Magical Lover

by Karilyn Bentley

Uh-oh. He looked worried. Despite the shadows obscuring his face, she knew her virginity concerned him. After tonight, it wouldn’t be a problem. There was no way she was stopping now. No way. He was hers.

  “I haven’t done it in this position.” Or any position, but he didn’t need to know that.

  “Gently grasp my shaft and put it inside you. Just be careful not to bend it.”

  Of course. She knew that. Innocence did not equal naiveté. She could do this. He was her husband. He rescued her twice. He wanted her.

  Dragging her nails down his chest, listening to his sighs, power coursed through her limbs, slamming into her core. Wetness from her folds flowed over his staff as she grasped him in her hand, centering him against her. Rising up on her knees, she lowered herself onto him, eyes flaring as he penetrated her untried channel.

  Inch by inch she lowered herself onto him until he filled her. Invasion, penetration, oneness. His hands locked on her waist, raising and lowering her, his staff pulling inside, rubbing over sensitive places she didn’t know she had. Leaning forward and shifting her hips brought a rush of pleasure, focusing on one spot.

  She rubbed that spot against him, faster, faster, until she shattered, floating on a wave of bliss. He grasped her hips, slowing the motion, increasing the pressure. Long strokes that pulled against her sensitive tissues, that brought her to the edge again. He joined her in pleasure, crying out as she felt his staff jerk inside her.

  She collapsed on top of him, his arms wrapping around her waist.

  “How do you feel?” he whispered against her ear.

  “Mmm.” Wonderful. Sore.

  “Do you feel your magic?”

  How could he think about magic after what happened between them? “No.”

  “Sometimes it takes awhile.” He rolled them to their sides, slipping out of her, but keeping his arm about her waist.

  “What does it feel like?”

  “Like—” Thoren inhaled, nostrils flaring. “Why do I smell blood? Did I hurt you?”

  Heat bloomed in her cheeks. She hadn’t thought he’d be able to smell the remnants of her virginity. Shaking her head, she ducked, pressing her face into his chest.

  “Are you not telling me something?”

  “I’m all right. I’d tell you if I wasn’t.”

  A long pause. “If you say so.”

  She started to nod, when her hair stuck straight out, as if a bolt of lightning landed nearby. “What—”

  Waves of electricity crashed through her arms, her legs, jerking her onto her back, a cry breaking through her lips. Thoren placed a hand over her heart, pressing her into the ground, stilling the tremors shaking her limbs.

  “This is the magic. Center it in you, gather it into a ball. Hold the magic in the ball.”

  Was he daft? How was she supposed to do that when it felt like electric snakes slithered through her veins? Closing her eyes, she pictured the strands of electricity as snakes, slithering, sliding and she reached out her arms, gathering them to her. They came, crawling into her arms, circling around her, until she managed to push them into a ball. A writhing ball.

  Good thing snakes didn’t bother her.

  “All right. I have the ball.”

  “Don’t let it get away from you. Think of the ball as your magic. If you let it escape, then it can cause damage. You’ll learn to control it so that you determine how much energy escapes at once.”

  “Umm...the ball is coming apart.”

  “Hold it together! Find a way to hold it together.”

  What held snakes in place? Keara imagined a net surrounding the snakes, a tightly woven net, too small for the snakes to escape. Ah. That worked. She opened her eyes.

  A burst of energy shot from her hand, singing Thoren’s shoulder before slamming into a tree. The smell of burning flesh saturated her nostrils. Without thinking, she placed her other hand over the seared skin on his shoulder, healing the burn.

  Unlike the other times she’d healed, this one didn’t leave her drained. Tired, but that could be from the sex. Or the ritual. Or the day.

  “How did you do that?” Thoren rubbed where her energy singed him.

  If he only knew. “I just can. I’ve always been able to. And I’m really sorry about the burn. I’m not sure what happened.”

  “Don’t feel bad, it’s normal. I expected that. I didn’t expect you to heal it. Thank you.”

