I'm a small town girl with big dreams and a wild imagination. I'm addicted to coffee and writing. The combination is my idea of heaven. I read every day, if only to my young son, whom I hope to someday inspire with my passion for writing.

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Retribution
by: B.C. Burgess

This is a sneak peek and subject to change.

Prologue

March – Klamath Mountains

The snow came at Guthrie in cold, gray swirls that matched his stormy gaze and the granite peaks slicing through the eastern sky. The fluffy flakes that slipped past the hood of his crimson cloak clung to his lashes then succumbed to his magical heat, melting into quivering droplets.

Guthrie expected no less of the flight over Ship Mountain, which found itself blanketed in snow six months out of the year, so he didn’t bother cursing nature as he wiped away the moisture blurring his view. The unit behind him, however, started grumbling the moment they began following the Klamath Mountain Range into California.

Noon had come and gone, and Guthrie knew the soldiers were tired and hungry. They usually slept during the day, and they’d been on the move since dawn. But Agro had given Guthrie a mere three days and two nights to collect an army large enough to obliterate the coven protecting their target – a witch more powerful than any other.

Because Agro had already summoned the troops near Oregon – only to slaughter most of them – rallying more would require a trip through California, Nevada, Wyoming and Montana. Then there was the matter of flying back to Oregon. The boss wanted Guthrie back in the Clatsop State Forest before the sun snuffed out the third night, and if the lieutenant found himself unable to make his deadline, he’d be wise to fly in the opposite direction, because those who failed Agro generally failed to draw breath long enough to regret their mistake.

Wiping away another melted snowflake, Guthrie dipped into a ravine and slowed to a hovering stop. According to Agro’s map, a unit of Dark Elite soldiers camped nearby, awaiting the boss’ call.

Guthrie lifted the concealment spell on his body and opened the sleeve of his cloak, letting his snake taste the air. Then he dug into a hidden pocket and retrieved a map printed on a scroll of parchment.

Several soldiers dropped into the gully around him and lifted their concealment spells, relieved to be out of the wind, but Guthrie ignored their sighs as he unrolled the map and mumbled the word Appalachia. Wind whistled along the jagged mouth of the frozen chasm as he scanned the map’s legend. Then he flipped the scroll over and located the correct coordinates. The camp was less than ten miles away.

Tucking the map in his cloak, he glanced at his unit, who wisely kept their complaints to themselves while awaiting their next command. Most of them were experienced soldiers who knew better than to expect a reward for their obedience, but Guthrie decided to throw them a bone.

After ushering Silestra back into his sleeve, he concealed his body and floated toward open air. “We’ll take a break and eat when we reach the camp ten miles south, but then you have a twelve hour task ahead of you.”

“What will you have us do?” Lynette asked.

Guthrie looked at her, a woman as deadly as she was beautiful, a tempting rose with razor sharp thorns… which she’d recently plunged into his sides with whispers of rebellion. “We’ll split up,” he answered.

Lynette scowled, her porcelain skin creasing around her violet eyes and red lips.

Guthrie ignored the look and continued. “A few of you will accompany me to Nevada to fetch Agro’s soothsayers, while the others continue south. There are a few more settlements in California I don’t have time to visit. Now conceal yourselves. A hot meal is less than twenty minutes away.”

With exact coordinates, they easily found their destination and entered the sleepy camp unannounced, bringing down protection spells with predetermined passwords.

A nearby guard jolted to attention and scanned the crimson cloaks. Then he met Guthrie’s confident stare and tried to stand taller. “What’s the meaning of this?”

Guthrie sized the man up then looked around, pinpointing the largest tent. “I’m Agro’s new lieutenant, here on his command.”

The guard slowly relaxed and eyed the rest of the travelers. “What happened to Farriss?”

“Good question,” Guthrie returned, heading for the tent undoubtedly housing the camp’s commander. “He went missing five days ago. Wake everyone and tell them to prepare to depart.”

Lynette huffed and crossed her arms. “I thought a hot meal was on the menu.”

Guthrie narrowed his eyes on her, and her arms slid to her sides as she bowed her head. “Sir.”

Guthrie stifled a smirk, wise enough to know Lynette wasn’t submitting. She was merely appeasing him in an effort to get what she wanted, which happened to be his ear, so that she may whisper mutinous plots into it. And considering her outrageous schemes, she probably wanted to build him up in front of the other soldiers, cement him as a man worthy of an army’s obedience and loyalty.

Guthrie found the guard’s curious stare and set him to task. “Have someone prepare breakfast. Everyone will need sustenance for their journey.”

“What journey?” a gruff voice cut in.

Everyone looked over, watching the camp’s commander emerge from his tent as nude as the day he was born. A witch in a skimpy, red slip followed him out, paying little attention to the crowd as she made her leave, and the commander gave her ass a slap before rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His blond hair and beard were in need of grooming, and his puffy eyelids bore witness to his disturbed slumber. But at thirty-two-years-old, he had youth on his side and stood as tall and sturdy as his morning wood. He was also a bonded child and had a thick and solid power-band to prove it.

“Guthrie,” he laughed, tossing his hands up in welcome. “Fuck the Heavens, man, I haven’t seen you in six years.” He threw an arm around Guthrie’s shoulders and looked to the other newcomers, quickly spotting Lynette.  A grin twitched his facial hair and exposed a perfect row of shiny teeth. “Lady Lyn, you’re aging like a fine wine.”

Lynette snorted and rolled her eyes. “You’re full of shit, Token. More like a used mattress.”

“Do I sense some tension?” Token asked, turning his olive-green gaze on Guthrie.

Guthrie left the question unanswered and addressed his unit. “If you want to eat, you better do it.”

The soldiers hastened away, and after a moment’s hesitation, Lynette followed.

“Got any food in here?” Guthrie asked, giving Silestra some air as he entered the commander’s tent.

Token followed him in, magically donning a pair of shorts as he gestured toward a sofa. “Sure. Take a seat. How have you been, man?”

While Token put together a tray of cheese and crackers, Guthrie scanned the impressive expanse of the commander’s opulent quarters. “I’m Agro’s new lieutenant.”

“No shit?”

“No shit,” Guthrie mumbled.

Token set the tray on the coffee table and poured two glasses of wine. “Congratulations are in order then.”

That was a lie, and both men knew it, but they played the roles they’d played most their lives. “Thanks, Toke,” Guthrie replied. “Got any meat?”

“It’s on its way. So what happened to the last guy?”

“Missing.”

“Flee?”

“Probably not.”

“Dead then.”

“Most likely.”

A witch entered the tent with a tray of ham then promptly made her exit, and Guthrie took a few bites before looking at the commander. “Have you heard any news?”

Token crossed his arms over his broad chest, holding his bicep in one hand and his glass in the other. “I know the boss is after a witch. All the commanders received orders to search for her, and I was told to move north. We were about three hours down the coast. I’ve been sending out teams to gather local gossip, but we don’t know anything more than a name and that she’s a bonded child.”

