Текст книги "Bewitched"

Автор книги: Laura Thalassa

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CHAPTER 5

Oh, my fucking goddess on high.

This strange magic led me right to a panther. I repeat, a panther.

I would scream, except my throat isn’t working.

I’m going to get eaten and then shit out by this ferocious hellcat, and no one is ever going to know what happened to me.

Pull yourself together, Selene. You have magic at your disposal. No overgrown pussycat is going to end you, no matter how terrifying it is.

The panther opens its jaws slightly—enough for me to get a whiff of big-cat breath, which is as awful as it sounds.

The panther leans forward, bringing its head close to my face. The entire time, it stares at me.

I feel something then, something that gathers in the very center of my body. It takes another second for me to realize it’s my magic. There’s something in the air—or maybe it’s in my bones—that calls to this creature. It has the same ageless feel as my magic does.

And the longer I look, the more I sense some aspect of myself behind those eyes. My fear is gone, replaced by an instinctual familiarity.

My magic hums at the thought, moving out from the center of my body and flowing into my limbs. The urge to touch the great cat, to pet it, is nearly overwhelming.

Tentatively, I lift a hand, feeling my power gather in my palm. My inner skeptic is still positive this is where I die, but my intuition is saying something different, and I trust it above all else.

The magic coiled in my palm builds, driven by some primeval witchy instinct. It makes my flesh tingle and causes my fingers to twitch a little.

The panther closes the last of the distance between us, pressing its face into my outstretched hand, as though desperate for the touch of my magic.

And that’s exactly what the creature gets.

Power bursts from my palm at the contact, turning the air around us a glittering pale hue of orange. It slips into the panther just as easily as a breath of air, and I feel it connect. Something deep within me snaps into place then, magically linking me to the creature.

I stare up at the big cat as it gazes down at me, its face still pressed against my palm.

After a moment, it moves from my hand, leaning in as though it needs to get a closer look at my eyes. Then, all at once, it gives my cheek a lick that feels like it took off a layer or two of skin.

I reach up and dazedly pet the animal, my hand shaking a little, while inside…inside, I sense our freshly forged bond.

Holy shit, I think I just bagged myself a familiar.

I stare at the big cat for the dozenth time as I brush myself off and get my bearings.

The coven is going to shit bricks when they see my familiar.

Shit. Bricks.

I actually smirk a little at the thought. The phrase “be careful what you wish for” came from witches.

The panther—my panther—is massive. I’d never truly appreciated that about these great cats until now, when I’m standing next to one.

Of all the animals I could’ve gotten matched with, I got this one. He—and uh, dude’s definitely a boy—is much prouder and scarier than the familiar I imagined for myself. To be honest, I was thinking I was more of a chinchilla girl.

Apparently not.

Even now, I can feel the soft hum of my connection to the great cat. It’s a strange feeling, being bonded to another essence—and to that of an animal, no less. It’s like discovering you have an extra appendage, only this one is sentient.

I close my eyes now and focus on that sentience and the bond that binds us together. The longer I concentrate on our connection, the more I feel a pull to slip down it.

So I do.

One moment I’m sensing the magical bond, and the next, I slide into the panther’s mind.

Most of the creature’s thoughts are barred from me, but I can feel his mild hunger, and I sense that he’s otherwise in good health. His strength simmers just below the surface, and inside his head, I feel stronger, more athletic.

I breathe in, and through his nose, I smell a dozen different scents, each with its own nuanced meaning. Most shocking of all, when I blink and the world comes into focus, I can see myself through his eyes.

Freaking trippy as hell.

I swing his head around, taking in our surroundings. His vision is sharper yet less vibrant, and I can see all sorts of things in the shadows of the jungle.

I slip back into my own head, and it’s like moving from one room to another—no magic needed, no memories devoured.

I have to place my hand on a nearby tree while I catch my breath.

“You are… This is…” Unbelievable. Extraordinary.

And most of all, unexpected.

Really, really unexpected.

Despite how desperate I was to find my familiar, I hadn’t truly believed it would happen on this trip.

Tentatively, I step forward and stroke my panther’s fur, still half expecting him to bite my hand off. But he lets me pet him, even closing his eyes and leaning into my touch.

“What should I name you?” I ask him.

The big cat says nothing, just continues to lean into me.

“Phantom?” I try the name out. I mean, he is scary.

