The clairvoyant’s magic stirred, reaching out to caress me lightly. But no foreign power was present in the room.
I stepped away from the door, noticing a soft glow emanating up the stairs. Firelight.
I paused, reaching out farther with my senses.
A sorcerer was in the house. His magic was quiet, inactive.
Aiden.
In the front sitting room.
I stepped back into my room for my robe, brushing my fingers over the destroyed rune on the top edge of my bureau. As far as I could feel, the magic that had once powered it was completely gone.
Someone was entering my dreams. Someone capable of doing so from enough of a distance that I couldn’t sense them. Someone powerful enough to forge a visceral connection with me, getting through all the magical defenses I’d stolen at the behest of the Collective for years.
And they were showing me the witch, Opal. Why?
I reached over my shoulder, touching the tattoo that tied me to Bee. It was still dormant.
I had the feeling I was going to be requesting more reference books from Ember Pine in the morning. Specifically, anything to do with dream magic.
I tugged on my robe, then headed downstairs to interrogate a sorcerer.
Aiden was sprawled across the couch facing the curtained windows, legs akimbo, head back, eyes closed, breathing deeply. He’d fallen asleep reading a leather-bound book, still open across his chest. Though I couldn’t make out the markings on its spine, the cover was a deep brown. So not a book from my meager collection.
A fire was burning brightly in the fireplace. The flames were licked through with tints of blue, indicating that Aiden had started it by magical means. Candles I didn’t even know we owned were arrayed and lit on every flat surface of the room. The overhead light and lamp were off. The old wooden clock that sat on the mantel quietly ticked away.
I had never noticed that the clock made noise before.
Three more leather-bound books were splayed open on the coffee table, along with a sheaf of handwritten notes and a notebook. The open page was filled halfway down with neat but cramped writing.
Aiden was researching something.
I had questions, ideas rolling around in my head that I wanted to share with someone.
No.
Not just someone. With Aiden, specifically. I wanted to speak unhindered, as I had begun to do in our letters. Though admittedly, it had taken me months to get comfortable with that medium of communication.
I settled down on the opposite couch, my back to the window, sitting next to the fire. The candles on the side table fluttered as I passed. I glanced over at Aiden, curling my legs under me.
He was awake, gazing back at me without otherwise moving. His expression was intense, but it held none of its usual sharpness. Perhaps that guardedness was dampened in his sleepy state. Or perhaps there was no need to pretend to not look at me. As I, too, didn’t need to look away.
“Did I wake you?” he asked quietly.
His deep, gravel-filled voice turned my insides to mush. And for the briefest moment, I imagined crawling from the couch, moving over to him, then onto his lap, removing any clothing that stood between my skin touching his.
“Emma?”
I shook my head. “It was a dream. Same dream, but different.”
He frowned, straightening. The book fell from his chest, and he momentarily looked away to catch it and set it on the table. The loss of his gaze was like stepping into a cold pocket of shade when I wanted only to be warm in the sun.
I forced myself to look at the fire, before my brain dissolved into a mush of absurd thoughts.
“The power went out.”
Ah. That was why I could hear the clock ticking. The ever-present electrical hum of the house was silent. I shifted forward. “I should tell Christopher.”
Aiden lifted his hand, staying my movement. “The generator turned on for the incubator.”
“But there’s no fireplace in the loft.”
He smiled. “No. And the jet lag is keeping me wakeful.”
“And the meeting with your brother.” From the lower vantage point of the couch, I could see the edge of the envelope Isa had given Aiden from his father underneath one of the open books.
Aiden followed my gaze. “I haven’t opened it. Honestly, I’m slightly concerned that doing so will trigger … events.” He lifted his gaze to me. The firelight danced across his skin, deepening it, warming it. “And I found … I just wanted to be here with you a little while longer.”
“You think the contents of the letter are spelled?”
He shrugged. “I’ll open it in the pentagram in the loft. So even if it’s designed to reveal my location, or simply the fact that I’ve opened and read it, it won’t be able to.”
“The pentagram, with you within it, won’t stop the contents of the letter from killing you,” I said softly.
He laughed, quietly pained. “If Kadar Azar wanted me dead, I’d be dead. All he has to do is cast a spell bound with his own blood.”
That was disturbing. I had no idea that was even possible. “Does a familial blood tie work in the opposite direction?”
“Can a child kill his parent with his own blood? Perhaps. But the wielder would need to be stronger than the intended target. That’s rarely the case for offspring in their younger years, and I am most certainly not as powerful as my father.”
He wasn’t. Yet.
“I could make you that powerful,” I whispered.
My offer settled between us, heavy within the comfort, the ease that had been building in the room.
Aiden sat back on the couch, hands loose at his sides. He smiled, almost gently. “I know, Emma. Eventually perhaps, over many years of being together, you could make me his match …” He glanced down at the coffee table, adding in a hushed whisper, “Your match.”
“Well,” I drawled, trying to lighten the mood, “I wouldn’t go that far.”
He laughed, though I really wasn’t that funny. Then he sobered, his gaze still on his notes. “You know that’s not what I want.”
