Magical Collision

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Magical Collision Page 4

by Jaliza A. Burwell

Laughing, I asked, “Is that what they’re called?”

  “Come on, Laila, it’s a beautiful night.” Elliot leaned forward and ran his hand along my arm. My skin tingled against his touch, true magic, considering he was wholly human.

  “Okay. Just be warned that if some creature tries to attack us, I’m tripping you and running away.”

  He got out and pulled me out of the passenger seat. I wouldn’t have gotten out otherwise. With his arm looped with mine, we went on a small impromptu hike through the dark woods.

  “Relax, Laila. You know I’d never put you in harm’s way.”

  “I know that. Doesn’t mean my body doesn’t.”

  It took us ten minutes to get to the spot Elliot wanted to show me. I gasped in disbelief.

  “How is this here?” I asked, looking out into a glowing sea of trees. I didn’t know what kind of trees they were, but we were up high enough to see the top of their canopies and all them glowed a soft silvery light.

  “They get like this leading up to the full moon,” Elliot said. “For about a week and a half, they’ll glow like this, eating up all the moonlight it can get. Think of it as their feeding time.”

  “So when the moon lessens, they go dormant until it’s almost full again?”

  “Yes.” Reverence entered Elliot’s voice.

  I wrapped my arms around his waist, cuddling up to him to fight the cold.

  “Oh, here, I picked this up. I know how dangerous it is for you to use your magic right now.” He dug in his pocket and pulled out a small disc. Hitting a button, it began making a whirring noise. Once it became a constant sound, Elliot tossed it into the air. The device hovered, spinning really fast. Slowly the air grew warm enough for me to take off my winter coat.

  “Sit down, Laila,” Elliot said, sitting down and patting the ground.

  With a smirk, instead of sitting on the ground, I climbed into Elliot’s lap. He wrapped his arms around me as I pressed my breasts against his chest.

  “Mm, comfortable,” I said.

  It was hard to make out his expression, but the moonlight highlighted enough for me to see his heated eyes underneath his lowered lids.

  “Laila, this is a bad idea.”

  I kissed his jaw. “I think it’s a fun idea.” Trailing my lips to his neck, I enjoyed the taste of him.

  He moaned and returned the kiss while I situated myself to get comfortable. His kiss was a soft heat, and he didn’t hold back. His tongue swept into my mouth, and I moaned, loving the slow movement. He was taking his time, tasting every part of me.

  “Please be a yes,” I said. “I need a yes.”

  “Yes.”

  I smiled against Elliot’s mouth and reached between us, making quick work unbuckling his jeans.

  “Slow down, Laila, there isn’t any rush.”

  “You guys have been stringing me along. I need something.” I kissed him hard, making sure he felt what I wanted through my lips. “Please.”

  He grabbed my hands and pulled them away from his body and I moaned. His chuckling frustrated me, and I let just a tiny bit of my power loose, making sure to give him a zap.”

  “Hey, now!”

  “Don’t be a tease, it’s a dickish thing to do.”

  He kissed me, still holding my hands away from his body. “I’m not teasing you. I want to enjoy this stolen time with you. That’s all.”

  “Stolen?” I smirked.

  “You know it is.”

  We kissed again and this time I slowed down, going at his speed. It only drove me crazier, and he still refused to let me go. Heat collected low in my stomach, and I groaned when he finally let one of my hands go. I leaned forward, forcing him to lie down on his back.

  I grinned down at him, and loved the similar look in his eyes, full of lust and something deeper, something that made my throat tighten. He saw that I saw and closed down the look. I felt its loss, but I also didn’t feel like going into a panic anymore. I was in so much trouble with these guys.

  “You’re beautiful, Laila,” Elliot said.

  “So are you, pretty boy.” I laughed when he tried to scowl at me. Elliot hated being called a pretty boy, but it was the only way to describe him with his curly dark brown hair, gray eyes, and thick eyelashes. He even had those bow-shaped full lips that would make any woman jealous.

