Sinful Magic: A Wing Slayer Novel

by Jennifer Lyon

  Her evasion infuriated Roxy. “Mom, answer the question!”

  “No. I mean I’ve heard rumors, but that’s all.”

  Roxy opened her mouth, then shut it. Was her mom lying? Gwen had told her about the ceremony, so why lie about this? “I have to go. Bye.” She hung up. With her mind spinning, she reached for her mug and took a drink of tea. Holding the cup, she set the phone beside her. “You heard.”

  He lifted his gaze and grinned. “I am to fertilize you. Will we need manure?”

  She flushed to her roots. “Shut up.”

  “Maybe I should water you, too?”

  She leaned forward, grabbed a powdered-sugar donut, and threw it at him.

  Key caught it and took a bite. “Fertilize, fertilize, it has such a romantic ring to it.”

  “No less romantic than having sex in public,” she snapped.

  “That’s not happening, not like your mom described. Now hot sex outside where no one can see us, oh yeah, that’ll happen. But it’ll be just us. You and me.”

  Warmth moved through her at his throaty description.

  He added, “Because it seems like I really should fertilize you outside.” Then he broke into laughter.

  “Jackass.” But his laughter was infectious and she laughed, too. Finally, she said, “Did you hear anything else besides that?”

  He finished the donut and went back to shading something on the drawing. “Yes. Dyfyr created fertility witches.” His eyebrows drew together and he looked up. “That makes sense. Dyfyr’s connection to fertility witches and Liam—that’s why I’m drawing it when Liam kills them. The dragon is furious.”

  Roxy felt that resonate in her chakras. “Dyfyr is their creator, like Wing Slayer is yours.”

  Key shifted in the chair. “Wing Slayer had a little help in my case.”

  Roxy turned to study him. “What do you mean?”

  “My mom got pregnant with me. She had the Tear, but she needed to bring Dyfyr back to life to get what she really wanted—immortality.”

  Roxy said, “That doesn’t make sense. The Tear left other dragons mortal.”

  “Yes, but I think as this story about being descended from dragons and finding the Tear was passed down in her family, it was embellished and changed.”

  Roxy got it. “Like whoever found the Tear and woke the dragon would get immortality.”

  He nodded. “She believed it. So much so that she became an archaeologist in preparation to find the Tear. Then when she did unearth it, she took that achievement as a sign that she would be the one to achieve immortality. But she needed the dragon, Dyfyr, for that.”

  “What did she do?” Roxy wanted to know.

  “When she was a few weeks pregnant with me, she went to a fertility witch. While she wore the Tear, they did some spell or ceremony that called the soul of Dyfyr into me.”

  Roxy stared at him. “A fertility witch did that? Is that even possible?” Even as she said it, a memory stirred, but she couldn’t quite bring it up.

  His face filled with shadows as anger rippled within him. “I’m here. They created a monster.”

  No! “You’re not a monster!”

  He stared at her with cold eyes. “I’m a freak of magic, Roxy. The fertility witch who did this abused her power and twisted nature by joining a fetus with the soul of Dyfyr. What would you call it?”

  Her breath caught as the memory surfaced. Roxy and her mother were fighting when Roxy said she didn’t want to Awaken, she wanted to be mortal and have a real family. Gwen snapped back that fertility witches helped mortals create those families. But they do so much more, Gwen said, explaining that she had done a spell so incredible, it was bigger than the miracle of birth. That memory ignited a flush of suspicion. Her mother had been evasive when Roxy asked about the Dragon Tear. Oh God, could her mother have been the fertility witch who did this to Kieran? Merging a dragon soul into an unborn child could be considered bigger than the miracle of birth. The risk to the child … But Gwen had brushed off the risk when Roxy told her that her Awakening was a witch hunter and dangerous to her. If she’d risk her own daughter’s life, was it such a stretch to think she’d risk an unborn baby? Panic rolled through her as she stared out at the cityscape, trying to think. To Kieran, she said, “You hate fertility magic, but you said my magic was a gift.”