No reaction. I think that might be a no.

Goddess above, I’m trying to read the thoughts of a wild cat.

“Onyx?” That one’s pretty literal.

No reaction from my familiar.

“Ebenezer?” I throw out.

Now he gives me a look, and it’s not a nice one.

“I’m kidding,” I say. I take in the panther all over again. “Hmmm…you’re a serious guy.” Serious enough to deserve a powerful name, one of a ruler.

From the foggy wisps of my memory, I drag a name forth. “Nero.”

The big cat turns his head and licks my palm with that abrasive tongue of his.

“Do you like that?”

The panther butts his head against my hand, and I think that’s a yes.

I pet his fur. “Yeah, I bet you get a thrill being likened to some ruthless Roman emperor.”

It’s as I’m straightening that movement above me catches my eye. I glance up in time to see that line of indigo magic twisting in the air. It snakes through the trees, toward what looks to be a body of water.

My queen… Find me… Claim me… Save me…

The deep-blue magic reaches for my arm, wrapping itself around my wrist as though it were a hand and tugging me forward.

I stare at it, momentarily confused. I think I assumed finding Nero was the driving force behind the plane crash and this very literal magic quest I’m now on. But, of course, that’s not the case. Familiars don’t actually put out any magic of their own; they simply amplify and conduct it. The voice and the insistent power pulling me toward the murky water ahead of us are something else entirely.

The magic tugs on my hand again, and I feel compelled once again to find the source of it.

Empress…

“You better not be some swamp monster set on devouring me,” I call out, “because now I have a badass familiar who looks like he would happily eat swamp monsters for breakfast.”

I glance at Nero, who doesn’t look like he’s on board with eating swamp monsters at all.

“I’m obviously bluffing,” I whisper. “Just go along with it.”

Languidly, the big cat stretches, then prowls forward, his tail brushing against my side as he starts after the magic.

I follow him, reveling in the subtle thrum of our connection. Though I cannot see the thin magical cord that connects us, I can still sense my familiar on the other end of it.

This is so wild.

Nero slips between the trees on silent feet, moving like a shadow through the jungle’s underbrush.

We haven’t gone far when the trees give way to a large, winding river.

Could this be the Amazon River? Because that would actually be really fucking awesome. Random, but awesome.

I stand there, hands on my hips, my combat boots splattered with mud and my skin sweaty, and I savor the ridiculous irony of the situation. I’m now getting the wild magic quest I was too broke to afford. I mean, technically I’m also too broke for the quest I purchased, but what are details?

The line of blue magic cuts directly across the river, disappearing into the trees on the other side.

I let out a sigh, then turn to Nero. “You wouldn’t happen to know of any nearby bridges, would you?”

OceanofPDF.com

CHAPTER 6

It’s not a bridge, but Nero does lead me to a boat. Well, a dinghy. One that’s rusted over and partially submerged into the muddy riverbank. Inside, it’s filled with decaying shrubbery, a murky puddle of water, and what looks to be a thriving, self-contained ecosystem. The floor of it is also partially rusted through. And it’s missing its oars.

But you know what? It’s something.

So I spend a ridiculous amount of time and magic repairing the Tetanus Express and prying it out of the riverbank. By the end of it, my head, which had stopped hurting thanks to the aspirin, begins to throb again.

I ignore the pain and my rising anxieties about the amount of power I’ve used today. I’m on a magic quest; I can be a little indulgent with my spellcasting.

With that thought in mind, I release another burst of my power, one that cleans the interior of the dinghy. All the while, the dark blue magic circles me.

Empress…

I ignore the voice and the restlessness it stirs in me. Instead, I drag the boat into the water, grimacing a little when my boots squish into the riverbed. I nearly whoop with joy when the dinghy stays afloat, rocking gently in the shallows of the river. It’s still badly rusted and missing oars, but it floats.

I turn to Nero, who’s been watching from the riverbank, and I hesitate. I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about how to acquire a familiar but not what to do with one once we bonded.

“Do you…want to come with me?” I ask.

Nero stares at me for a moment. Then, in response, he prowls to the lapping edge of the river and leaps into the dinghy. The force of his landing nearly capsizes the boat in the process.

“Dude,” I say, grabbing the edge of the vessel and holding it as steady as I can.

If Nero was at all worried about being thrown overboard, he doesn’t show it. The panther plops on the floor of the boat and begins cleaning himself.