“It chills me … upsets me.” I struggled to voice the fear that had etched itself across my heart at the revelation of how easily his father could kill him from afar. “I don’t like being upset. Not when I can do something about it.”
“I wear protections, of course. And if I do suddenly drop without warning, you have my express permission to do whatever you can to thwart the death curse.”
“Don’t make fun, Aiden. Don’t make fun of … me, my … feelings …”
He was off the couch and kneeling by me before I managed to get the thought out. “I’m sorry. I would never … you were teasing earlier, yes? I was just trying to match your tone.”
I reached out and brushed my fingers through the dark hair at his temples.
He closed his eyes as if savoring my touch. “I’m sorry about Isa and Ruwa.”
“I care nothing about your brother, or your former lover.”
He opened his eyes, smiling at me. “Of course you don’t.”
“I was just concerned about your father showing up as well.”
“Christopher would have seen that if it were so. And then we’d fight him. Together. He won’t keep you, Emma. Not ever again.”
“No. He won’t.” I dropped my hand, trailing it along Aiden’s shoulder and bicep. The fabric of his sweater protecting his skin from my touch, from my empathy. “But …”
“But?”
“But your father would know how to block Christopher’s sight.”
Aiden looked disconcerted. Then his eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “No. He only used to know.”
“What do you mean?”
“You two were drained of magic, yes? When you broke out of the compound where you were housed?”
“Yes,” I said, slightly tensely. I hadn’t gone into detail about our escape from the Collective, simply explaining that it had happened and we’d survived.
; “And it took years for Christopher’s magic to come back?”
I didn’t correct Aiden’s loose understanding of the timeline, picking up the gist of his argument. “More powerful than before.”
He nodded, smugly satisfied. “And then living in close contact with you for almost eight years, yes?”
My amplification magic leaked, especially while I slept. “Yes.”
“So the sorcerer Azar might try to block Christopher’s sight. But he might not be successful.”
“That’s too many ‘mights.’ ”
Aiden laughed quietly.
I trailed my fingers down his forearm, reluctant to break contact but knowing that we had too much to talk about to linger in the moment. Including the dream that had woken me.
Then I felt a smudge of magic under my fingertips. It crawled across my skin. I withdrew my hand, pushing up Aiden’s sweater sleeve.
A series of runes were etched around the thickest part of the sorcerer’s forearm, just below his elbow. An active spell. It felt like …
Nullifying magic.
I met Aiden’s gaze.
He grimaced, then cleared his throat. But he didn’t speak.
“You … you’re trying to block me?” I glanced at the books strewn out across the coffee table.
“No. It’s a refraction spell. Modified.”
“To refract my magic.” The idea actually physically hurt. I pulled away.
Aiden raised his hands.
As if he thought I was planning to attack him.
The pain in my chest expanded, instantly drowning all logic in its wake. “As if I would hurt you, drain you!”
“Emma. No, no.” He reached for me.
But I was no longer sitting on the couch. I had lunged forward, reaching for Aiden’s notes, then stepping back toward the open doorway with the book and the loose pages in hand.
He flinched, then tracked my movement as he slowly gained his feet.
I paged through his notebook, unable to see the words because — utterly idiotically — my eyes were filling with tears.
“You knew I was looking for a way … for a way for us to be together physically. Without you constantly thinking that … or feeling that you needed to hold back —”
“Right,” I scoffed, tossing the notebook back on the coffee table. I couldn’t read the rune-based language inscribed on its pages. “This is all for me.”
“That’s the point.” He shook his head. “Emma —”
“I’m not being unreasonable.”
He smiled, a flash of white teeth in the muted candlelight.
And for a moment, my mind stuttered, overwhelmed by his beauty, his charisma. I shoved the reaction away. “It’s me, Aiden. My magic. It’s who I am.”
“It’s part of you, yes. And I’m not …” He sighed heavily. “This conversation hasn’t gone like I’d hoped. Will you let me start it again?” He reached toward me.
I thought about walking away, about letting the pain, the rejection, resolve into anger. Then using that anger as a buffer against all the other overwhelming emotions that the mere sight, the mere thought, of Aiden evoked.
“Emma,” he whispered, hand still extended. “Please. I should have written. I just wanted to find the grimoire that I’d hoped the vampire had collected.”
“In San Francisco.”
“Yes. I’ve been tracking the bloody thing around the globe. A sorcerer in Scotland sent me to San Francisco. I was awaiting my audience when I got your note about Isa.” He shook his head. “Maybe I should have stayed. You can handle Isa. And Ruwa. But I jumped at the opportunity.”
“A refraction spell?” I asked, allowing logic to cool my anger. “Against any involuntary amplification?”
He grinned, relieved perhaps that I was willing to discuss his research. “A nullifying spell paired with a mirroring spell. So that if we …” His grin widened. “If we touch, then you don’t have to worry about —”
“Fueling your addiction.”
“Yes. When I come to your bed, I want you to know that I’m there for you, to pleasure you. To … make love to you.”