  Elliot ran his hands up my sides, the fabric of my dress getting in our way. I reached over and pushed the straps off my shoulders and then let it fall down so that my chest and my strapless bra were revealed. Refusing to look away from him and basking in the heated way he watched me, I reached up and unclipped my bra, letting my breasts free from their constraints. His eyes went right to them and stayed there as his hands moved up and cupped them. He held them for a moment, taking in their weight. I was a breasts woman. I loved having my girls played with.

  They were ready for him too, my nipples turning into peaks, demanding his attention. I gasped as his fingers skimmed over the sensitive flesh and moaned when he gave them a good squeeze.

  I shook underneath Elliot’s touch. It took everything in me to remain still as he continued to explore my body with just his hands. One hand remained on a breast while the other dipped lower, following the curves of my body down to my most intimate part.

  “Elliot,” I gasped, unable to hold back the pleasure he created in me. I was wet for him, ready to feel all of him. His finger slipped inside of me, and I clenched around it.

  “Damn,” Elliot muttered. “You’re tight.” He pumped his finger in and out, making sure to give my clit the attention it needed too. Intense waves thrummed through me and my body arched.

  Oh Goddess. “So fucking good.”

  The pleasure in my core built, and I fought the urge to come already, before we got to the fun part. “No, not yet.” I reached between us, feeling the hardness of him press against the fabric of his pants.

  He moaned at my touch, and I made quick work of his buckle and zipper, until he was free. His cock stood tall, nothing holding it down as it begged for my attention. I was ready to fall apart but I wanted Elliot to do it with me.

  With just a touch of power, I was able to tear my panties so nothing stood between us. I lifted myself up and hovered over Elliot.

  His eyes were impossibly dark as he looked up at me, only the moonlight providing just enough light to see the adoration in his expression. I moaned at the loss of his finger when he pulled it out of me.

  “Easy,” he said, both his hands going to my waist to hold me. “Nice and slow, Laila. We have time.”

  “I know.” I lowered myself down slowly and gasped at the feel of him pressing against me. I went lower, my body shaking in anticipation. Slowly, inch by inch, I took him in as he stretched me. I cried out when I took in the last little bit and his dick twitched inside of me.

  I leaned forward, my fingers digging into his shoulder as he took on more of my weight.

  “You feel so good, Laila.” Elliot moaned and flexed his hips.

  “Fuck.” I gasped and rolled my hips in response.

  We created a rhythm together as we moved. I tried to go faster, but Elliot kept a hold of me, steadying me, forcing me to take it slower. Torture. He was torturing me.

  Heat whirled around in my stomach as my body tightened. My orgasm built slowly, each rocking of our body adding to the delicious pleasure. Whenever I tried to ride him harder, he forced me to remain slow. My muscles clenched, and I could feel him tensing underneath me.

  Finally, his control snapped, and his pace quickened. I rode him hard, screaming out my pleasure, not caring who or what heard us. He felt so damn good. My name kept escaping his lips as he whispered it.

  I came hard and for once understood the true danger of what going slow did to the body. It was a tidal wave, a massive release of pleasure that had built up. Waves after waves went through me, and I could hear Elliot underneath me finding his own release.

  Elliot wrapped his arms around me and held me close as we both came down from
our orgasms.

  “Damn,” I said. “Damn. Damn. Damn.”

  Chuckling, Elliot asked, “Is that a good damn?”

  “More than good, fucking perfect.”

  We both laughed and just lay there, cuddling for a while.

  When it was time to leave, neither of us needed to say anything. We were still high off our time together. Goofy grins kept being shared all the way home and when we exchanged kisses in front of my house, well, it was almost as hot as the sex we’d had.

  Chapter Five

  I was making the dark dirt my bitch. Despite it being winter, I was determined to make headway with my garden. So, I bundled up and sat on the frozen ground, trying to break its barrier to get to the soil underneath.

  “Just give in,” I said to the ground. “Then you’ll be happy, and I’ll be happy, and we can be happy together.”

  The only reason I was torturing myself in the mid-morning with this was because of how particular and picky drastanas plants were. They flourished in the freezing cold, and it also slowed down the growth of their roots so they didn’t strip the soil of all its nutrients before spring had a chance to come.