I glance one last time at what I can see of my magical repairs to the dinghy, then at the far side of the river.

Taking a deep breath, I gather my courage and hoist myself into the boat.

Before I can even attempt a spell to get this thing moving toward the far side of the river, the magic circling me now pushes at my back, propelling us across.

I let out a shaky exhale.

Well, that solves that.

It’s only when we’ve reached the center of the river that I have my misgivings.

What in the goddess’s name am I doing? Magic quest or no, I shouldn’t be wandering around in this unfamiliar jungle, letting some mysterious being lure me closer. I don’t even have my notebook, so if I forget my memories from earlier today, I’m F-U-C-K-E-D.

I glance overhead at the afternoon sun.

And if I don’t get back before sundown…

Doubled fucked.

But my intuition isn’t warning me off this trail, and I did find my familiar by listening to it earlier. Technically, this is what a magic quest is—listening to that untamable inner voice that leads all witches.

Nero lunges toward the river, nearly capsizing the boat. Again. I grab the sides of the dinghy for balance while the water near us churns. I hear a crunch, and then the panther is backing up, dragging some writhing thing along with him.

What in the…?

Nero turns toward me, and clamped in his jaws is the biggest motherfucking snake I’ve ever seen, its head and neck hanging lifelessly, even while the rest of its body still spasms.

Ho-ly shit.

“Good boy,” I croak.

He gives me a look like he might eat me next if I treat him like a pet again. He pads back to the middle of the boat and flops down, the huge twitching snake tumbling in along with him.

I grimace.

Clearing my throat, I say, “I feel like we need to go over some boat rules. Rule one—”

Nero sinks his teeth into the creature’s belly.

Going to hurl.

“No eating animals on the boat.”

Ignoring me, the panther continues to chomp on the dead snake.

What am I supposed to do if my familiar doesn’t listen to me? Aren’t familiars supposed to give their undivided loyalty to the witch they’re bonded with?

I take a few deep breaths and decide this is not the hill I want to die on today.

“Fine, ignore boat rules, just don’t get any blood on me—”

I feel something warm and wet hit the back of my hand.

I glare at my familiar—who is still absorbed in his meal. “Don’t make me turn you into a housecat,” I warn him.

He pauses eating to flash me his fangs.

Guess he doesn’t like the idea of that all that much. “Then behave.”

He stares at me for a moment longer, then goes back to eating his nasty snack.

The blue magic pushes us along, and slowly but surely, we cross the river. Overhead, the rest of the magic hangs above us like a contrail, the line of it disappearing into the trees on the approaching side of the riverbank. I swear it looks denser than it did at the crash site.

I can still feel the power pressing against my back, but it’s begun to creep over my shoulders and around my chest, and a strand of it brushes against my jaw, feeling for all the world like the light stroke of knuckles against my skin.

I think it would be better if I found the touch repulsive, but I…don’t, and that leaves me confused.

Eventually, we reach the riverbank. I wait until the dinghy has nearly beached itself on the shore before hopping out with Nero and dragging the boat as far ashore as I can.

Dusting my hands off, I turn to the dark jungle beyond.

Come to me…

I pause. That phantom voice is so much stronger now.

The air around me seems to vibrate. I can feel the magic as though it were alive.

Calling to me. Calling…

I pick my way through the vegetation and the looming lush trees, that insistent pull getting stronger. I stop only when I get to a dense, almost-impassable cluster of foliage.

I’m about to move away from it when I sense…more magic. Only this doesn’t have the same elements as the blue magic above me.

The spell here—and what I’m sensing is a spell, not unspooled magic—is unlike the one pulling me onward. This power is so subtle that I would have missed it if I weren’t looking for magic in the first place.

Now that I am looking right at it, I see the shimmery lines that its spellcasting left behind. Sometimes these can take the shape of writing, but other times, like right now, the spells look like nothing more than glittery string woven together.

This spell, however, is not simply a few magical strings; it’s a whole tapestry. The spells—wards technically—hang in the air like a giant web, one so complex and so intricately wrought that it must’ve taken weeks if not months to create.

I study the layers and layers of protective spells, in awe that someone created this.

The most prominent of these wards are ones that will a person to leave this place. There are still more that form a magical barrier of sorts, one that would be impenetrable to a nonmagical human. Finally, I sense several overlapping enchantments that obscure whatever’s beyond from view. It’s all so hopelessly complicated.

