Magical Midlife Meeting: A Paranormal Women's Fiction Novel (Leveling Up Book 5)

by K. F. Breene

  I shivered and suddenly couldn’t stand the distance between us. I couldn’t stand to hear his voice but not feel his touch. He needed to be closer. We needed to be closer.

  “Do you have a second to FaceTime?” I asked. If I couldn’t do it physically, I’d do it through the Ivy House bond. It would have to be enough.

  “Yeah, sure. I’ll call you back.”

  I hung up, bounced around in the bed organizing my pillows, and then lay down, splaying my hair out around my head. His heart throbbed in my chest, next to mine, something that had happened for the first time a couple of weeks ago. It should have felt strange, especially since I’d started life as a non-magical person, a Jane. But it didn’t. It was intimate and comforting.

  The phone rang for FaceTime, and I answered, unable to help the excited smile. His handsome face filled the screen, his eyes hooded with fatigue and his hair standing every which way. His head rested against leather, and I imagined he was probably on his couch.

  “Did you just get in?” I asked, feasting my eyes on him and enhancing Ivy House’s magical link between us, feeling the answer for myself. I immediately launched into healing his fatigue.

  His little grin said that my magical touch was appreciated. “Long night. I had a few direct challenges, one from a very strong shifter, and then a raiding party came through.”

  I furrowed my brow. “A raiding party? Like a bunch of Vikings?”

  He sighed and scrubbed his fingers through his hair. I loved seeing him like this. At home and on his own (or with me), he was able to be so expressive, unlike when he was in public and donning his “alpha” mask of non-emotion.

  “Basically, yeah,” he said. “They roll through and try to grab whatever they can. Or kill whoever they can. Or just create mayhem. It’s pretty standard for a newly established pack to suffer raiding parties. I’d thought I’d be immune, since my brother helped me set this place up and everyone knows I took down a phoenix, but no such luck.”

  “Oh. You should’ve let me know—I could’ve helped.”

  “Thanks, but it’s good. I used it as a training exercise. It cut into sleep time, though. I have a pretty packed day today. That’s the reason I called.” Frustration bled through the link. “Can you push off training for a few hours so I can stop by before I hit the bar?”

  “Or maybe you should use those few hours to get some rest, and I’ll try to kill the phoenix on my own?”

  He paused for a moment, and wariness trickled through our link. “Kill the phoenix? Did Cyra do something to piss you off?”

  I told him what she’d suggested. “It won’t set us back too much. Apparently her magic is like the gargoyles’—it responds differently when she has an alpha who calls her, and through the link I’ve figured out how to call her. So there won’t be much of a delay training-wise if I’m able to kill her. She’ll regrow to her adult size pretty quick.”

  “And if you aren’t?”

  “It’ll hurt like the blazes, and I’ll need to drink a half-dozen protein shakes for all the energy I’ll need to heal myself…”

  He issued a soft sigh. “If you think you’re up for it… I’d prefer to be there when you try, but…”

  “When I succeed, you mean.”

  His smile made my heart flutter. “Obviously. I’d prefer if you’d put it off until I can be there. I trust that she won’t go too far, but just in case.”

  “You’d prefer it, but you’ll defer to your alpha’s decision?”

  Hunger flashed in his eyes. I was the only person in the world who wouldn’t turn him rage-y if I talked about dominating him. Quite the opposite, actually. Bedtime wrestling was sexy as all hell, and I didn’t mind losing. Neither did he.

  His voice was low and rough. “If I must…”

  I ran my tongue along my bottom lip, catching his gaze.

  “Do you have a few minutes?” I asked, then panned the camera down my body, red lace barely covering my flesh. Pushing the covers down more, I dipped my hand between my spreading thighs.

  Desire flooded the link. My moan matched his.

  “An hour, at least…” His hand drifted south, and through the now extremely sensitive link I could feel our combined passion building higher.

  A few moments later, pleasure swept me away, pulsing hard and hot, leaving me wondering how long I could possibly resist the mating bond, and what sort of ritual a female gargoyle enacted once she’d finally chosen a mate.