  Drastanas were prickly flowers with vibrant blue petals that looked more like ribbons floating upward. People were often fooled by their prettiness, but the stem had thorns and the ribbon-liked flower was razor sharp. They needed to be handled with care. I glared at the box of bulbs next to me. They were the ones I hated most when it came to planting them. Taking care of them was easy. I only had to make sure their buds grew in the freezing cold and were watered once a week. By the time spring hit, they would be ready to bloom, which was when they needed the warmth so they could bud.

  Fascinating flowers, just a bit of a pain, because planting in winter was always hard. It normally wouldn’t have been bad if I could use my power, but I wasn’t in the mood to create a crater in my backyard. That was a real possibility with how my training had been going so far.

  So I took a good old-fashioned trowel and stabbed it into the rock-hard, frozen ground while grumbling at myself. It was kind of therapeutic. My aunt was going to be there soon, any minute really, and I was internally freaking out. I heard what Dwight said, even understood him to a degree, but again, no point of reference.

  What was it like to have family? What were the expectations?

  And if I went deeper than that, the questions turned scarier.

  What if I was a disappointment? What if she didn’t like me?

  I snorted, feeling like a little girl again with my thoughts. I was all too familiar with these emotions, having them when I had to meet new foster parents. There was one difference though, she was of blood. Did I want her to like me?

  Yes. And I wanted her to want to stick around too. I didn’t want her to think I was an obligation. I didn’t want her to do what she was expected to do, what she needed to do, because someone determined she needed to. I wanted her there for me, because she wanted to be there.

  “Fuck.” The emotions nearly choked me. I wanted to throw up. Fear. Anxiety. Doubt. All three worked together in harmony to drag me down with them. Taking my aggression out, I stabbed at the ground harder as I focused on breathing. Breathing was easy, automatic, and yet, my chest froze whenever I didn’t mentally think to draw air into my lungs.

  My hands shook, and the trowel clanked to the unforgiving ground. Similar to my lungs as they refused to work. Briefly the thought of a panic attack crossed my mind, but I was too busy panicking to hold onto that thought. I wheezed, fighting to draw in air.

  I wasn’t sure what happened. I was pretty sure I lost consciousness briefly because when I blinked, the ground was closer, my shaking arms barely holding me up. My fingers curled into the dead grass, cold dirt making its new home in my nails.

  As I took in a wheezing breath, my cell phone went off. It rang again, and I focused on that sound. Having that focus helped me calm down enough to sit up straight, sitting back on my calves. After the fourth ring, I finally answered.

  “Yeah?” I winced at the croak in my voice.

  “Dr. Laila Porter?”

  I moved the phone and tried to quietly clear my throat. When I spoke again, it was clearer. “This is her.”

  “Hello, Dr. Porter. My name is Has. I’m calling on behalf of the Council.”

  He paused, no doubt expecting an answer from me. I didn’t respond, wishing I could hang up on him instead. I never thought they’d give me a call. I did my best to avoid them, and they did their best to bend me to their will. Neither of us were getting what we wanted.

  “Right. Necos has requested to meet with you. Atasha Cornaith is here.”

  “Hold on right there. My aunt is already there?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s my understanding that the Council wished to meet with her, and when she arrived at Springer, someone picked her up.”

  With a voice as frozen and hard as the ground underneath my feet, I asked, “Where?”

  “Downtown, at the Colonial Tower.”

  “I see.” My jaw ached as I ground my teeth together. “I’ll be there.”

  “Excellent. They will be waiting.”

  “I bet,” I muttered as I hung up on him. I stared at the phone for a minute before climbing to my feet and going inside.

  As I made my way to my bedroom, I paused at an open door, peeking inside. Atasha’s bedroom while she stayed with me. The room had all the basics, a bed, a dresser, a walk-in closet, and a window with a nice view of the backyard. Anything she wanted to add, she’d have to do on her own.

  I tried to imagine living with someone, what it’d be like to have another person moving around in this massive empty house. Biting my lip, I went by the bedroom and up the last flight of stairs to the third floor to my room. It didn’t take long to clean up and leave. I rushed the process, refusing to leave Atasha in the hands of the Council. There was no telling what they’d try to do, and I didn’t know Atasha well enough to know if she’d see through their bullshit or not.