Unfortunately for me, the magic I’ve been following cuts directly across these wards, as though they weren’t there.

My queen…

That voice stirs my blood and prods my back, and if I have any hope of finding its source, I’ll need to get past these spells.

I give the web of them another once-over. After a moment’s hesitation, I reach out with my fingers, unsure how the wards will react. Hexes and curses could be woven into these things, and I really don’t want to walk away from here with some curse that rots me from the inside out.

Help me…

I’m emboldened by that plea. There may be someone on the other side of these spells that’s in true peril. And while I’m in no position to be some knight in shining armor, I am the only one who’s here, so I can at least try to be brave.

I take a steadying breath, then press my hand to the web of spells.

At my touch, the entire cluster of them disintegrates, as though it were no sturdier than an actual web. But even as my hand slips right through, I feel the massive amount of power these spells released, the wave of it slamming into me and causing me to stagger back. The shock wave spreads out into the jungle, dissipating as it goes.

I frown. Spells that strong should’ve put up some sort of fight.

But I only linger on that concern for a moment because now that I’ve removed this section of wards, I can see the area in front of me for what it really is.

Ruins.

I stare at the toppled columns and the smashed remains of hewn arches, the white marble covered in vines and vegetation. The stone itself appears to be inlaid with golden floral patterns, and the ends of the columns morph into what look to be the boughs of trees.

I’m no expert but…I swear this architecture has the touch of the Otherworld to it, the realm where fairies reside. So what is it doing hidden away in South America?

My heart thumps harder.

Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe it’s some sort of failed resort that was left to molder…

That would make some amount of sense, even if it doesn’t explain the protective wards.

Tentatively, I step forward and move through the ruins.

Come to me, my queen…

That masculine voice sounds clear and close, and there’s something about it that is gut-wrenchingly intimate. It makes my breath come out shaky.

I head toward it, the line of blue magic still guiding my way. It weaves between the structure’s fallen features. My gaze snags on a bit of smashed stone and what appears to be part of a marble branch, the end of it morphing into what looks like a real leaf. But that can’t be right.

The more details I take in, however, the more certain I am that this isn’t some failed resort. Instead, it appears to be an unearthly palace left to rot. Most of it is thickly buried beneath strata of vegetation, but here and there I catch glimpses of what once stood here.

I step up to one of the more intact walls, pushing aside a curtain of plants. Underneath them, I take in the marble, my eyes lingering on the gold inlay of a coiling flowering plant decorating the wall.

This definitely seems made by the fae. Maybe one of them even lived here.

Empress…

I step away from the wall, letting the foliage drop back in place, the haunting voice luring me to it once more.

All around me, I feel more of those wards. They’re everywhere, glittering in the air, wrapped around toppled columns, coating the few standing walls. Someone went to pains to cover every square inch of this place in spells. It would take me hours to figure out what each one’s purpose is and longer still to remove them all.

Ahead of me, the inky-blue magic slopes downward from the sky, the strip of it eventually sinking into the earth. I follow it all the way to where it meets the ground.

Reaching out, I run a hand through the indigo magic. My fingers tingle pleasantly as they pass through it, but nothing else happens.

I toe the damp earth right where the power meets it. All I see is mud, yet I sense wards deep below—wards and something else, something I am antsy to uncover.

I raise my palm to the mud, and I force my power through it.

“Unearth your secrets from below,” I incant. “Reveal to me what you know.”

My power hits the ground with so much force, it blows thick globs of mud far and wide. Under the direction of the spell, my magic peels away the soil layer by layer. It takes several seconds, but eventually, I uncover a section of marble flooring that looks identical to what I’ve seen in other parts of these ruins.

Well, identical save for the swath of magic slipping down along its seams.

Save me…

I swallow. The voice is coming from beneath the floor in question. I figured as much, but now…now I’m having to make sense of that.

The deep-blue magic gathers around me, coaxing me to uncover whatever lies beneath that slab. I open my mouth, scrambling to fit together another spell, when something else entirely pours from my lips.

“Buvakata sutavuva izakasava xu ivakamit sanasava,” I incant, my voice deepening with my power. Open and reveal that which is hidden.

The words raise the hairs on my arms, not only because they’re foreign and haunting but because they came as naturally to me as English.