“The bonded child,” Guthrie corrected.

Token’s forehead wrinkled as he took a swig. “You’ll have to explain.”

“How old were you when you were brought into camp?”

“Seven.”

“Then you may not remember.”

Token grabbed a piece of ham and sat on the sofa’s armrest. “Remember what?”

“Twenty-two years ago, two bonded children bonded with each other.”

“What? That’s impossible.”

“Most magicians would agree, but I saw them. Their lights were bigger and brighter, and their power-bands put others to shame. When Agro found out about them, he set out to acquire their child.”

“Of course.”

“But he was fooled into thinking the woman died while their child was still in the womb and too young to survive. The father sacrificed his life to ensure Agro believed the lie.”

Token gave an impressed nod and took another swig. “Now the truth’s out?”

“Yes. The witch is alive, and we’ve been on her trail for nearly a month, but we haven’t been able to catch her. When we do manage it, we’re going to have a fight on our hands. Her parents are long gone, but her grandparents and their coven are prepared to die for her.” Guthrie paused, taking the time to chew and swallow a bite. Then he charged on. “And it seems Agro is prepared to do the same. He’ll stop at nothing to get this witch.”

“And that’s why you’re here,” Token surmised, slowly running his gaze over his luxurious abode. “Calling the troops home.”

“Yes, all those I can gather by Thursday night. I also need to make a trip to southern Nevada to buy a couple of soothsayers.”

Token rose from the sofa and moved to the entrance of his tent, moving one flap aside so he could see the soldiers eating breakfast. “And the children? Will they accompany us?”

“No. I need your weakest soldiers to take the children to a camp near Lake Tahoe. The witch’s family wants us to believe her trail leads to the area, and Agro wants them to think we’ve fallen for it. Once the children’s handlers get them settled, they’re to make public appearances and ask blatant questions regarding the witch, so word will get back to her family that we’ve moved on. Then, once they let their guard down, we’ll move in. Unless the new soothsayers prove useful, which is about as likely as the witch turning herself in. Of all the visions Agro’s yanked from soothsayers over the past twenty-two years, none of them have pertained to the witch or her family.”

Still gazing outside, Token gave a nod. “Lynette seems on edge.”

“That bitch is crazy,” Guthrie replied.

Token loudly laughed as he turned into the tent and grabbed a piece of cheese. “I see your passion for each other still burns.”

“That’s one way to put it. So, how do your soldiers measure up? Anyone worthy enough to lead besides yourself?”

“Lead in what way?”

“Excluding those taking responsibility for the children, most of the soldiers need to head to Oregon, but I need a trustworthy unit to take your map and collect the rest of the troops in California. They have two nights. They need to report to Agro before the sun rises on the third.”

“I have a handful who can handle the task,” Token assured. “What would you have me do?”

“You’ll go with me. When we’re done in Nevada, I need to hit Wyoming and Montana.”

“Shit, man. Are we starting a war?”

“We’ve already cleaned out Washington, Oregon, and Idaho, but Agro’s been on edge and skimmed us down to around seventy soldiers. We’ll be lucky to double it within the time limit he’s given me.” Guthrie ushered Silestra up his sleeve as he stood. Then he downed his wine and headed for the exit. “And yes, Agro’s preparing for war. We’ll either capture the witch or die trying.”

“But it’s one witch.”

Guthrie halted and turned, finding his comrade’s stare. “A witch favored by the Heavens, Token. You’d be wise to remember that from now on. This is no ordinary hunt. The stakes are higher than ever, and the boss is following this one through no matter the cost.”

Token took a long look at his comfortable quarters – a leisure he may never experience again. Then he found Guthrie’s stare and gave a nod. “I’ll set the soldiers to task.”

 

Chapter 1

Cannon Beach, Oregon - Karena’s Royal Suite

The first time Quin awoke to a gold and silver haze floating around him and Layla's naked bodies, conflicting emotions crashed over him, squeezing his heart as the organ soared. He'd received the most amazing gift life could give – she was tucked into his chest, her warm breath a tingling channel for the peace and desire she instilled in him – and he was beyond grateful for the gift, but wicked talons lurked in the shadows, threatening to swoop in and grab his angel away.

Everything had changed. The situation was completely different now, but the danger remained and had strengthened. He and Layla would never be able to live a risk free life. Overnight they'd become the most dynamic witch and wizard the world had ever known, and there was no doubt in Quin's mind they were the only two of their kind, making them a delicacy coveted by every evil magician in the world. And not only would wicked magic users want control over them; common magicians would view them as an intriguing freak show set up for the entertainment of others. The two of them might as well have targets painted on their backs.

Quin had already considered a life in hiding, and it wasn't an appealing idea. He loved his family and cherished his home. When his friends had been mentally preparing to someday leave their communities, he'd refused to consider it, telling himself it would take an angel to separate him from his coven. Well, he had his angel now, and he’d follow her anywhere, but she didn't want to leave either. And who the hell could blame her? She'd grown up with only one person to love and to be loved by. Now she had a whole slew of them, twenty-six people who’d give their lives for her; twenty-six people she’d die for. She'd just gotten her hands on it; of course she didn't want to let it go.

He looked down at her long, onyx spirals. Then he watched her peaceful aura flutter around them, holding more ribbons of color than any other aura he'd seen. Twenty-six of the distinguishable cords – those representing their coven – quivered and flowed a little faster than the rest, drawing attention away from the thinner and wispier strands. Then there was the thick band of sparkling dark-brown, which flowed like an espresso river sprinkled with pulsing stars, so bold and so substantial it looked tangible.

No, he didn't want to leave, but if that's what it would take to keep her from harm, that's what they’d do. The sacrifices would be difficult to make; they’d miss much of what life had to offer, but the emptiness would never compare to what they’d feel if they lost each other. Through all the worry and fear, every second they spent in each other's arms was a blessed second, and Quin would turn away from the rest of the world in a heartbeat to hold Layla’s breathing body against him.

Her aura continued to flow peacefully, but Quin knew that would change the moment she awoke and started worrying about the difficult decisions facing them. He despised the notion. He wanted her to wake up and feel the pure wonder of it, not the worry of it.

Taking a chance, he moved his arms from around her and replaced them with magic. Then he carefully floated her further up his body. She stirred, but he had no problem adjusting his spell to her movements. After catching a glimpse of her serene expression, he slowly rolled her over. Then he gently lowered her back to the bed. Her aura picked up speed when she made contact with the blankets, so he quickly formed his body to the back of hers and touched his lips to her ear.

“Layla, my perfect angel, are you ready to wake up?”

She smiled and stretched against him, then rolled back into a ball, but she didn't open her eyes or seem fully awake when she mumbled his name.

He gave her earlobe a nibble then moved his mouth to the back of her neck, listening as her sigh whispered across his pillow. He reached up, finding her parted lips with his fingertips. Then he trailed his hand down her torso, emitting soft shocks that twitched her stomach and vibrated her aura. When he got to her thighs, he slipped his hand between them, completely covering the smooth entrance to her body. Then a whoosh of magical warmth flowed from his palm, igniting sensitive nerve endings and jolting her awake.

