by Cece Rose
“You don’t have to,” he reassures me, resting a hand on my shoulder. The feel of the magic moving around inside of me intensifies, and I find myself leaning into his touch instead of away from it.
“Thank you.”
“Why did you really come here? You’ve been ignoring me since what happened that night. I thought you’d have wanted my help with the situation, but I guess I can see you didn’t require my help…” he trails off, his hand slides from my shoulder to my forearm, but his touch remains soft.
“I should have called, I’m sorry.” I lean forward, resting my forehead against the top of his chest, leaving my head tucked under his chin. His arms don’t hesitate to curl around me, encasing me in a hug. I breathe in deeply, trying to concentrate on the magical energy flowing between the two of us as we’re pressed close. But the longer we stay connected, the more intense the feeling becomes. As if it’s not just us pressed against each other, but our magic too. My magic in both of us, and somehow a part of him in us both as well.
“Kayla?” he whispers.
“Hmm?”
“Are you—”
I cut him off with a glance as I look up at him, silencing him with only the look in my eyes. Without warning, his lips ensnare mine into a kiss, and the energy flowing through me seems to rush through him too, before passing back to me in a huge wave of power. I push it back toward him, and it flows through us on a continuous loop as he kisses me. As I continue to kiss him back. Reality hits me like a bucket of ice water over my head.
“We can’t do this.” I pull away from him, breathing heavily. Does it count if he kissed me? Did I pull away quick enough?
Kier immediately releases me and takes a step back himself, putting a little more space between us. With his retreat, a prickling sensation begins to dance along my skin. It’s uncomfortable. Like an itch that can’t be scratched as it passes over every inch of me.
“What’s wrong, did I misread that?” he asks, concern in his eyes, as if he may have done something wrong. He runs a hand through his messy, sandy blond hair. I start to wonder if the messy hair is really a style choice, or if his nervous habit just has the side effect of making him look even more attractive than he already is.
“Yes,” I answer, but I feel the lie even as it leaves my tongue and try to correct myself. “No. Maybe...? I don’t really know. I shouldn’t have come over here.”
“Which is it?” The concern in his eyes is quickly fading, and I’m not sure how to decipher the look that’s replacing it.
“I’m with Darren now,” I blurt out. There. The truth is out there. Well, most of it, anyway…
“Exclusively?” he presses, without a second of hesitation.
“What?” My eyes widen, the prickling sensation increases as Kier steps away again, though he doesn’t seem any further away. I look down. Without realising it, I stepped forward to keep close to him. What the hell am I doing? What the hell did that fucking demon do to me? To all of us?
“Are the two of you seeing each other exclusively? Is it a monogamous relationship?” he clarifies.
“Umm…” I stare blankly at him for a moment, and he sighs. “Yes,” I finally answer. “It is.”
“I wish you’d told me that before I kissed you, Harlow,” Kier says slowly, his voice sounding a little lower than usual as he speaks. I step closer, feeling relief as the prickling sensation dissipates when I’m near him. As if he cools my skin, soothing away the irritation that possessed me only seconds before.
“It’s my fault,” I hurry to explain, licking my lips nervously, a movement that he seems to watch closely. “I just wanted to see what the magic would do if I came close to you.”
“I guess we know now—”
“What do we know?” I demand, needing to know exactly what he’s feeling on his end. Because on my end, the desire to touch him gnaws at me from inside out. How can he act so calmly if he’s feeling the same way? Is it possible there’s more than the demon’s ritual to blame for what I’m feeling?
“That it reacts to being in close proximity to each other. I swear, I could almost feel it was you outside earlier, but I thought it too ridiculous, so I left Camille to open the door,” Kier tells me as he grabs himself a drink from inside the fridge. A plain black bottle. No way to see what’s inside.
I swallow past the lump forming in my throat and try not to breath in too deeply for fear of a particular scent filling my nostrils. Regardless, I still follow him, while also attempting not to move so close that he’ll feel the need to step away from me.
“I think I should go.” Contrary to my words, my feet don’t move.
“You probably should.” His words hurt me more than I expect them to.
“Will you still help me?” I ask him, more for a reason to still be standing here than for the answer itself.
“Harlow, I’m not about to abandon you just because we’re not sleeping together.” He frowns at the thought before continuing, “We’re friends now. There were some mixed signals, but you’ve cleared those up for me now. Just give me a second for my feelings to catch up on the matter. Because after everything, even though it sounds ridiculous for having only known you for a few months, I feel like we’re connected.”
“No kidding.” I try and consciously push the flow of energy towards him, across the kitchen, wondering if it’ll work without the physical touch. He frowns again for a split-second, before smiling and pushing the wave back at me. The magic tumbles through me, sending a different type of sensation rushing over my skin.
“I meant more as… friends, rather than your magic linking us together,” he explains.
“I know. I just couldn’t help but see the humour in what you’d said,” I reply, zipping up my jacket in an attempt to prepare myself to step outside. Like I’m consciously making the decision to go. “I should actually go now,” I say aloud, again trying to prompt myself.
“Let me walk you to the door, or maybe I could portal you somewhere?” he offers graciously.