  The coldness in his gaze melted. “You put yourself in danger to save a kid. Hell, you didn’t even want your magic. You won’t do that, Roxy. You won’t try to alter nature.”

  He believed in her. And if she told him what she suspected about her mother, what would he do? Her stomach twisted in knots. She just had too much coming at her. Roxy cradled the cup of tea. Fear froze her, but she focused on Key. It was easier to think about him. “Is that why you don’t think you know how to love, to have a relationship? Have you ever been in love?”

  His hand stilled, and he looked up. “Once. She died.” Then he resumed sketching, his cold dismissal a clear signal that the subject was closed.

  “I’m sorry, Kieran.” He’d endured so much. He made her want to take care of him, to reach past his emotional walls and ease the pain in him. Did he still love that woman who died? She hated that he’d suffered that way. “I shouldn’t have asked, I’ll just call my father.” She’d been avoiding calling him even though he’d be worried, but now she picked up the BlackBerry and dialed.

  “Heath Viking.”

  His voice wrapped around her chest and squeezed. “Dad, it’s me,” she said, struggling to get control of her wildly fluctuating emotions.

  “Roxy! I have people in Vegas looking for you! You checked out of your room and vanished. You didn’t get on your flight, what happened?”

  She launched into the story, quickly telling him what happened and explaining that Kieran was protecting her.

  “You’re choosing magic.”

  The flat betrayal in his voice almost undid her. She could try to explain, but she didn’t think he’d listen, so she simply said, “Yes.” Then she added, “I’m going to work from here. I want to buy the dramatic rights to the Eternal Assassins.” She rushed on to reassure him. “As soon as I can, as soon as it’s safe, I’ll be back in the office. Nothing is going to change.”

  “Roxy, don’t do this. Stop before it’s too late! We’ll find a way. Don’t do this. You’ll become … you won’t be my daughter. Your mother said the same thing all those years ago. But she changed, until I was just a means to feed her magic. And it was never enough. She … goddammit.”

  His anger and disappointment made her head throb. Her chest seized, and her eyes burned. She couldn’t do this right now, so she said, “I’ve already had a preliminary meeting with the two authors, Nina and Perry, and I feel good about them. I can work up a profit and loss as soon as I get a laptop, and then I can pitch it at the meeting by video conference. This project will be perfect for Shayla to write the screenplay. It can be huge, like Twilight or X-Men.”

  “You won’t even try to fight this? You’re going to let magic ruin you?” His voice dropped to angry despair.

  “Dad, I don’t have a choice. Please, Dad, I swear—”

  “You swore you wouldn’t choose magic. When I hired you, Roxy, you promised. You broke the promise. You’re fired.” He hung up.

  She held the phone in shock, seconds ticking by. He fired her. As his employee or his daughter? Both. She knew it was both. Finally she made herself press the end button and stared out the window. It was sunny and warm. Everything that she had feared would happen was happening. Her father had fired her, hated her. Hated what she was becoming. He’d only loved her until she screwed up.

  Her schema began to ache.

  Key caught her attention as he got up and walked over to her. Sitting on the arm of the couch, he slid his hand to her neck and rubbed the tight muscles. “I’m going to get you your life back, Roxy. I swear it. I’m your soul mirror; you’re going to get your high magic. The sex drive is supposed to calm then. You’ll be in control, an
d there’s no reason you can’t keep working.”

  He was right. Hope sprang up in her. Lifting her gaze, she said, “Working where? My father fired me.”

  Key stared at her. “Form your own production company and kick his ass.”

  The image surprised a laugh out of her. “I could, couldn’t I?” Her father’s reaction hurt down to her soul, but maybe he’d cool off, forgive her.

  He nodded. “Damn right. If you need financial backing, I’m here, sweetheart. Over time, your dad will see how special you are and realize he’s an ass who should have supported you when you needed him most.”

  He got it. The man who claimed not to know much about relationships understood what love was supposed to be.

  “Once Liam is dead, you can work with your dad or do whatever you want. You’ll have to be careful, though. We should develop enough of a bond, a sort of psychic link that will enable you to let me know if you’re in danger from rogues or demon witches.” He slid his arm around her. “I’ll protect you. I’ll be there for you.”