Her arm flew behind her, frantically searching him out, and he abandoned her thighs to grab her hand. He pulled the inside of her wrist to his lips, kissing it until she relaxed. Then he stretched her hand over her head and placed it in his idle palm.

His freed fingertips trailed down her arm and side, finding their way to her inner thigh, and with a little tug, she was open to him, surrounding his erection with humid heat. His heart pounded against her shoulder blade as he lowered his lips to her ear. Then he whispered her name as he pushed inside her body, his passage tight and swollen from the night before.

She cried out, her insides flexing as her hips jerked, and he made to pull away so he could heal her. But before he could free himself, or even murmur an apology, she arched and forced him deeper. A shaky breath lodged in his throat, nearly choking him as his arm flew to her torso, and her wrist slipped from his other hand with ease. She reached behind her, clutching his jaw as she tilted her head back. Then she held his cheek to hers while moving against him in a way that can’t be learned, not by time nor experience. Only instinct driven by pleasure moved like that.

“Damn,” he mumbled, trying to maintain his sanity, but he hadn’t expected such a carnal reaction. She’d yanked away his control in more ways than one, leaving surrender his only option.

His twitchy fingers came to a rest on her collarbone, and his forearm kept her close as her lungs and hips quickened, spurred by an oncoming wave of pleasure.

He sharply inhaled, and her palm slid from his jaw, her rapid breathing in sync with her flexing core. Her breast cuddled his arm as she found his hand. Then she locked their fingers together and squeezed. His chest deflated as he firmly pulled her closer, and she used magic to keep it that way as she arched and undulated, welcoming deepened thrust with pulsing insides.

Her head rolled, gliding moist and parted lips across his cheek, and as her breathy exclamation floated over his jaw, intense tingles erupted, making him feel as light as air as they pushed him over the edge. His chest rumbled as he buried his face in her hair, drowning his senses in her heavenly bouquet. Then a rush of relief launched him into a fit of spasms.

Several sensational minutes passed before their muscles melted into sated mush, and they both sighed as fulfillment replaced urgency.

He remained submersed in curls, and after a deep breath, he mumbled into them. “You're amazing.”

She wiggled, moving her neck closer to his lips. “You're the perfect alarm clock.” 

He laughed, and shivers shot through their bodies.

“What could I do?” he breathed. “You looked stunning sleeping in my arms, so beautiful and bright. When my naked angel tempts me, I bite.”

“Tell you what, feel free to wake me up anytime, because apparently temptation is the root of all that's wonderful.”

He laughed again, and it included a combined twitch. “You're heavenly,” he whispered, blindly finding her cheek, “in so many ways.”

“I can't believe it's like this,” she replied, turning her lips into his palm. “Each time it gets better, which is crazy, because the first time was insane. I mean, how are we ever going to get anything done?”

He laughed yet again, a little harder this time, and tingles shot through their bloodstreams, turning his laugh into a groan that muffled into her neck.

“See?” She'd won her debate. “Productivity has become impossible.”

“I'm okay with that.”

“We're going to have to be. We're pathetic when it comes to controlling ourselves, and neither of us wants to change. We'll just have to surrender and live the rest of our lives like this.”

“I'm okay with that.”

She kissed and nuzzled his palm. “Me, too, but I think we should figure out a safe way to drink coffee. We don't want to burn ourselves.”

He hugged her tightly and took a deep breath. Then he removed himself from her hair and body.

“No,” she protested, quickly rolling over. “Don't go. I don't want coffee. I want you.”

He smiled as he scooted closer. “You got me, love, forever. But we need coffee if we're going to keep up this regimen.” He brushed her hair from her face as he glanced at her aura. Then he found her shiny, emerald eyes. “It's also one in the afternoon, and I need to call your grandparents to check in.”

“Oh.”

As she processed the comment, her brow wrinkled over her cute nose, so he reached up and smoothed it. “What's on your mind, Layla?”

“Are you going to tell them we bonded?”

“Not over the phone.”

“Then how will we do it?”

“Well, I guess we should have them come see for themselves. They won't believe it otherwise, and I'd rather not leave the inn until we've talked to them.”

Layla’s mouth fell open as her eyes widened. “You're going to invite them over like it's no big deal then let them walk in on this shocker?”

“I'll ask them and my parents to visit; tell them we need to talk. And yes, they'll have to just walk in and see it.”

“Oh,” she murmured, biting her lip. “You're calling them now?”

“Do you want me to wait?”

“I don't know. It's kind of scary.”

“What's got you scared, angel?”

“Well, it's like I'm a teenager about to tell my parents my boyfriend knocked me up or something.”

He laughed and caressed her pout. “It's nothing like that.”

“Kind of. I mean, we're basically saying hey, we had sex, and now we're committed for life. We understand it's going to be hard. Will you help us? If that isn't eerily similar, I don't know what is. Besides, I'm scared they’ll get really upset. The last time they walked into a situation like this, it was the first step in a disastrous journey that ended with the deaths of their children. How will they see anything other than bad memories when they look at us?”

“Okay,” Quin soothed, “I see your point, but you’re forgetting how much resilience your grandparents have, how much appreciation they have for life, and how much love they hold for you. Yes, they'll be scared and worried, but above all, they'll be happy for us.”

“Maybe.”

“No, Layla Love, not maybe. They know what it's like.”

Layla stared into his eyes – into his soul and all the sincerity it held – and his reassuring words soaked in, loosening her tight stomach while allowing for a smile. “It's perfect, you know.”

“Yes it is, and it's nothing like a teen pregnancy, no matter how you spin it.”

Her smile stretched. “But the analogy sounded good, right?”

His dimples appeared as he kissed her grin. “Yes it did. You are witty with your words, my love, and you make me smile.”

Her expression softened as she moved a forefinger to one of his dimples. “I love your smile, Quin. It makes my life better.”

“Your smile is like a shiny star, Layla, and I'm not the only person who treasures it. Your grandparents will need time to process the shock and worry, but in the end, they’ll want to celebrate your happiness. So, should I invite them over now, or wait? Either way I need to call to check in.”

“I guess now. They're going to know eventually…” She paused, eying him as her lips twitched into a sly grin. “Just like when a teenage girl gets pregnant.”

He laughed and lightly tickled her neck. “You're sticking to that analogy?”

“No,” she giggled. “I just wanted to see your dimples get deeper.”

His grin widened as he gave her a kiss then another. “I'll call them while I get your coffee.”

“Okay,” she agreed, pretending to examine her fingernails. “I'm going to go take a shower.”

“Oh yeah?” he laughed, recognizing her game, but instead of calling her out, he took it a step further. His fingertips slid down her back and over her butt. Then they were between her thighs, softly stroking her opening before pressing inside.

She gasped and gripped his bicep, wiggling against his hand like an attention-starved feline, which was crazy, because she’d just gotten off!