  “It’s normal to singe skin and burn trees?”

  “It’s expected when a female’s powers are first unlocked. It won’t last long. You’ll figure out how to hold the energy in unless you need it to work magic.”

  “Do males go through this ritual too?”

  Thoren brushed a piece of hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear. “Males go through the Change when they are in their mid-thirties. There is a ritual for the Change but not to unlock their powers.”

  “So, how do males have their powers unlocked?”

  “Not in the same way females do. Males usually start working magic when they are young. When they go through puberty, they have almost all of their powers. When a male goes through the Change, then he gains his full powers.”

  “Have you gone through the Change?”

  “No. Not yet.”

  “So males have powers when they hit puberty but females don’t?”

  “Females have some powers. As you do with healing. But until their powers can be unlocked, they don’t have their full abilities. However, females typically have stronger magic than do males. Not always, though.”

  “So my magic is stronger than yours?”

  Teeth flashed white in the darkness as Thoren grinned. “At the moment your magic is more electrifying than powerful. Maybe when you learn to control it.”

  “Smarty-pants.” A strand of magic flew out of her fingers, cutting into another tree. Luckily, the tree remained standing. “Aargh! How am I supposed to sleep if I keep blowing things up?”

  Thoren looked at the tree. “It’s not blown up.”

  “You know what I mean.” Keara pinched him.

  He snorted. “Sorry. Couldn’t help it. But you don’t need to worry about sleep. Nothing has ever happened to a female when she sleeps. No escaping powers, no magical death blows. Don’t worry.”

  “Thanks.” She thought. What if he was wrong? What if she burned him to death in her sleep? Or set the woods on fire, killing everyone?

  “Really. Trust me. Besides, I’m here. I’ll make sure nothing happens.”

  “But the tree is burned.”

  “I wasn’t focusing then. I am now. Trust me, Little One. Sleep.”

  Tiredness flooded her body, making her eyelids heavy, her mouth opening in a yawn. She snuggled her head on his shoulder, letting the heat of his body and the steady thumping of his heart lull her to sleep.

  ****

  Thoren watched Keara sleep, the curve of her breast resting against his chest, her skin prickling in the chill night air. Instead of watching her sleep, he needed to ensure her warmth. What was he thinking?

  He wasn’t.

  Holding out his hand, he used his magic to pull the invisibility blanket out of his bag and float it to him. With a flick of his wrist, he draped the blanket over Keara and himself. Warmth.

  Not like he needed more heat. He had enough lying next to Keara.

  For once, he understood why a male would do anything to be with his female. Why had he wanted to leave her? Was his job that important?

  He pictured them together, her working with the healing priestesses at the Temple and him...staying home.

  What did mated males do all day?

  He could teach the hatchlings how to control their magic. That was an acceptable position for a mated male to have. But where was the excitement, the adrenaline rush, the joy of outmaneuvering one’s enemies?

  It didn’t exist in teaching.

  Could he live with that? He looked down at Keara, felt her breath tickle the skin of his chest. She belonged to him, of that
he was sure. It took all his will not to lock inside her during sex, to mark her inside and out as his mate.

  Could he give up his livelihood for her? A shiver shook him. He hadn’t planned for this. Hadn’t meant to find his mate this early in his life. His head pounded. Undoubtedly from too much thinking.

  Thoren rubbed his forehead. What was up with his aching head? Since when did he have head pains? The brushing of Keara’s soft skin against his chest, her breasts rising and falling as she slept soothed the headache into a dull throb, a background noise.

  A wave of tiredness swept over him, trying to push him under. Keara had the right idea. Sleep sounded wonderful. Enar and Fafnir could watch the camp. Maybe a little shut-eye would get rid of the head pains. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and let the pain beating in his skull pull him into a fitful darkness.

  Chapter 11

  Thoren woke with a gasp, blood pounding in his ears, sweat covering his body. Creeping shadows rustled through the trees with the wind as his wide-eyed gaze frantically roved their branches. He sat up, shaking his head, trying to remember the dream that disturbed him, to no avail. Glancing down at Keara sleeping by his side, he started to run fingers through his hair, stopping when he saw his hand.