  She believed him. “I know you will.” She took a breath and said, “There’s no going back, so we move forward.”

  His gaze burned into her. “I’m going to show you the beauty in your magic, Roxy. Show you that it’s a gift.” He rubbed his palm down her arm, then cupped his hand around her side and let his thumb slide over her rib cage.

  Her nipples tightened from the feel of his thumbs caressing her through the tank. “How?” Fear twisted with her desire, confusing her. It was all happening too fast. Her world spun, her goals changed, and she couldn’t get a handle on anything.

  “You were doing magic last night when you woke up and saw the dragon on the wall. Before you had a chance to think, or worry about consequences. What did that feel like?” He slid one hand up, gliding over the swell of her breast, barely skimming her nipple.

  She shivered, goose bumps springing up her arms. The way he was touching her was sensual and soft, without being too invasive. Thinking back, she remembered being confused; waking up to find those men in the room. Then she saw the dragon Key had drawn. “It was like déjà vu, and then I felt a soft … pop is the only word I can think of … in my pelvis, and a sort of energy rising to my rib cage.”

  His gaze stayed locked on to her face. “Your chakras. Your witch-shimmer came to the surface, the fiery glow of sunset. It was faint but there.”

  He handed her his sketch pad and said, “Here’s how you look this morning. The light spilling in, catching the colors of your hair.”

  Roxy looked down. He’d caught her sitting at an angle, facing him, and a wistful expression glazed her green eyes with her mouth soft and slightly parted, as if she were going back in time in her head. She had her head slightly tilted, exposing the lines of her neck. It was so vivid, she recognized that was the moment she was thinking about the romance of Dyfyr and his lover. Her hair was blond over a light brown base, but he’d shaded it with red, somehow capturing the true color. Her breasts rose against the small tank top as if she were sucking a breath for a sigh. “It’s lovely. I look better here than I did in the mirror.” Though she appeared a little remote and melancholy.

  He tossed the tablet on the table. “That’s how I see you. But I want to see that witch-shimmer again, and your sensuality. When you’re not holding back, not consciously repressing your magic and your desire.” He throttled his voice down. “I want to bring out that sexy shimmer of yours and then capture it on paper. Show you there’s nothing to fear in your power or beauty.” He brushed his fingers up over her clavicle, along her jaw, and cupped her cheek.

  She tilted her head back, caught up in his gaze. “You don’t have to do this. What about your bloodlust?” He was going slowly with her, giving her some time, but she knew that they had to have sex. “We can just do it.”

  His fingers tensed. “Touching you eases my bloodlust. I want to learn you and teach you to trust my touch. To feel safe with me.”

  “I am safe with you.” He’d rescued her, taken care of her, taken her pain away and stayed with her while she slept. “I know that.”

  His hand on her face relaxed, wisps of blue heat flared in his eyes. “Safe enough to let me take off your shirt? Allow me to touch and kiss you until your magic rises and fires your shimmer?” His voice thickened. “Can you sit on the couch, with the sunlight pouring over your breasts, and let me draw you?”

  A knot in her stomach eased, her heart picked up speed, and excitement skipped through her. Anticipation. She glanced at the long wall of glass. “But the windows …”

  “Specially treated glass. No one can see you, except me.” He ran his thumb over her lips. “Only me.”

  “Only you,” she said as he kept brushing her mouth, then dipped inside. She touched her tongue to his thumb and his jaw clenched.

  He drew his thumb out and lowered his mouth to hers, while his hand on her waist crept up to brush the underside of her breast. He stroked her with his tongue and nipped her lower lip. Then licked it.

  She shivered, feeling overpowered by just a kiss. Her body was softening, while her schema heated and thin threads of desire began spreading. It was never like this with anyone else. He kept brushing the tender skin under her breast until her nipple ached, while stroking her mouth with his tongue.

  Pressure built low in her belly.

  He cupped her breast, brushing her nipple through the shirt. Tremors of pleasure shot through her, arrowing down, and she felt a pop, then the energy flowing out, spreading, filling.