He moved closer, wedging her between his hand and hips so she couldn’t move. “Hold still,” he whispered. “I’m healing you.”

This was not what she thought he was doing, and her eyes narrowed. “Tease.”

He flashed an ornery grin as his fingers inched deeper, meticulously healing sore flesh along the way, and her eyes rolled back despite her attempt to pout. By the time he was satisfied with his work, she was fighting the urge to scream at him to stop healing her and start doing her!

“Listen,” he insisted, taking her cheek in his free hand as his fingers slid away. “If I want to keep making love to your body, I need to take care of it. We’re a blessed breed, but our bodies bruise and break as easily as anybody’s. They can’t keep up with us without a little help. Now go get in the shower,” he added, giving her butt a soft pat, “and I'll bring your coffee to you.”

She cocked an eyebrow, trying to read his expression while wishing his hand was back between her legs. “Is coffee an analogy in this case? Because that would be lovely.”

He laughed as he pulled her into hug and buried his face in her hair. “Take a long shower, my love, and I'll meet you there.”

“Mmm... That sounds much tastier than coffee.” She playfully bit his neck then pushed on his shoulders. “Hurry up and make your phone calls, then come get clean with me.”

Following one more kiss, he rolled out of bed and headed for the parlor, and Layla boldly watched him go, surprised by how unabashed she was to do so. Her embarrassment from the night before seemed unreasonable now… and downright foolish, because he was fine as hell, with a tight and muscular backside, and a well-endowed front that made her ache with need. They’d finally had sex, which was supposed to release the tension, but her desire burned hotter than ever.

With tremendous effort, she shifted her attention from his gorgeous body to his aura, and her eyes widened. The haze covered a bigger area than before, the colors were bolder, and his power-band was almost twice the size of her grandparents’ power-bands. “Your power-band is different,” she noted. “It’s much bigger.”

“I know,” he replied. “You should see yours.”

She foolishly looked down at herself, like she’d actually see it, and of course she couldn't. But she could see shiny, golden swirls and silver rivers, which seemed lost without Quin beside her. The silver strands usually looped around both their bodies, like they were trying to tie them together, but with him out of reach, the glittering bands repeatedly stretched out then curled back in, as if beckoning him. She’d never seen anything like it in another magician’s aura or bonded light, not even her parents’.

Quin had been out of the room for about five seconds, and Layla could feel his absence – an unsettling sensation that started small but got stronger every second he was gone. She crawled out of bed and walked across the room, gauging whether or not the amount of distance between them made a difference. Her heart lightened as she drew closer to the parlor, and by the time she turned and pressed her back against the wall, her anxiety had nearly disappeared. Suddenly and without conscious reasoning, she understood why – he stood on the other side of the wall, testing their new bond the same way.

He quietly laughed, and she smiled as she rested her head against the soft wallpaper. “I already miss you, Quin.”

“Me, too, love, but you know what this means, right?”

“What?”

“We’ll always be able to find each other, even when there are obstacles in the way.”

“How about we just skip the losing each other part, huh?”

He was silent for a moment. Then she felt a spike in his energy, in the soothing warmth she experienced when he was nearby and loving her. “That’s the sweetest deal I’ve ever been offered, Layla. I’d die to keep you within reach.”

She turned and pressed her palms to the wall, knowing in her gut he was doing the same. “Then that’s the deal.” An emotional lump had captured her throat, but she forced it down, replacing it with the humor, peace and pleasure he brought into her life. “Now go get my coffee and come finish what you started.”

Chapter 2

 

Quin bypassed breakfast on the balcony, serving it on the kitchenette’s bar instead, and Layla didn’t mind losing the ocean view, because she had a better one sitting beside her. He’d thrown on a pair of shorts after their steamy shower, but his chest was bare and mere inches from her roaming hands. She wore a robe, but only because she didn’t want crumbs in her lap. Getting fully clothed seemed unnecessary since the layers would soon be stripped away.

She took a bite of apple and laid her head on his shoulder as she chewed, but when his hand slid inside the front of her robe, her chewing stopped. “You’re going to make me choke.”

“If I do, I’ll save you then start pureeing your food.”

“Eww…”

“Then don’t choke,” he laughed, keeping his hand on her chest.

Obviously he had no plans to remove it, so Layla concentrated on chewing and swallowing, a task that had come naturally for two decades.

“Does it bother you?” he asked.

Her eyes widened as her head jumped from his shoulder. “Are you reading my mind?”

He laughed and pulled his hand from her robe, moving it to her curls instead. “No, but I see your aura more clearly than I see others, and when I’m close to you, I can sense your emotions.”

“So what did you sense?”

He intently studied her for a moment, like he was trying to decide what he wanted to say, and when he finally got around to saying it, he pulled her close for the delivery. “I’ll tell you, but I want you to do something for me.”

“Okay,” she agreed, and what a silly request it was. She’d do anything for him.

“I want you to work on being more open and vocal with me.”

“Oh,” she breathed, stunned by the request. Guess it wasn’t so silly.

“I know you’re not used to expressing yourself out loud,” he continued, “but that needs to end with me. Please.”

“Okay,” she agreed, feeling guilty.

“Thank you.” He kissed her head then gave her some room. “So, I get the sense I make you feel dependent.”

Layla grabbed a piece of blueberry muffin and stuffed it in her mouth, trying to ignore how buttery and delicious it was so she could consider his interpretation. “That’s a good way to put it,” she decided, “a nice way, because what I really feel like is a child. And that muffin is incredible.”

“Hmm…” His fingers trailed from her hair to her throat then lower. “I don’t see you as a child.”

“I know,” she assured, pulling his palm to her heart.

“It’s the way the men in my life treat women,” he added. “It’s the way I was raised to be. I know you’re not helpless. I take care of you because I want to, because it makes me feel good.”

“I know,” she repeated, keeping her eyes on his, which seemed to be pleading with her to understand and accept.

“Then back to my original question,” he whispered. “Does it bother you?”

“No, Quin. I love how you take care of me, but it’s still new. I need to adjust.”

“It’s not all on your shoulders, Layla. I can adjust, too. If you need a sense of independence, tell me, and we’ll figure out a way to give it to you.”

“Thank you.”

He laughed and drummed his fingers on her heart. “You’re silly. Don’t thank me for this.”

She smiled as she pulled his palm into a kiss. Then she placed it on one of her breasts before attacking the rest of that muffin.

Once they'd eaten enough to stay nourished, he carried her to the sofa. Then he showered her in teasing kisses before leaving her there so he could clean their breakfast mess. She pouted as she watched him walk away, but the TV remote was nearby, so she reached for the distraction.

“I wouldn't bother with the TV,” he said, refilling their coffee mugs. “They're almost here.”

Layla jolted upright, her stomach flipping as her fidgety fingers dropped the remote. She stood, thinking she might get dressed. Then she sat, deciding there wasn’t time. She played percussion on her knees then turned her attention to a fruit basket on the table. Apples and oranges hopped around in the air before peeling and slicing themselves. Then a plate flew from the kitchen and smoothly landed on the coffee table. The uniform pieces of fruit arranged themselves on the plate as the rejected peels and cores zoomed to the trash. Then a fresh flower arrangement appeared on the table.