The word ‘love’ hung between us. It wasn’t the right time for such declarations — for me, it might never be the right time. But the sorcerer had phrased it carefully. I wanted to snatch the word up and press it to my heart. But that idea seemed ridiculous, so I smiled instead.
The moment stretched between us, filled with the warmth of the fire and the flickering candlelight, softening all the lingering ire, the misplaced rejection I’d felt.
“You aren’t going to be able to block me, Aiden,” I whispered, slightly regretfully. “No one can. Not long term.”
He stilled. “I’m not talking about your … alternative ability. Or the empathy.” Then he grinned. “Actually, I was thinking we might test the empathic ability.”
I laughed. “Of course you were.”
“Once we really know each other, I mean. Find out what the other likes and dislikes.” His grin widened. “Though I can’t imagine disliking any part of you that wanted to be connected to any part of me.”
“I’m not exactly sure what that means,” I whispered, shifting toward him. “But …” I shook my head, clearing it. This was an important conversation. My magical capacity was something Aiden needed to understand before we could move from inked words on scraps of paper to a physical relationship. “I’m not like other amplifiers. Eventually, I’ll erode any spell set against me.”
He frowned.
The ache that had quieted in my chest now lodged itself in my throat. I wrapped my hand around it, struggling to speak against it. It was ridiculous that emotion could be so overwhelming. I felt as though I was in a constant battle with myself. Shaky, unsure. I didn’t want any of that.
Except I did want Aiden. And apparently, this was part of the price of having him in my life.
“The Collective …” I started to say.
“You don’t have to talk about it, Emma.”
I shook my head. “I’m faster, stronger than I should be.”
“I know. I already know, Emma.”
“Resistant to magic, with a heightened immunity.” I locked my gaze to his. “Do you understand? I gain immunity.”
“What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger?”
“Exactly. Stolen power. Stolen from …” My voice cracked. “Dozens of Adepts. Those that didn’t die by my hand were most certainly disposed of by the Collective.”
“By my father,” Aiden spat.
I nodded. “He was one of them. You’re right to fear me.”
“I don’t fear you, Emma.”
I turned away.
Aiden stepped forward as if to block me, hands raised once more.
I almost shoved him away. Instead, I whirled toward him, ready to show him exactly how much I was to be feared. I thrust my hand toward his chest, already feeling the tenor of his magic lapping against my skin. As if it were drawn to me. He needed to know that he was walking with death when he stood next to me.
I hesitated.
Hesitated.
Me. Hesitating. With my breath tight in my chest and my heart racing. I didn’t want to hurt Aiden. I never wanted to hurt or scare Aiden.
He stepped forward, closing the space between us. My fingers splayed across his chest. His magic danced under my touch. I could feel his heart beating, fast, strong, steady.
He placed his hand over mine, pressing firmly as if he might have been trying to imprint my hand on his chest, on his heart.
And suddenly, there were too many layers of clothing between us.
I met his gaze.
“I don’t fear you, Emma,” he whispered. “I didn’t know … didn’t think that you’d see my attempt to block your amplification magic as a rejection —”
I kissed him. Lifting up on my toes, wrapping my arms around him, threading my fingers through his thick hair, I opened my mouth just enough to tease my tongue against his.
He groane
d, meeting my tongue urgently, grabbing my arms to crush me against him. Then he loosened his grip, only to bury his hands in my hair and cradle my head.
I wanted to run my hands all over him. I wanted to hold him, stroke him, feel his skin against mine. I wanted to meet his magic with my own. I tugged at the T-shirt he wore underneath his sweater, tucked into his jeans. Then my brain caught up with my desire.
I always did this. Sex was always on my terms. Solely my terms. With Daniel, with Mark. I initiated. I set the boundaries.
But Aiden had boundaries he also wanted in place.
He stilled, his hands slipping down my back, his touch gentle. “Emma?” He nipped at my bottom lip, sucking lightly.
I wanted to sink back into the moment. I wanted to let it move where it was steadily moving. But this … whatever this was building between Aiden and me, it had to be mutual. Even I knew that. I couldn’t just take what I wanted from him, not if I wanted a deeper connection. I pulled slightly away, murmuring against his lips. “Do you want to test the refraction spell?”
He groaned playfully. “I can already tell you it isn’t going to hold.”
I brushed a light kiss across his lips, reveling in the sensation, the unhindered contact. Trying to hold the moment in check while we negotiated the terms of our engagement. “I know you aren’t just here for my magic, Aiden. Why would you have left? Why stay away so long?”
He kissed me again, darting his tongue into my mouth as he slid his hand down to cup my ass and press me firmly against him. The hard length of him confirming that he was more than happy to move forward.
Move forward … with making love?
Without the magical protection he desired?
“Wait …” I murmured.
Aiden stilled, but didn’t pull away.
“I’m … sorry … I was just thinking that I’m forcing myself on you, and —”
“You’re not forcing yourself on me,” Aiden growled, tightening his grip on my ass.
“Magically,” I clarified. “That’s the same thing, isn’t it? The same as … not using a condom when your lover wants to use one?”
Bonds and Broken Dreams (Amplifier 2) Page 13