  Shadows from the moving branches flickered across his hand as he turned it to and fro. Not even shadows could play a trick like this. Concentrating, he willed the dragon’s talon back into a human hand.

  This couldn’t be happening. He still had several years left.

  A dream. That’s what it must be. He’ll open his eyes and everything will be fine. The hand will still be a hand. No claw.

  Thoren opened his eyes and stared at the claw formerly known as his hand. Closed them. Opened again. Tried to get his heart to stop pounding like a hammer on an anvil.

  Goddess’s bones.

  The Change. That time in a male’s life where he was brought into his full powers or left forever in dragon’s form. Only a female could bring a man into his powers, no female and he was stuck with scales. Same as Fafnir.

  Dear Goddess, no!

  Unfortunately for him, all he had available was a female who had just been brought into her powers and had no idea what the ritual involved. He could fly home—according to Fafnir it was a little over half a day away—but to turn willingly into the dragon while Changing meant he might never return to his human form.

  He shuddered. If Keara couldn’t help him, he would become like Fafnir, stuck in dragon form until his death. Dear gods, he hoped not.

  Keara lay on her back, one arm thrown over her head, her braid tumbling across her bare breasts. Would she be able to help him? He could explain the ritual to her, but it would be up to her to perform it. Closing his eyes, Thoren took deep breaths, trying to reduce the pounding in his veins.

  He had no choice. He would try to explain the ritual and pray her fluctuating powers didn’t blast him in the middle of it.

  May the Goddess shine Her light on him.

  She might be more amenable to doing so if he’d bother to pray on occasion. When was the last time? Obviously too long if he couldn’t remember.

  Slipping out from under the blanket, Thoren pulled it around Keara with his one non-clawed hand. That was starting to change into a claw.

  Curse it.

  In the manner of his race, he stood facing the wind to pray, feeling the touch of the Goddess as the wind caressed his hair. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine Her arms wrapped tightly around him, protecting him from the uncertainties of the Change. Standing quietly, he raised his hands to the sky, feeling Her breath on his skin, Her touch through his hair, and slowly the tension eased from his muscles.

  ****

  Keara opened her eyes, expecting to see Thoren lying beside her. Only empty air greeted her. Where was Thoren? She started to push up on her elbow when she noticed him standing by her feet, arms raised above his head. She had to stare hard to see his chest rise and fall. Not that she minded watching his chest.

  Or the muscles of his body. Or the heavy length of him which unfortunately was hidden in the shadows. Shame that.

  She was definitely over her fear of him and moving down the road of serious liking.

  The wind whipped his hair back from his face, dim shafts of moonlight speckling the sweat pouring down his face. Sweat? She sat up, letting the blanket pool about her waist, and focused on his face. Sweat dripped off his chin; even in the dim light she saw it. Was he sick? Maybe she should disturb him and ask, but he seemed to be praying.

  His eyes opened, focusing on her. Guess he wasn’t praying after all. But something was wrong as his energy field danced erratically around his upper body. Turquoise blue intermingled with apple green and yellow spikes collided with a bright scarlet that appeared to be trying to overrun the other colors. What illness caused an aura like that?

  And his hands. Claws spurted from the ends of his arms.

  “It’s the Change.”

  “Your hands.”

  He raised a claw to eye level, turning it back and forth, a shudder running through his body. “I need your help.”

  “I don’t know where my herb bag is.”

  “Herbs won’t help.” He knelt at her feet. “I need your magic.”

  “My magic?” Oh yes, that writhing ball of snakes she was supposed to control.

  A burst of energy shot from her hand, striking the ground, a geyser of dirt spraying over them.

  “You sure you want my magic? Because it doesn’t seem to be controlled.”

  Thoren wiped dirt off his face with the back of his arm. “I don’t have a choice. If you don’t help me, I’ll turn into a dragon and will never be able to turn back.”