Quin laughed, and Layla looked up, watching him approach with their coffee. He placed the mugs on the table. Then he sat on the sofa and pulled her onto his lap. “That looked like a fun way to fidget.”

The moment he touched her, her heart rate slowed and her muscles relaxed. She remained nervous, but the need to act was gone. “It makes a big difference when you touch me.”

He smiled and pulled her palm to his cheek. “It's the same for me, and it will always be that way. We'll never get over that feeling.”

She watched him kiss her wrist, remembering the unease she felt when they were in separate rooms. “So how do bonded couples leave each other's sides?”

“They don't unless absolutely necessary.”

Her eyes widened. “So you and I will never be apart?”

He soberly looked over. “I sincerely hope not.”

“What about your job?”

“We'll figure something out.”

“I guess we have a lot to figure out.” Her gaze fell to her lap as her mind flipped through things that would need to change. His career was on a perpetual hiatus, he'd have to move in with her, and any future plans he'd made would have to be rethought. His life had been flipped upside down overnight.

“Stop, Layla.”

His stern voice had her head snapping up. “Stop what?”

“Stop thinking I'm making big sacrifices, because I'm not. You’re my life, just you. All the other things are accessories, and I don't need accessories if I don't have my life. Do you feel like you're missing out?”

“No!”

“Then you must know I feel the same. We're bonded, love. We're on the same wavelength. We have been this entire time, but now we have proof, and not just emotional proof.” He waved a hand through the gold and silver haze around them. “We have visual proof of how much we love each other and how much we need to be together. What you feel, I feel, so if you're concerned I'm missing something, search yourself, because if I'm missing it, you're missing it.”

“Is that really how it works?”

“Yes, angel. I'm only as happy as you are, and you're only as happy as I am.”

She pulled his fingers to her lips. “We make each other very happy.”

“Yes we do,” he agreed. Then he leaned in for a slow and sweet kiss. “They're here.”

“All of them?”

“Yes, your grandparents and my parents.”

Her heart sped up, and he quickly placed a palm over it. “It's okay, love. This is good news.”

She buried her face in his neck and took several deep breaths, trying to draw strength from his sturdiness. “Right… good news.”

He quietly laughed, and it soothed her until someone tapped on the door.

“I love you,” he whispered, softly kissing her ear.

“I love you, too,” she returned. Then she took a deep breath and pulled her face from his neck. “Okay, let them in.”

He kissed her cheek while mentally telling their family to come in, and she blindly clutched his hands, her eyes glued to the foyer.

When the three golden couples entered the suite to find a fourth, their mouths fell open as the door flew shut behind them. Frozen in place, they didn’t say a word. They just stared, their features strained by disbelief; their complexions blanched by surprise.

They eventually inched further into the room, taking in the details of the new bonded lights and changed auras, but only sighs drifted from their parted lips as their wide eyes searched and searched again.

Finally, Cordelia and Daleen left the others and rushed forward, putting a small dent in the tension. Quin’s mom sat next to him on the sofa while Daleen knelt at his feet. Then they both took him and Layla’s hands, but they still didn't speak. They just stared, their auras vibrating and pulsing.

Morrigan soon followed, and she didn't speak either, nor did she sit. After getting as close to Layla as she could, she laid her hands and lips on the top of her head and squeezed her eyes shut.

The three men remained frozen, staring at the newly bonded mates in shock, but after a long and emotional moment, Serafin broke the heavy silence by clearing his throat. “How did this happen?”

Quin looked away from Layla and raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

Serafin lifted a hand to his throat and cleared it again. “Just yesterday, when everyone saw you around town, you weren't... you weren't... bonded.”

“No,” Quin confirmed. “We bonded last night.” He smiled at Layla, remembering, and she smiled back, her eyes shiny with comprehension.

Caitrin stepped forward with stiff shoulders and a wrinkled forehead. “Are you telling us… Are you trying to say…” He huffed as his nostrils flared. “Are you saying last night was the first time you had sex with each other?”

Layla buried her face in Quin's neck, and he wrapped her in a hug while meeting Caitrin's stare. “Is that so hard to believe?”

Caitrin’s chest expanded as his face reddened. “Yes! You've been sleeping in her bed for over a week. And I've never seen such a strong connection between two people without a sexual relationship present. Never.”

Quin shrugged as he stroked the back of Layla's neck. “I won’t pretend it wasn’t a challenge, but I can control myself, particularly if her well-being warrants it. And I think this golden light surrounding us would explain our connection sans sex. If this wasn't so unbelievable, I’d say we should have seen it coming.”

Caitrin scowled and started pacing. “I might have seen it coming if I'd known you hadn't consummated the relationship.”

“Are you suggesting I should have filled you in on our sex life?” Quin returned. “There's no way I could have predicted this. I realize our relationship has been intense from the beginning, but what else would it be when someone like her is involved? She's perfect in everyone's eyes, not just mine, and nearly every wizard in the world would trip over themselves to give her what I've given her. Never in my wildest dreams did I think it was leading to this, so why would I concern you with our sex life?”

“You wouldn't,” Caitrin conceded. “But never in my wildest dreams did I believe you hadn't bedded her already.”

“You have to give him credit for willpower,” Kemble mumbled.

Caitrin halted and looked over. “Insanity is what most wizards would call it.”

“She was dealing with injuries,” Quin cut in, “and daily drama. You know what, this discussion is pointless, and it’s embarrassing her. It doesn’t matter when it happened or whether or not we saw it coming. What would you have done if you'd known, Caitrin? Tell me to leave her alone? No. And even if you had, do you think I would have listened? Nothing was going to stop this from happening. Now let’s move on.”

Silence captured the room once more, and its occupants barely breathed, slowly pulling in air heavy with contrasting emotions. An invisible game of tug-of-war was taking place. Happiness and love battling worry and fear. Everyone felt it, even as they struggled with their own internal conflicts, attempting to secure a victory for optimism. Some had an easier undertaking than others.

Kemble eyed his son’s aura as he moved behind the sofa. Then he laid a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “The silver cords in your auras – I’ve never seen anything like it. They’re connected, circling both of you.”

“I know,” Quin replied. “And they’re not in our auras. They appeared with our bonded lights. We can see them.”

“Really?” Caitrin asked, moving in for a closer look.

“Yes,” Quin answered. “We hoped one of you could explain them.”

Caitrin looked at Serafin, who shrugged and shook his head, so the subject was brushed aside as Caitrin continued pacing. “What are your thoughts, Serafin?”