“No, please. Just let me see myself out.” I force myself to take steps, feeling the prickling sensation return. I pause in the kitchen doorway. “Do you feel that?”
“Feel what?”
“Nothing, probably just my overactive imagination.” I force a laugh. “Just ignore me. Thanks for the water, Kier. I’ll donate the dress to goodwill or something.” I see him start to object and wave him off. “I’ll message you later so we can talk about how we’re going to get my powers back to me. Maybe erasing the connection will help clear up those signals?” I muse, hoping the change in conversation is enough to distract him, considering the subject.
“I hope so. Don’t get lost on your way out,” he teases, leaning against the counter as I walk away.
With each step, I feel the prickling sensation intensify, until I finally reach the front door, where it suddenly vanishes. I let out a long sigh, feeling relief flow through my damned bones at getting away from whatever that was. Leaning against the wall outside for some stability, I breathe in harsh, ragged breaths. Despite my sudden fatigue, in my head I begin working on my plan.
There’s only one source for more information on that freaking ritual. And I’ll need to summon him if I have any hope of figuring out an alternative solution to this mess…
Three
A Hellish Problem
“Solas, I summon you,” I call out from where I stand in the middle of my dining room. My circles are set, and I’ve placed an unlit black candle at the northern point of the room. I’m taking precautions, the demon’s dislike of being trapped be damned. After what he pulled, I’m not taking any chances.
I tap my foot impatiently on the ground as I wait for him to appear. “Anytime now would be great,” I snap, irritated with his theatrics. I need to be at Darren’s place in a few hours, but even if I didn’t, I’d still want to get this over with as soon as possible. I tug a hair tie off from my wrist and throw my hair up into a messy ponytail as I wait.
Finally, there’s a shift in the air, and the candle flickers to life. The scent of brimstone tickles my nose, and I stare expectantly into the circle, but see nothing. “Damn it, Solas. I know you’re here!” I accuse, glaring at the empty space.
I hear a dramatic sigh, and then Solas’ body flickers into place. Well, visibly it does. Physically he’d been standing there since the candle had lit. He leans forward and taps the tragically thin veil of magic that makes up one of the circles enclosing him.
“I could break this with the magic in my little finger,” Solas informs me happily, a shimmer of amusement playing in his dark eyes as he lifts his hand up and wriggles the finger at me. “In fact, maybe that’s your little slice of magic in there.”
“Well, as soon as you tell me all of the ways for me to get my magic back, we can fix that,” I retort, irritated beyond belief that he probably isn’t wrong. Despite regaining one fourth of my magic back from Darren, it feels more like four percent. I’m barely magical at all right now. The stupid demon probably does have more magic in his little finger right now. The circle holding, even as fragile and thin as it is, is a miracle in itself.
“All of the ways?” he finally echoes slowly, a smile curving his lips. “Little witch, you and I both know there’s only one way to retrieve your magic. Considering you’ve managed to cast any kind of circle at all, I know you’ve figured out exactly what that thing is too.”
“No, there is another way, there has to be. You just don’t want to tell me for whatever sick, twisted reason,” I accuse him. I’m not going to be stupid enough to trust his words, not anymore. “Tell me what my other options are, now.”
“It’s an old and simple spell, with only one way of working and one way of reversing, but deep down, I think you already know that.” He pauses, staring at me for a second and then his grin grows wider. My stomach drops. Whatever he just thought of cannot be good for me. “Which one of them did you take your magic back from, little witch? It wasn’t that ridiculous fae, was it? I just know he’ll be even more insufferable if that’s the case.”
I freeze, more than a little horrified at his new line of questioning. Demons are meant to rip your still beating heart from your chest and crush it before your eyes, not ask you about your sex life. Maybe my demon is just defective?
“No, surely not. The hybrid, perhaps?” He shakes his head, gesturing at me. “No, there aren’t any new vampire bites on your skin... That leaves just one option, the shifter. I’m surprised it’s the mutt that lured you into bed first, but it was inevitable you’d crack for one of them. How long did it take you? I mean, to figure it all out. I’m not asking how long you spent fucking him, not that you aren’t welcome to share the details with me if you so wish. Could be at least mildly interesting. Maybe even a little informative, for future reference.”
“You’re disgusting,” I inform him, shooting a furious glare at him through the circle. I clench my hands, trying not to snap at his assumptions, furious that he so easily figured it out. That he even knows enough about me to put it together.
“How are the side effects treating you? I’ve heard they can vary greatly,” Solas pries. His tone and gestures are goading, trying to evoke a reaction from me.
“Go to hell,” I mutter, and he chuckles.
“Inventive.” He doesn’t look any less amused as he chides me. Like the cat that got the cream.
“Screw you.”
“You’re welcome to if you’d just drop this pesky little circle. I’d do it myself, but it’s just too tragic. I said I’d give you your magic back if you asked me to, and I’m nothing if not a demon of my word.”
“You’re unbelievable. Find another way to give me my magic back, I am not having sex with you,” I tell him, giving the demon an incredulous look. What would sex with a demon be like? My mind shamefully wanders a little.
“Satisfying,” he announces, drawing my attention back to him and reality.
“What?” I question, blinking to clear my head.
