  Zay chewed, and slurped coffee. “Forgery. There was a high-profile case a few years back. A young man who committed a string of forged magical signatures. Covered up some pretty big Offloads, Proxy abuses, blackmail, and embezzlement. Landed him in prison.”

  “Was he mentally challenged?” Nola asked.

  Zay shook his head. “If he was, it was never mentioned in the news articles. Still, there were rumors that once he was out of the public’s eye, the people whom he had indicted before he was sentenced dealt out their own kind of justice.”

  “They mentally damaged him?” she asked. “How is that possible?”

  “Tried to kill him, but were not successful. It’s hard to kill someone with magic. Takes an incredible amount of power, and intense focus and control.”

  “And the price is too high,” I said.

  “What’s the price?” Nola asked.

  Questions like that made me realize she really did live in a world without magic. “Death. If you take a life, you have to give a life.”

  “Oh.” Nola looked over at Cody, who was still rocking.

  “And,” Zay added, “despite all those risks, they apparently didn’t want to get their hands dirty by killing the old-fashioned way.”

  “Do you really think he might be the same person?” Nola asked.

  We all looked at Cody, who rocked faster and hummed.

  “They say he was a genius,” Zay said. “An artist who could manipulate magic and make it become anything he wanted it to be.”

  “Nobody can make magic into anything they want,” I said, hoping it was true. “There’s a limit to what magic can do, a limit to any user’s ability.”

  Zay shrugged. “Some
say magic isn’t as cut and dry as people think. It’s only been in use for what? Thirty years?”

  “Isn’t there a name for people who are naturally talented at magic?” Nola sat at the table. “I heard it’s rare. Aren’t they called Servants or something?”

  “Savants,” Zay and I said at the same time.

  Cody stopped rocking. He looked up at each of us, his blue eyes wide, frightened. Then he dropped the kitten next to his cereal. “Kitten likes milk. See?”

  Kitten did indeed like milk and went to town, greedily lapping it up from around the floating cereal.

  “Hmm,” Nola said. “It might be easy to find out where he came from, but I’m not so sure it will be as easy for you to get him back there.”

  “Who said we were taking him anywhere?” Zayvion asked.

  “I do,” I said. “I think he needs to go back to wherever his home is.” Wherever he’s safe, I thought.

  “And if I disagree?” Zay said. “How are you taking him without a car?”

  “I’ll drag him in with me to the police, and let them take care of him.”

  Nola held up her hand. “Wait. The news is back on. This is what I wanted you to see.”

  I glared at Zay and he looked at me, unperturbed. But when I heard my name on the news, I turned to watch.

  It is strange to hear your own name on the news. I suppose people might think it’s an exciting thing, but really, the news mostly covers tragedies, scandals, and misfortune. Any time your name is associated with one of those things, you were in a world of hurt and probably didn’t want the whole world to know about it.

  Hearing my name spoken by a reporter, a stranger who did not know me, was weird even though my name had been occasionally mentioned alongside my father’s in the media. This time felt very different. This time made me feel vulnerable, exposed, violated.

  A picture of my dad next to an intelligent-looking dark-haired woman who I assumed was one of the wives I’d missed out on flashed on the screen. Then the screen filled with a picture of me, from a dedication ceremony I’d attended with my father during my precollege days. In the photo I was smiling and had absolutely no idea what a huge mess my life was about to become.