  Atasha had to be their wet dream. Since learning I was an elementalist, they had been trying to use me to build a relationship between the elementalists and the city. They learned quickly that I didn’t care, and after being used for most of my childhood for an extra check or for my magic, I refused to allow them to use me. Dwight backed me up. I think they expected him to be on their side, but he blew them off. Another reason I liked him so damn much. But now they had my aunt and there was no telling what they were filling her head with.

  The drive to Colonial Tower was fast, and I may have broken a law or two to get there. I didn’t care. I didn’t want the Council twisting around my aunt’s thoughts to fit their needs.

  I pulled up to the curve, not bothering to park properly. No one would be able to touch my truck, even if they wanted to do something to it, like towing it away. I grinned at the thought. Let the assholes try.

  They had one of those rotating doors, and I shoved through, bumping into a man about half a foot taller than me. His eyes were a blazing gold, and when they focused on me, a snarl escaped him.

  Freezing, my eyes widened at the sudden aggression coming off him. The man had shaggy dark brown hair that looked like he’d been pulling on it too often lately. There was a healing cut on his forehead, and his shirt and jeans were rumpled. A tear started at the collar and exposed more of his tanned skin. That meant I got a good look at a cut that ran from his collarbone down to underneath his shirt, close to his pectoral muscle.

  He snarled again. “Move.”

  “No reason to get all growly,” I teased him and stepped to the side. He shoved by, brushing against me. His energy snapped at me. Hating the contact, the shifter released another deep rumble as he pushed through the rotating door and left.

  “So sorry,” I said with as much enthusiasm as I could muster before turning and approaching the man sitting behind a fancy L-shaped desk.

  “Dr. Porter here to pick up Atasha,” I
said.

  The man had been scowling at the shifter, but now that he was gone, his attention turned to me. He stood up, tall and lanky. Even his limbs were longer than they should have been, adding a sense of disproportion as he came around the desk with a big grin.

  “Of course, Dr. Porter. They’re waiting for you. Let me show you the way.” He turned briefly to the other man and gave some kind of hand signal. The other man nodded, looking bored as he switched his focus back down to the paperback in his hands.

  At a brisk pace, he led the way to the elevators and called it. He wasn’t in a talking mood, and I was okay with that. I was too busy screaming inside, trying to hide my panic.

  The ride was quick, and before I knew it, I stood in front of double doors. The man opened it and stepped inside. There was low murmuring until he came back out with a grin.

  “They are ready for you.”

  Blowing out a breath, I went inside to find a roomy conference room. They even had a bar full of refreshments along one wall. The other side of the room was all windows that overlooked the city. Colonial Tower truly was a tower. It was the second largest building in the city at sixty floors, and we had ridden the elevator to the very top.

  The room was full of people, and it took me a moment to realize all thirteen beings were here. I recognized the three I had already met, but the other ten were complete strangers to me.

  Atasha sat with her back to me at the table, an older looking man at her side. With a strained smile, she turned in her seat.

  “Amaorah, it is such a pleasure to see you again. Please, come sit.” She motioned to the chair next to her. With all the eyes on me, I knew I couldn’t just grab her and drag her out of the room. That would be rude, and it would piss off all the Councilmembers. That was the last thing I wanted. I was fine with a handful of them not liking me, but it’d be my death sentence to make all of them an enemy.

  The Council were the leaders of our city, all thirteen of them pulled from the largest supernatural factions in the city. It was rare to see them all together like this—and probably dangerous.

  I settled in my chair and glanced around, noting the ones who looked the most human-like Maev and Necos, to the ones who were definitely not human at all like the troll who sat in a wide chair to fit his large frame. His skin was greenish, and he stood at about nine feet tall. He was bulky, with pointed ears, a bulbous nose, and when he smiled at me, pointy teeth. He had to be a shaman. Only shaman trolls had the ability to lead their people; the others were too busy trying to smash things and eat animals still alive, kicking and screaming.

 

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