Serafin ran a hand down his face then mumbled into his palm. “I don't know, Caitrin. This is… this is so many things. I don't know where to begin.” He pulled his hand away from his mouth, but only to move it back to his forehead. “I don't understand how this happened. It should be impossible. Of all the unbelievable things that occur in the magical world, this is something no one ever thought they’d see.” He dropped his hand and looked over, watching the back of Layla’s head with glistening emerald eyes. “Sweet Layla, we must beg your forgiveness. We're so happy for you. I know we're not properly expressing it, but we're… overwhelmed.”

Layla pulled her face from Quin’s neck and found her grandpa’s stare. “I understand the feeling.”

Caitrin's gaze snapped to Quin. “Did you perform an anti-fertility ritual?”

A collective gasp echoed through the room. Then everyone held their breath as they watched Quin. Everyone save for Morrigan that is, who held her breath, but kept her face buried in Layla's hair.

“Yes,” Quin answered, and when they didn't exhale, he expounded. “I swear, there's absolutely no way she's pregnant.”

Layla returned her scarlet face to his neck and quietly giggled, and everyone breathed.

Quin laughed at them then touched his lips to Layla's cheek. “You just saved everyone from suffocation, my love. What was that giggle about?”

She stayed hidden as she answered. “That was the second time you've had to swear I’m not pregnant, and I think you used the same words and everything. It's not really funny, though. I don't know why I laughed. It just felt like a moment that needed a laugh.”

He smiled and played with the tips of her hair. “You're very intuitive, angel, because the moment did need a laugh.” He dropped her curl and looked up. “We understand the situation is fragile, and we're well aware of the difficulties we face, but there's no point in standing around uptight about it. That's not going to help anyone. So get yourselves something to drink and find comfortable seats. Then we’ll figure out what to do next. Layla and I are worried, but we're happy, and we’d prefer it if our union didn't have rainclouds constantly hanging over it.”

“You're right,” Cordelia agreed. “This is a blessed union.”

“Yes,” Kemble added, giving Quin’s shoulder another squeeze. “Now we must keep you safe so you can enjoy it.”

“It's my number one priority,” Quin assured.

Kemble cleared his throat and pulled his hand away. “Of course it is.”

Layla left Quin’s neck and looked at Daleen. Then she tried to look at Morrigan, but everywhere her head went, Morrigan went. Layla finally tilted her head all the way back, forcing Morrigan to leave it. Then she flipped her gaze between her grandmas, the only two in the room who hadn't spoken. “Are you two okay?”

Daleen reached out with a shaky hand and touched Layla's cheek. “We're so happy for you and Quin, darling, but we're also worried. I'm sorry we aren't able to express how happy we are, but you must know we understand how beautiful and special this is.”

Morrigan ran a hand down Layla's hair as her lips quivered. “We can see how happy you are. Now we just need make sure you stay that way.” She was obviously fighting an emotional breakdown – tears sparkling in her peach eyes like morning dew.

Layla watched her for several seconds then reached out with both hands, taking one of Morrigan’s and one of Daleen’s. “I understand why this is hard for you, but the situation is different. I'm different.” She paused and looked down, staring at their delicate fingers as she swallowed a lump. “Please don't look at me and picture my ill mother. It makes me sad to think that's what you see when you look at me.”

Every heart in the room constricted under the weight of her blunt honesty, and Morrigan's mouth dropped open. “It's not like that, sweetie. Of course we see you.”

“I know you do,” Layla assured, “but you also see her. I can tell by your faces, your auras and your touch. I'm sure if I were looking at me through your eyes, I’d see the same thing, but I'm asking you to try to stop, because it's not doing anyone any good. It just makes things harder, and it makes everyone sad. She wouldn't let you get away with it if she were here.”

Morrigan and Daleen took a long look at each other. Then they breathed deep and turned to their granddaughter.

“You’re right,” Morrigan conceded, leaning over to kiss Layla’s head. “Rhosewen would tell us to leave and come back when we were ready to see the glass half-full.”

“Well don't make me kick you out,” Layla playfully warned.

Morrigan stole one more whiff of Layla’s hair then straightened. “I can hear Rhosewen as clearly as I hear you.”

She kissed Layla's hand then let it slip away, but apparently she wasn’t strong enough to handle this one on her own, because she immediately fled to Caitrin, who welcomed her with open arms.

He lifted a palm to her cheek as he worriedly searched her face, and she reassured him with a small smile. “Help me get everyone coffee?”

“Of course,” he agreed, taking her under his arm. Then they headed for the kitchenette. “Does everyone want some?”

Mumbles of agreement floated through the room as six more seats were summoned to the table, and within seconds the golden family was gathered with fresh coffee in hand.

Caitrin summoned a pipe and lit it with a flaming fingertip. Then he passed it to Morrigan, who took a pull before passing it to Daleen. Layla curiously watched the exchange while sniffing the air, but every time someone exhaled smoke, they waved a magical hand and swept the fumes away.

When Daleen passed the pipe to Serafin, who also partook, Layla raised an eyebrow at Quin. “What are they smoking?”

“Cannabis,” he answered, as casual as ever, like they were passing around tea and cookies.

Layla flipped her stunned gaze to Kemble, who took his turn before passing the pipe to Cordelia.

“Are you serious?” Layla asked, turning back to Quin.

He smiled as he tucked a curl behind her ear and smoothed her wrinkled brow. “Yes. It’s a natural relaxant; eases stress and helps us think calmly when emotions are high.”

“Do you smoke it?”

“Sometimes.” He slid a forefinger down her nose and lightly tapped the tip. “You've never tried it?”

“No. I’ve seen people smoke it, but I thought it was bad for you.”

“Smoking isn’t good for your lungs, but we're healers, so that's not an issue for us.”

“It's also illegal,” she pointed out, and several people in the room laughed.

“We don't live by the government's rules,” Quin returned, accepting the pipe from his mom. “And the law doesn't make much sense in the first place. Luckily for the hexless, state legislatures are catching on. Medical marijuana is legal in Oregon.”

“It is?”

“Yep.”

“Hmm… So you guys wait until I’m bonded into the family to spring the drugs on me?”

Again, several people laughed, and Quin smiled as he wiggled her nose. “You’ve seen Caitrin smoke it.”

“I have?”

“Yes, and you’ll see it again. Most magicians smoke as often as they drink.” He paused and held up the pipe. “Would you like to try it? Few people could benefit from its calming effect more than you. You’ve had a shitty week.”

“Um… I probably shouldn’t. I don't know how, and I don't want to be stupid.”

“It won't make you stupid, Layla. I promise.”

“I've seen people smoke it, and they’d get goofy.”

“Do they look stupid or goofy?” he asked, motioning to the others.

Layla looked at them, noting their auras were more peaceful than before, and their expressions held calm amusement as they watched her and Quin's conversation. “No, I guess they don't, but they've done it before. It might be different with me.”

“It's your choice, love, but I promise it would merely relax you.”

Layla stared at the pipe, thinking it would be an interesting experience if nothing else, and the relaxation he spoke of was tempting. “I don't know, Quin. I feel weird about it.”

“How about I help you, and you just inhale a small amount?”

“How would you do that?”