  Two

  “Hey, Miss Ironheart.” Kace nodded as he entered the clearing, jet-black five o’clock shadow on his square face to match his hard onyx eyes. He’d come to town with Austin’s brother and stayed on as Austin’s second, his beta. Five grim-faced men and women followed behind him. “Alpha told us to report to you.”

  I nodded and glanced over at my team. The gargoyles had shifted into their flying forms—they were stronger like this, in the air or not—but they hadn’t taken to the skies. Elliot’s place seemed to be a collection of tunnels running through a mountain. Any fighting would be ground-bound, so my team had been practicing that way in preparation.

  “Just you guys?” I asked, wearing basketball sweats with buttons down the sides in case I had to change shape in a hurry. There were usually twice as many shifters.

  “Yeah. He said you’d have plenty to deal with.” Kace stopped in the clearing I usually used for practicing, in the woods behind the house.

  I glanced at Cyra, waiting patiently off to the side. I would have plenty to deal with, yes. The second I shot a spell at her, it was on.

  I blew out a breath. Austin had barely managed to defeat Cyra, and he’d endured incredible pain. That guy could handle an awful lot without passing out.

  I could not.

  “Right, then. Let’s do this.” I clapped as Niamh skittered around to my back in her little gremlin form. She was a dirty fighter in any form, but this one, all teeth and claws, still haunted my nightmares. Didn’t matter that she was on my side.

  Kace and the shifters stripped with quick economy and changed into wolves, he the brawniest of the bunch. One sleek brown one—Isabelle—had been around a few times before, and she always managed to get through my defenses and tackle me. While my magical shield kept her claws and teeth from finding purchase, she always knocked the wind out of me, and it hurt like Hades when I hit the ground.

  My crew and the shifters spread out around me, encircling me. Nervous flutters filled my belly and my small hairs stood on end. God, I hated this. Being surrounded by vicious predators, even though they were my vicious predators, freaked me out every time.

  Breathing deeply, staying calm, I slipped a defensive spell on each of them before coating myself in magic twice as strong. Every spell I did would bounce off them and fly back at me, stronger and more potent. My shield would soak it in and store it up. When it came time to knock out Cyra, I’d let loose all of that stored-up energy and hope for the best.

  Who was I kidding? I’d probably let it loose and then run like hell. Maybe I should’ve waited for Austin…

  Hollace, in his human form, wearing battle leathers and really handy at hand-to-hand combat, offered me a slight nod. Now or never.

  I gritted my teeth and hit Kace with a laser beam of magic, using a punch of force that would have blasted a hole through his body if he hadn’t been protected. His fierce growl ran up my spine. My magic slapped off his shield, knocking him back. I didn’t want to kill anyone (well, anyone other than Cyra), but I was fine with bashing them around.

  The spell zipped back to me as I pushed out another one in an arc, curving it around from my position so it punched into everyone’s shields. Hollace gritted his teeth and took one step back, fighting it, but Ulric flew off his feet and tumbled end over end through the air. Jasper nearly followed, flapping his wings to stay put.

  Niamh recovered the quickest, and she was mid-leap by the time I got my hands up again, creating a magical net in the air and spinning her into it. I weighted the spell and s
pun again, knowing it would drop straight down and she’d have to chew through it, or however she dealt with magic. I never got enough time to watch.

  One of the big timber wolves lunged. And then another, and another. I slammed them out of the way, barely able to do spells fast enough to keep them off me. A jet of fire hit my shield from the side and heat bled through my world, so potent that it singed my hair.

  I jogged away, sending a cooling blast at Cyra. But I had yet to master elemental magic, and the blast only neutralized her fire instead of countering it. A furry body hit me from the side. Freaking Isabelle!

  I flexed my shield, using some of the accumulated magic to blast her off. Then I sent another repulsion spell at the shifters and a wall of blistering pain at the gargoyles, who were advancing much less gracefully than their shifter counterparts. Little clawed hands grabbed my leg, and I just barely caught sight of a gaping mouthful of razor-sharp teeth ready to chomp down before I quickly released more stored magic at Niamh.