“You’re wondering what it would be like to sleep with me, are you not? It would be satisfying.” He looks so certain and full of himself right now. Goddess, what I would give to knock that smirk off his dumb, demonic face.
“Actually, it was more along the lines of demon sex and its risks in general. I was curious if it would, you know, damn a witch’s soul or not? Oh, and if demons really do have super STDs. I’m sure I’ve seen that on a poster in a church somewhere?” I retort in a snarky tone.
“Charming. It’s no wonder the mutt was so eager to have a roll in the crate with you. How could anyone resist that sunshine personality of yours?” the demon drawls, the smirk still not wavering.
“This was a stupid idea. You’re absolutely no help at all.” Biting my lip, I realise that I’ll need to try and find help elsewhere, because sleeping with a demon to get my magic back is not a viable option. Neither is having sex with Kier or Rhydian. Goddess, how am I going to explain this to Darren? Should I even try to explain this to Darren?
“I offered my assistance, it’s not my fault you’re a prude. I could give you the night of your life, and I wouldn’t even steal your soul for the pleasure. Not many witches get a proposition like that. The fact you haven’t immediately jumped on my offer is frankly a little insulting,” Solas responds regardless.
“Prude? You think because I don’t want to have sex with you, a demon, someone that’s not only threatened to kill me multiple times, but also caused major chaos in my life since you first showed up in this very fucking dining room, that I’m a prude? Why the hell would you ever think I’d sleep with you? It has nothing to do with me, and everything to do with you and what you are!” I rant furiously, feeling my cheeks flush. The smell of brimstone feels thick as I breathe in, despite the lack of demonic magic in use.
“Kayla Harlow, you summoned me, you struck the deal, and you trapped me in a feline form. You are the sole cause of your own misery, not I. I merely assisted you whenever, and wherever, you requested. I have not killed you, or even maimed you, despite multiple opportunities to do so. And finally, my species is irrelevant in this agreement. We’d be attempting a magical transfer, not trying to make a child.”
“Leave,” I demand, incapable of saying anything else. I know the flush on my cheeks has likely deepened, going from a light pink blush to full on tomato cheeks. This conversation cannot be happening.
“That’s not how this works.” Solas crosses his arms, and I’m suddenly distinctly aware of the fact he’s just as scantily clothed as usual. However, my eyes linger more than they usually do over his ink-covered skin.
Did he always look this good?
“Your magic will want to re-join with itself, it will do whatever it can to make that possible.” His words snap me out of my staring.
“What are you saying?” I look back up to his face, staring him right in his black eyes.
“It can manifest in different ways. Maybe your magic will act out, in attempt to force you to take action. It could cause you discomfort, or maybe even death if you make the energy mad enough.”
“You’re talking about magic as if it’s sentient…” I trail off, letting my unasked question hover in the air, praying the demon will continue. I’m hopeful he will, at least; Solas does seem to like the sound of his own voice.
“You think it’s not? Your magic is reactive without the need for thought when you are young and still learning, before spells become practiced and the natural flow is given a new, more precise order. Before you took control of your magic, it held control of you. Or that’s how it happens for most. With your old necklace, I’m assuming you never experienced much raw magic as a child?” he asks casually.
“Not really. My childhood was magically uneventful. Other than the time I turned this one girl into a cat…” I trail off, my lips curling into a smile at the memory despite everything.
“How many people have you converted into feline form?” he inquires, obvious distaste lacing his words.<
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“Just the two. Wait, I tried to turn myself into one too, if that counts, but it didn’t work. So instead, I just drew on some whiskers with my friend Lizzy’s eyeliner and called it good enough.”
He laughs, the sound sending a shiver down my spine. Once he quiets, he stares at me for a second before announcing, “I must leave now, unless you’ve reconsidered my offer?”
“Not a chance,” I answer firmly. “Dream on. There will be no reconsideration happening here.”
“Well, little witch, you should hope that I don’t reconsider my position on cutting off your head and impaling it on a spike. It’s such a pretty head, I’m sure it would strike up a lot of conversations from my guests,” he responds in a cold, low tone. “If you are so opposed to the necessary method of retrieval, I suppose I shall just have to take care of your magic for the rest of my long, demonic life. You’re used to living without magic anyway, just a glorified human with a slightly extended lifespan, really.”
“Solas, I banish you!” I snap, my anger boiling over. “Go to hell and burn there.”
The candle flickers out, snatching my attention, as a last waft of brimstone floats through the air. My eyes move back to where Solas had been trapped in my circle, but the space is now empty. The prickling feeling moves across my skin again, and I shudder, waiting for the feeling to fade. At least I didn’t kiss the stupid demon.
Well, not this time, anyway…
My thoughts fly back to the time before this that I summoned him. Kissing him for the ritual to divide my magic between them all. Him kissing me senseless, when all that had been required was a basic, quick kiss. What had been his aim there, to put me on edge? Or had he just wanted to do it?
I shake my head. Thoughts like this are getting me nowhere fast. Dwelling on dreams, magically-manipulated feelings, and demonic rituals isn’t going to solve this. I need to find a creative solution. And to do that, I need a creative witch.