He stared at her face for a moment, then her aura. Then he winked and tucked the stem of the pipe in his mouth. Layla watched closely as he lit the weed and sucked, and when he pulled the pipe from his lips, he pulled her to them, kissing while releasing half the smoke into her mouth. His mental voice invaded her head, telling her to inhale as he deepened his kiss, and she lazily obeyed, so wrapped up in him she practically forgot about the herb. The smoke hotly entered her lungs. Then it rolled from her nostrils, but she was concentrating on the softness of his lips and tongue, so she barely noticed.

The weed… or his mouth… or a combination of the two, made her melt, and he enhanced the experience by blindly passing the pipe along and wrapping her in a warm hug. A long and blissful moment passed before he pulled his lips from hers. Then he searched her eyes and aura before kissing her nose. “How do you feel? Stupid or goofy?”

Layla’s lips twitched with humor as she wiped his taste from them, trying to separate her reaction to his kiss from her reaction to the weed. Both had been instantaneous, but while his kiss was powerful, the herb had a more subtle effect, and neither had been unpleasant. She just felt more at ease with everything, a little tingly... and hungry for his mouth. “No,” she assured. “Stupid and goofy aren't in the list.”

“Relaxed?”

She grinned, and it was probably a goofy grin, but it had nothing to do with the cannabis and everything to do with the throb between her thighs. “Sure.”

His dimples deepened as he glanced at her aura. Then he stole one more kiss before summoning her coffee from the table and heating it up. “Good. Lean back while we figure out our next move.” He carefully passed the mug over then looked at Caitrin. “Let's start with the most pressing issue. Agro. He’s tiptoeing around now, but that won’t last forever.”

Caitrin took Morrigan's hand and leaned back in his chair. “No it won’t. We tried to lead him to Lake Tahoe, but judging by the fit he threw on our lawn Saturday night, it doesn’t look like he took the bait.”

“How long do you think we have before he makes his next move?” Quin asked.

Caitrin shrugged. “He’s probably still nursing soldiers back to health and trying to replace those he slaughtered on our lawn. We might get another day or two of peace before he shows up… we might not. He's too volatile to predict.”

Quin closed his eyes and nodded, and Layla studied his features, knowing he was contemplating decisions no one should ever have to face.

“What do you think Agro would do if he saw Layla and me?” he asked, opening his eyes.

An uncomfortable beat of silence passed as everyone traded glances. Then Serafin leaned forward to answer. “He won’t dismiss the situation, but that's the only certainty I can offer.”

“Let's hear the guesses,” Quin insisted.

“The guesses,” Serafin mumbled, resting his chin in his palm. “He’d probably be disappointed at first, but then he’d realize all the ways your union could benefit him. He’ll no doubt want what the two of you have to offer, but it's hard to say which path he’d choose or how he’d go about walking it. He isn't getting any younger, so he may break his own rules and try to force you both into his troops, or he may gamble on longevity and deem your offspring a higher priority. Either way, the results aren't pleasant.”

“What about the rest of the magical world?” Quin asked. “What do you think about them seeing us?”

Everyone shifted as Serafin responded. “There would be negative ramifications, a lot of them, but dealing with them is worth considering since the alternative is quite heartbreaking.”

Layla straightened and looked at her grandfather. “What alternative?”

“A life in hiding, and not just from the Unforgivables – from everyone. And not just for a while – forever. No social life in the magical world, and no public appearances near coven populated areas, which is about every beautiful location in the world. It would all have to end if you choose to keep your status a secret.”

“Even if we conceal our auras?”

Serafin frowned and gave a shrug. “Of course that would help you maintain your anonymity, but every time you step out with hidden auras there's a chance something will have them snapping free, so you'll be taking a risk no matter where you go. Besides, constantly concealing your auras isn't an ideal option. I know you handle it well, but over time it will start to wear on you. Prolonged concealment can bring a magician down to a level that's difficult to recover from.”

Layla sent her untouched coffee to the table and tucked her face into Quin's neck. “And what are the negative ramifications that would accompany an open life?”

“You’ll be under constant scrutiny,” Kemble predicted.

“And treated like objects,” Caitrin added. “If word travels, which it likely will, they'll come from miles away to see if it's true. Oregon will swarm with foreign magicians asking questions about you.”

“If word travels,” Serafin noted, “you could have more than curious eyes headed your way. Every greedy magician in the world will want a piece of you. Agro would be a drop in the cauldron if the world was alerted to your union.”

Layla’s chest felt heavy and tight, pressing on her lungs and making it hard to breathe. “Are there a lot of magicians like Agro?”

“Yes,” Serafin answered. “Agro’s currently the top terror in the states, but there are a few groups based in other countries that are trouble on all accounts. And if there was any truth to Finley’s claims, one of them already has you on their radar.”

“So those are our options,” she mumbled. “Stay hidden from everyone and everything, or face a life of constant scrutiny and lurking danger.”

No one answered, so they might as well have said a big fat yes.

Layla moved her mouth to Quin's ear and whispered. “I'll be right back.”

She unfolded herself from his lap and flew to the bedroom. Then she numbly walked to the bathroom and seated herself on the vanity. She needed to think, and she didn’t want to do it with her loved one’s voices bouncing in her head, so she stared at the mirror and contemplated her and Quin’s options, as pitiful as they were.

She laid her hands in her lap and stretched her fingers, thinking about what she was capable of. Why were the two most powerful magicians in the world being pushed around? It wasn’t fair, and she was already sick of it. She and Quin hadn't hurt anyone, yet they were being punished, and it seemed there wasn't a damn thing they could do about it, which was ridiculous considering they held more power than anyone. She didn’t want people to fear her; she didn’t want to revel in her power and hold it over people’s heads. Nor did she want to live in fear. And she shouldn't have to, damn it. And Quin shouldn't have to give up his home and the life he'd made for himself simply because he'd gained uncanny power. If anything, the increased magical ability should expand his opportunities, not limit his options.

She raised her hands, watching summoned flames ripple from her flesh. Then the fire turned to ice as she grasped it in her fists, letting the cold sink its teeth into her joints.

She was done hiding. She and Quin deserved a happy life, and while they might find contentment hidden away with only each other to love, they’d miss out on the world around them. Her parents didn't die so she could live a life severed from the world. They died to give her a full and free life, and she wasn't going to let it slip away so easily. If someone was going to get it, they’d have to rip it from her cold, dead hands.

 

Chapter 3

 

Quin's eyes stayed on the bedroom door as he flexed his empty hands, catching sporadic snippets of the discussion taking place around him. Damn. He couldn't concentrate when he couldn't see her, and she'd been gone for at least ten minutes.

He was leaning forward to stand when the bedroom door opened and Layla walked through it, floating the clothes from the closet with her. Quin paused, his hands on his knees as he watched her send their wardrobe to the foyer and walk to the kitchenette. She grabbed a plate of chocolate chip cookies off the bar. Then she turned and leaned against the counter, finding his stare as she ate her snack.