  Key lifted his head. “Your magic. Feel it?” He drew his fingers around her breasts.

  Her magic streamed toward it, turning her skin sensitive to his touch. “Yes,” she breathed, wondering at the new, full feeling of it. The way it followed Key’s fingers.

  He switched direction and trailed his fingers down to the hem of her shirt. Grasped the edge and pulled it up.

  Expectation heated her skin as her breasts spilled out.

  Then he guided the top over her head and tossed it down. He got up, stepped between her legs, and knelt down. His hands settled on her thighs, his heat penetrating the soft cotton of the yoga pants.

  Roxy sat on the couch, unsure what to do. Her nerves pulled tight, her emotions flinging between excitement and uncertainty. Key had seen her completely naked, yet this felt more revealing, more personal.

  He lowered his gaze, his eyes growing hotter, taking on more blue. “Breathtaking.” He leaned up to her mouth and kissed her. Hot, open mouthed, demanding tongue. He ran his hands up over her hips to the bare skin of her waist.

  Then higher.

  Skimming, his palms created friction that her magic chased. She wrapped her arms around his neck, needing to taste him, wanting to know and savor the depths of Kieran’s mouth.

  A hint of dark spice that fired hunger in her.

  He drew his hands up to cup her breasts, feathered his thumbs over her nipples. She felt another chakra open, more magic, more pleasure.

  Key moved from her mouth, kissing down her throat, until he captured one distended nipple between his lips, then grazed it with his teeth, followed by gentle swipes of his tongue. Then he switched to the other side, making love to her breasts with his mouth.

  She was drowning in the sensations, her body heating, and her schema began to ache, burn, demand. She arched her body, thrusting her breasts high in an offering, to concentrate on that pleasure, not the pain in her …

  Key dropped his hands and caught her hips, pulling her tight to his erection. His hip was pressed to her schema, the firm contact easing the pain. Lifting his head from her, he raked his gaze down her body. “So damned beautiful.” He sucked in a breath, his nostrils flaring, color riding his cheekbones.

  She could feel his long, thick erection pressed exactly where she needed it, a hot pressure between her thighs.

  He leaned up, kissed her mouth, then slid to her ear. “Going to draw you now. Right now when you’re so fucking hot, I can’t think strai
ght.”

  She shivered.

  “And then, little witch, I’m going to take these pants off of you. I want you to think about that. Lie back and think about what it’s going to be like when I touch you. You’ll be wet and slippery …” He groaned in her ear. “And I’ll have to taste you. Find out if you are as delicious as I’m imagining. Think about that, Roxy, what it’s going feel like when I spread your thighs and kiss you until you come for me.”

  Key sat on the coffee table, thrumming with the need to capture her on the page. Roxy glowed with the fiery colors of sunset, desire softening her lines and swelling her lips and breasts. He looked down to her cleft in those yoga pants.

  Damn. She was swollen there, too, her caramel scent so tempting he gripped the pencil tighter. He began sketching.

  Fast.

  Needing to record this. Not for him, it was imprinted on his brain, on his soul forever. But for her. To show her, before he took her completely, before he stripped off her pants, spread her open, and filled her, he wanted her to know how incredibly beautiful and special she was.

  Drawing at hyperspeed, so fast a mortal would see only a blur, he saw her forming on the page. It inflamed his lust. He wanted her with ferocious desire that beat at his spine and swelled his cock so big, he was surprised the buttons of his jeans didn’t fly off.

  Beneath his shirt, he felt the dragon moving, trying to wake. For her.

  He glanced up at her, wearing just her pants, still flushed with desire and magic. It hit him how much she trusted him. She was giving herself over to his care, to their care, him and the dragon. It made his chest go so tight, he was nearly dizzy with it. This witch who’d fought her sexual magic for years trusted them to bring out her power. He changed pencils, desperate to capture the color of her witch-shimmer. He had his knees touching hers to keep the bloodlust under control.

  As he looked up again, his gut tightened. Did she know how much he loved doing this? To him, drawing was sensual. Creating her lines on the page was foreplay. And she let him, gave it to him, didn’t fill the space with chatter. She—