  “Is that why Fafnir stays as a dragon?”

  “Yes. Let me explain to you what you need to do. Please.”

  If he wanted to use her uncontrolled magic to help him, who was she to argue? “All right. Tell me what I need to do.”

  Two minutes later Keara raised a brow at Thoren. “That’s all I have to do? I thought this was some complicated task.”

  “It’s not complicated. Just new to you. Do you think you can do it?”

  What he described wasn’t much different than when she healed injuries. Same concept. No problem, right?

  “Of course. Do you want to sit beside me?”

  Thoren lowered himself to the ground, his face tensing with obvious pain.

  Keara watched as the colors of his aura flickered, the red fighting for dominance. Thoren drew in a breath, sweat breaking on his brow. He wiped his forehead with his arm, while she reached a hand toward the colors, trying to still their fight. When her hand passed through the red light, it ceased its struggle, streaming instead toward her palm.

  Instinct kept her hand still as the red light from Thoren’s aura flowed into it, pouring into her body. She gasped as the magic streamed through her veins, heating her palms. Should she absorb it, make it a part of her, or throw it away?

  Too mesmerized by the colors dancing before her to decide, Keara continued to stroke her hands down the aura surrounding Thoren’s body, each stroke calming the clash of colors, easing the tension on his face. Thoren shuddered as she drew more of the scarlet into her hand. Her palms blistered, but the compulsion to continue overwhelmed the reaction to pull her hands away.

  What should she do with all this magic gathered into her hands? She didn’t know how to throw it away, or what would happen to whatever object it landed on, and the trees already looked pretty sad from her own energy bursts.

  Absorption it was. But how?

  The magic crept through her veins, lodging in every pore of her body, filling her mind. Something inside her brain unlocked like a dam breaking as the magic spread into that previously hidden place. She noticed the colors of Thoren’s aura flickering in harmony before her vision darkened. Her body felt alive, on fire, every inch inside and out burning with the pulse of Thoren’s magic.

  She heard a cry. What was that? Who care
s? Her body was thrown backward, the breath leaving her as she hit the ground, a heavy body covering hers. She wanted this, wanted him, but the pulse of the magic soothed her, enticed her to work with it, to open to it, to ignore what was happening to her body.

  He entered her, stretching her to fullness and yet the magic flowing out of him and into her took all her attention.

  She reached for it, pulling it about her like a cloak, diving into its depths as he plundered her body. With each of his strokes she felt the pull of magic drag her deeper, until she no longer felt her body, no longer had consciousness. Nothing mattered but joining the scarlet magic of Thoren’s to her spirit, bonding him to her.

  ****

  Thoren opened his eyes to see Keara’s pale face, her eyes closed. He kissed her cheek and looked at his hand, which praise the Goddess was a hand and not a claw. The ritual worked. Keara saved him from being stuck in dragon form.

  “Thank you.”

  She didn’t move.

  “Keara?” He placed a hand against her cheek, feeling the heat pouring off her skin, then slipped it down to where her pulse beat in her neck. It took him a couple of tries to find her pulse, which beat in an erratic barely-felt pattern.

  “Keara?” He shook her shoulder, hoping to wake her, getting nothing but a floppy head.

  What happened? He’d never heard of a female being injured while helping a male through his Change and yet something was clearly wrong. But what?

  He pulled out of her, smelling the musk of their joining, wishing he had taken his time instead of slamming into her like a green lad with his first female.

  “Keara?”

  Her skin burned where he touched it. Looking at her hands, he saw small blisters glittering in the moonlight. Magic only burned when it was absorbed.

  Goddess’s teeth, she didn’t.

  Thoren felt his heart jump, pounding away like he’d flown for miles. He wiped his palms on his thighs. Why hadn’t she thrown off his magic? Hadn’t he told her to do that?

  After racking his brain for their conversation, he knew he hadn’t told her what to do with the magic. What had he been thinking to describe the ritual and forget the most important part?