Beneath the touch of my power, the stone slab vibrates as it begins to pry itself free. As I watch, tendrils of blue magic slip between my own, and on some level, I feel that contact. A heady shiver courses through me.

With a groan, the marble slab lifts from the ground and slides aside.

I exhale, my nerves on edge.

Now that the floor has been removed, I can make out an opening and steps leading down into it. The dark ribbon of magic descends into the darkness.

Do I dare go down there?

Come…to…me…beloved…

The voice whispers like a lover, brushing against my ear and raising the hairs at the nape of my neck. The words should be off-putting, but I’m too bewitched by the voice to turn back now.

Even if I were, it wouldn’t matter because my familiar slips past me before heading down the steps, like forgotten subterranean chambers are not at all scary or troubling. As he descends, mounted torches flare to life, revealing a long set of stairs and a hallway far below.

“Nero!” I call out. I’m supposed to be the one taking the risks here with the strange voice, not my familiar.

If he hears my voice, he doesn’t listen. My familiar disappears, and while I can still hear torches lighting somewhere beyond my line of sight, the sound grows more and more distant, presumably as the panther moves deeper into the chamber.

“Nero!” I call out again.

Nothing.

I slip into his mind just to make sure he’s okay. One second, I’m staring down at the dark opening, and in the next, I’m inside, prowling forward, claw tips clicking against the stone flooring. Through Nero’s eyes, I see massive walls and flickering shadows, and I can smell…something.

Something alive.

In an instant, I’m back in my own head.

I had understood that some being was behind the magic and the voice that called to me. Still, it’s obvious this place has been long forgotten, bound in wards that have outlasted the spellcasters themselves.

And yet, despite the forgotten state of this place, something still lingers here alongside these wards, something sentient and magical, and my brand-spanking-new familiar is heading straight for it.

Not good, not good, not good.

Before I can think better of it, I plunge down those stairs after Nero, following the torchlight and the trail of indigo magic.

About halfway down, I notice how dry everything is. Even the air, which was so humid aboveground, is parched here. On either side of me, torches flicker and hiss, giving off not just the smell of smoke but also frankincense and cinnamon.

I trail my fingers over the walls, where I see the iridescent sheen of spells. The same magic I met earlier is here again, hanging heavy in the air. I don’t believe it belongs to that disembodied voice, but that only deepens the mystery. The power fills the space, coating the air and walls like honey, and the blue magic seems to twist and contort—just a little—around it. Odd.

Odder still, I sense it’s supposed to keep people away, and yet it seems to welcome me, brushing against my flesh like the softest silk.

Once I get to the bottom, I cast my gaze down the long hallway in front of me. It curves out of sight, that ribbon of magic disappearing with it.

“Nero?” I call.

Nothing.

I look back up the stairs and give the sky one last remorseful look before continuing.

The walls here are carved with images of trees and beasts and warriors on horseback, the firelight and shadows making them dance. Draped over it all are more shimmery webs of spells.

Farther down the hall, the images give way to lines of text. The letters seem to jiggle a little as I look; the words themselves are spells. The writing appears to be…Latin. However, the longer I stare, the more I realize this is not actually Latin.

It’s the Latin alphabet but not the actual Latin language.

And the only reason I know that is because I can read this text.

I say a line out loud. “…azkagu wek div’nusava. Ipis ip’nasava udugab…”

…bind fast within. Keep safe for all eternity…

One of the nearby spells flares to life, stirred by my invocation.

My eyes pass over the rest of the text. Whatever this language is, it’s something else, something from far away and long ago that seems to make my blood sing and my heart awaken.

An itchy, restless feeling stirs beneath my skin. It’s that same feeling I get when I come across a hole in my memory. I feel turned inside out.

There may be things I can no longer remember, but then there are things I do inexplicably know.

Latin is one of them.

Latin and apparently whatever this language is.

I want to linger here and read this spellwork, just to taste this language on my tongue again. It…evokes some dear but unnamable emotion in me, something I’ve only felt in dreams.

But the longer I stand still, the more that blue magic coils around me. I can now sense the presence it belongs to beckoning me closer.

I tear my attention away from the wall and move on.

The narrow hall eventually opens into a chamber as large as my apartment, the entire space already lit by torches.

The room is decorated from top to bottom with more writing and images of fantastical beasts. I see griffins and deer with antlers that morph into the branches of nearby trees. I only spare it all a passing glance.