  Sweating now, I redoubled my efforts, blasting Kace away, keeping Hollace at bay, and knocking Nathanial, the newest gargoyle in our crew, backward. Isabelle slunk behind two of her crew, waiting for an opportunity. I spun to fling a bruiser of a spell at the wolves, but a weight banged into the center of my back, shoving me forward. Before I could regroup, a foot sped for my face. Hollace’s.

  I yanked my weight backward, seeing the dirt on his sole as it barely missed my face. That would’ve hurt.

  I’d arched too far back, though. My bones groaned. My muscles couldn’t hold the awkward position. I tumbled to the ground, and the shifters were on me immediately, pinning me, trying to get at my jugular.

  Fear overwhelmed me, the primal part of me screaming that they were going for the kill. That if I allowed them at my throat, I was done for. That was the benefit to training like this: I did forget, and it allowed me to fight like I really was struggling for my life.

  My gargoyle form exploded out, my wings snapping along the ground, one tweaking painfully against my sweats before the confining material ripped away. Magic ballooned from me, a nasty spell I’d learned from the second Ivy House training book rippling outward from my defensive layer. Furry bodies blasted off me. An acidic gale eroded their protective shields, bearing into them without mercy.

  I sprang to my feet, fighting the lingering terror, knowing I had my salvation in my magical arsenal.

  I pounded everyone with another nasty spell. The dangerous parts didn’t make it through their shields, but the sheer power battered them around the field. Niamh was up first, never down for long, and I sent a magical explosion her way. I’d always been good at blowing things up. She zoomed sky-high from the concussion, her gremlin form almost comical as it zipped through the treetops. The shifters followed.

  Cyra stepped forward, slipping out from behind a tree. I knew immediately that she was on the offensive. She must have decided I might not go for her plan unless she goaded me into it, because it was obvious she didn’t intend to wait for a surprise attack.

  So be it.

  I yanked all of the others’ protective shields away, leaving only mine. Power surged through me, like I was a ship freed from an anchor.

  Cyra bent a little and brought her hands together, readying what I knew would be a thick stream of white-hot magma. She wasn’t pulling any punches.

  Watching Austin fight her, I’d worried for his life. I’d forged my blood bond with Ivy House after months of hesitating, in the hopes that it would make me powerful enough to intervene and help him. He hadn’t needed me in the end, and although I’d thought it remarkable that he’d defeated such a strong adversary without any help, I hadn’t realized how remarkable. It turned out Austin was the only shifter in recorded history to have dominated a phoenix. Learning he’d knowingly risked his life for me, again, had nearly made me throw up (I’d ignored the primal part of me that had been incredibly turned on).

  Now it was my turn. Cyra was one of the most powerful beings in the magical world. Would I measure up?

  She pushed her hands forward, sending forth a thin stream of glowing red and white flame that shed smoke as it cut through the air. I fortified my shield with everything I had, as much power as I could wrap around myself.

  Her magic hit my shield like a Mack truck. The point of contact couldn’t be larger than the head of a pin, but she’d condensed a staggering amount of power into it. Flame coughed out at the point of contact and black smoke drifted up.

  I gritted my teeth and took a step forward, which seemed counterintuitive, but I felt the need to take some sort of action, and stepping back was not an option. Her magic burrowed into my defensive spell, incredibly potent. Cyra shook with the effort, her thin brows low and her jade eyes focused.

  A surge of emotion welled up through the link. Austin clearly sensed what was happening and was sending his encouragement.

  I held firm, taking another step forward. Ready for my turn. Ready to attack.

  “Rip her magic away,” Hollace yelled, watching from the sidelines, holding his injured arm. “Don’t let her sap your strength—fight back!”

  “I don’t know how—”

  Cyra tore away the magical magma and blasted a thick stream of fire at me, like a flamethrower. I sucked in a breath, ignoring my fatigue, and soaked in the magic. The flames looked terrifying, but they weren’t anywhere close to touching me. A moment later the magical magma was back, the pinprick focus digging into my shield. She was mixing it up to throw me off guard. Apparently she thought I had enough versatility to do more than doggedly focus on my best shield. Joke was on her.

  This blast didn’t make it any deeper than the first. I could withstand her most powerful magic.

  I would’ve rejoiced if she didn’t rip the spell away and sprint at me.

  “Oh crap—”

  She slammed into me, flash-heating the air around us and knocking me to the ground. I couldn’t feel the heat on my skin, my defensive spell soaking it in, but I could definitely feel her fingers wrapping around my throat.

  I supercharged my defensive layer, which was incredibly potent from all the power she’d fed me. The spell pulsed, turning red as it did, and zapped every square inch of her body where it was in contact with mine. She convulsed against me, but her hands were still wrapped around my throat, cutting off my air. I pulsed my power again, then fed a mini-explosion into my defensive layer, trying to force her off.

  Her grip tightened around my neck, holding on. Black dots swam in my vision. Surely she wouldn’t kill me on purpose, and yet… I wasn’t sure she had a handle on herself. I wasn’t sure she would remember to let go.

  Fear kindled within me. Her focus on ignoring her pain was so acute that her eyes were closed. Air dried up in my lungs, no more coming through my closed-off throat.

  No one was coming to help me.

  With Austin across town, maybe no one could.

  I released a hand from around her wrist and reached for my pocket, for my knife Cheryl, but claws raked across my side. I’d changed into my gargoyle form and completely forgotten about it. I had claws! Why wasn’t I using my claws?

  Blackness clouded my vision, my head light. A rush of dark rage rose through me, fueling my resolve. I punched my claws into her stomach, piercing flesh. She groaned but didn’t relent. I ripped down, opening thick, messy gashes that spilled blood down on top of me. Still she held on. This woman was tenacious. I punched into her chest next, then her neck, ripping to one side. The sickly gash that opened up would’ve killed a human. She merely flinched, one hand losing strength and nearly reaching for her neck.

  It was all the leeway I’d get.

  I knocked her weak hand off my throat, pried the second one away, and then shoved her back. As I did, I hit her with another punch of magic that blasted her up and off.

  Throat bruised, breathing ragged, I hopped onto my feet. Pulling up every ounce of power I possessed, I sent my own thin slice of magic, the nastiest spell in the Ivy Ho
use library. It cut through the air, straight for her. Her eyes widened and she poofed into her phoenix form and spread her mouth wide to catch the spell. She swallowed the spell, and I immediately sent another. This one was weaker—exhaustion was setting in—but hopefully still strong enough to beat her down.

  But it didn’t have the chance. Before the next spell could reach her, she squeaked and then burst into flames, falling into a pile of smoldering ash.

  The second, and now unnecessary, blast of magic continued past her, heading straight for the basajaun, who’d snuck in at some point, as if taking in a matinee movie. He was hunkered down in the tree behind the phoenix, a terrible location to watch the fight.

  He dove out of the way before I could do more than holler, “Loork oww-t!”

  My spell crashed into the large pine and blasted a hole into the trunk. Wood crackled and the tree shivered. I held my breath, wondering if it was going to come down. Silence descended on us, everyone else clearly wondering the same thing. Loud pops and crackles preceded the tree shaking, starting to lean, gaining speed.

  “Get out of the way!” Hollace yelled, running for me.

  Nathanial got there first, wrapping his arms around my middle. His powerful wings beat at the air, and we darted skyward, gravity ripping at us, the speed thrilling. The pine fell, but we were already up over the treetops, still gaining altitude.

  “Phoe-nix kii-llerr,” Nathanial said in my ear, his speech within his gargoyle form amazing, his pride unmistakable.

  I wanted to tell him that she’d nearly been the victor, to ask why they’d all sat watching while she nearly strangled me, but it would’ve been too arduous with my gargoyle mouth. I’d chastise everyone later. Instead, I relaxed in his grip, pointed at the open horizon, and said, “Fll-y.”

  He altered his hold to be more comfortable and then shot out into the big blue horizon, the others joining us in no time.

  I had enough power and perseverance to take down a phoenix.

  Cyra didn’t fight dirty, though, and a lot of mages did. Elliot surely would. If I gave him the opportunity. Which was why I intended to hit him with my most powerful spell the second he was in my sights.