It’s what lies at the center of the room that grabs my attention.

Nero lounges on a massive block of white marble, the stone intricately carved to resemble a massive tree trunk. The fae who surely carved this went to great lengths to capture the texture of the bark and even what appear to be tree rings on the exposed end.

The trail of magic ends there, disappearing into the carved stone through a seam that runs the length of it.

It’s not simply a block of stone stylized to look like a massive felled tree.

It’s a sarcophagus, and this chamber, a crypt.

And yet…there’s something alive in this place. Something that lies in that stone coffin beneath Nero.

Horror rises in me as I muse on that. Whatever’s inside that coffin is alive enough to call to me.

How long have they been trapped here?

My queen…

Goose bumps pebble along my skin. The voice is so much louder and more intimate here in this room.

At last, you have come…

It is only now that I realize this voice has not been speaking to me in English. I just understood it as such. In fact, I understood it so well that I hadn’t even thought to question what language it was. But I think it’s the same one written on the walls.

That deep-blue magic pushes at my back, interrupting my thoughts and urging me toward the sarcophagus.

A chill sweeps over me as, reluctantly, I return my gaze to that coffin. As though I can’t help myself, I step closer.

Nero stands then and hops off the lid, exposing a smooth rectangular section of marble inscribed with more lines of text, though it’s hard to make out what it says from here. Ropes and ropes of spells cover the entire sarcophagus, the torchlight flickering off the phantom sheen of them.

The sheer quantity of spells looks excessive, but then, I don’t know what sort of being it contains, only that they were able to lure me here while trapped beneath it all.

I lick my dry lips, more of my misgivings bubbling up. I close the last of the distance to the coffin, peering down at the lid.

I run my fingers over the writing inscribed there, feeling the divots where someone painstakingly carved them into the stone. That simple brush of my hand is enough to release the knot of spells. The threads of them split and unravel, and the released magic blows my hair back as it passes through the chamber, making the flames dance wildly in their sconces for a second before resettling.

My fingers trace the inscribed letters, and I form the words on my lips. “Zoginutasa vaksasava vexvava ozakosa pesaguva ekawabiw di’nasava.”

For the love of your gods, beware of me.

Beneath that is a name.

Nu’suwnusavuva Memnon

Memnon the Cursed.

Conflicting emotions roil within me like sand kicked up in the tide. Fear, anticipation, desire.

Empress…

More than anything, I have the overwhelming urge to open the coffin. It goes against good judgment and rational thought, but then, most of today has gone against good judgment and rational thought. Why break from precedent now?

I didn’t come all this way to stop at the last moment.

Decision made, I splay my hand against the cool marble surface.

Closing my eyes, I draw in a deep breath and focus on my power.

“Spells unbind. Lid be cast aside. Reveal what lies within.”

Magic surges from me, slicing through the last of the spells coating the coffin. The pale orange plumes of it gather around the stone lid. It’s eerily silent as my power lifts the carved slab into the air, then slides it aside. Only once it’s completely clear of the sarcophagus does it fall.

BOOM!

The lid hits the ground, cracking apart. Clumps of dirt trickle from the ceiling and the earth tremors, just a little. I wave my hand at the cloud of dust it kicks into the air.

Once the dust and the magic settle, I peer into the open sarcophagus, my pulse racing.

Resting within it is a man—a stunning, flawless man.

This is no mummy—this isn’t even a fresh corpse. His chest isn’t rising or falling, but his olive-toned skin has a ruddy, sun-kissed appearance. It’s almost as though he were out in the sun hours ago and merely came in here to rest. And yet, if it were that simple, he would have woken up by now.

Even asleep, this stranger is the most mesmerizing person I’ve ever seen. I stare at his sharp high cheekbones, then his subtly hooked nose. His coarse black hair curls around his ears, and his lips…I can already tell those full, curving lips were made for wetting panties and ruining girls’ hearts.

A wicked scar cuts from the corner of his left eye toward his ear before sharply plunging down to the edge of his jaw.

Memnon seems like a badass. A hot, violent badass.

My pounding pulse grows louder and louder as I continue to stare. Something is happening inside me, something that has little to do with this man’s dangerous beauty.

Over my heart my magic gathers, the sensation so sharp, so visceral, I have to place a trembling hand over my chest just to tamp it down.