“Want one?” she asked, holding up a half-eaten cookie.

Quin shook his head no, wondering what conclusions she'd reached in her absence.

She looked to the others and raised her eyebrows. “Anyone else? They're really good.”

They silently shook their heads no, and Quin scooted to the edge of the sofa, resting his elbows on his knees while freeing his itchy hands. “What are you doing, Layla?”

“Eating a cookie,” she answered, her smile genuine and easy.

He couldn't help but smile back. “I can see that. What's with the clothes?”

“We're going home,” she announced. Then she summoned a carton of milk, poured a glass, emptied it, then filled it again.

“Are you tired of Karena's best room?” Quin asked, conflicted about the colors and emotions in her aura.

She blissfully sighed and sent the milk to the fridge. “No. I love this suite. I hope you'll bring me here again and again.”

“Sure, love. Anytime.” He glanced at the clothes then found her eyes. “So why are you in such a hurry to leave?”

She watched him while she finished her second glass of milk, her gaze meaningful, her jaw set. By the time she lowered the cup and wiped her mouth, Quin knew what was coming.

“I'm done hiding, Quin. And you're not going to start.”

Everyone looked from her to Quin, who had to swallow a lump to find his voice. “Layla Love...” He didn't know what to say, how to tell her the thought of her facing endless danger terrified him, stole his breath and tormented his heart.

Keeping her gaze locked on his, she slowly shook her head. “That's not how I want to live; it's not how my parents wanted me to live, and it's not how you should have to live. We're going home and living our lives exactly the way we want to.” She magically cleaned her glass and placed it in the cabinet. Then she turned her back on everyone and rested her palms on the counter. “If we'll be placing the coven in danger by coming home, we'll move, but I'm not leaving Oregon. We'll build a house nearby. That's fine with me. That's an option I can live with.”

Serafin looked from Quin’s face to Layla's tense back. “Agro's still close, sweetheart.”

“I don't care,” she returned. “Let him find me. I'm useless to him now. He won't want me once he realizes my loyalties will always lie with Quin. You guys know that.”

“He may have lost any chances of loyalty,” Caitrin countered, “but that won’t deter him from claiming the treasure. Even if he decides you’re too much trouble, he'll do everything he can to get his hands on your children.”

There was a moment of silence that seemed to draw out forever. Then Layla firmly broke it, her voice like cold stone. “There won't be any children for him to take.”

Everyone gasped, and Quin clutched his chest, the heart within twisting as his lungs flattened and his stomach flipped. His whole body felt bruised and weak, crushed by the weight of her words. Using magic to loosen his tight throat, he forced himself to breathe. “Really, love?”

More silence. Then she drummed her fingernails on the counter and tapped a toe on the floor. Her shoulders shook and expanded with a choppy breath, and the beauty in her aura started draining away, making room for intense grief.

Quin flew to her and tentatively reached for her curls, worried she’d reject his touch in her sorrowful state, but the moment she tilted her head toward his fingers, he took her in his arms and pulled her back to his chest. His palm found her cheek as he kissed the top of her head, and she leaned into his hand, drifting trembling lips across his thumb as a tear rolled over his forefinger.

“Really, Quin,” she whispered. “We can't.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to endure the anguish pressing in on him. “Maybe it doesn't have to be that way.”

She gave a tiny nod as more tears followed the first. “But it does have to be that way. Look at the position we're in because of our powers. Now imagine what our child would face. From their very first breath to their very last they’d be a victim of circumstance. I can't do that... I can't put a child through that.”

Layla couldn’t find the strength to come right out and say it, but she knew having a child with him would be impossible, literally impossible. Bonded couples couldn't conceive if one of them had doubts, and no matter what happened down the road, she’d always fear bringing a child into their predicament. Bonding with Quin had made it impossible to have babies with him. She would never carry a baby. She said the words in her head, and they pierced her heart more keenly than expected. She would never carry a baby.

Quin sucked a deep breath into his burning lungs and pulled her tighter against him, knowing she was right – passing their burdens on to a child would be the epitome of selfishness, no matter how long they waited to do it. Several images flashed through his mind – some he'd seen before, some he’d yet to dream about, but all of them were gone now and would never be. He always imagined he’d someday have a child, and since he'd met his angel, he'd seen it in his dreams – a baby girl with dark curls, emerald eyes, and a soul-softening pucker framed by dimples; and two versions of a baby boy, both with his face, but one with Layla's emerald gaze.

As the visions disintegrated and drifted away, his heart broke for himself and busted for Layla. She’d be a fantastic mom – he knew by the way she doted on Alana – but she’d never get the chance to prove it.

Ignoring his churning stomach, he turned her into a hug. “I'm sorry, love.”

“Me, too, Quin. I want to give you everything, but I can't give you this. I can’t do that to a baby… to our baby.”

“I know, angel. I’d never ask you to.”

Layla filled her lungs with his strengthening scent. Then she pulled her face from his chest and wiped away tears. She tried to smile at him, but only managed a twitch. “If we ever get out of this mess, we'll adopt. We'll find a child who's had their family torn apart by people like the Unforgivables, and we'll give them the life they deserve.”

He reached for her face, and she closed her eyes, letting tingles flood her nerve-endings as his fingertips drifted across her forehead and down her nose, coming to a rest on her pulsing lips.

“That's a beautiful solution, my love, and if that's what you want, that's what we'll do. When it's safe enough.”

She opened her eyes and managed a smile. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Layla.”

“So we're going home?”

He hesitated then sighed. “I don't know. It's a big risk, and I'm not as ready as you are to take it.”

“I don't want to leave. I'd rather stay and face the danger.”

“We're talking about our lives, Layla.”

“We're not helpless, Quin. We're the exact opposite of helpless. You and I can do anything we set our minds on. Surely we stand a good chance against anything they can throw at us.”

“You want to face them?”

“Only if we have to.”

“If we don't leave, we'll have to face them.”

“Then that's what we'll do.”

“Layla...”

“No, Quin. I don't want to hide. I don't know much now, but if you help me, I'll be able to defend myself better than anyone else in the world. The last thing I want is for one of us to get hurt, but we're not weak. We can live without hiding like meek rabbits.”

“I don't know if we can.”

She huffed and straightened her shoulders, her jaw set, her chin tilted. “We can. Finley lived in the magical world without being hunted, so can we.”

Quin's eyes flashed as his voice hardened. “Finley did it all wrong.”

The pain and anger in his aura tugged on Layla’s heart, but she held firm. “He did do it wrong, but we'll do it right. He was crazy, but he made a valid point beneath the nonsense. Why is our power punishing us? Obviously I don't believe I should get everything handed to me, but I shouldn't have everything taken away either.”

Quin stood silent for a long moment, and Layla could tell he was reading her, trying to decide if he had a chance at changing her mind. “What are we going to do about Agro?”

She shrugged. “Let him find me. What can he do? He'll never be able to sway my loyalties, and there won't be any children for him to take. I'm no longer his perfect treasure.”

“If he can't use you, he'll kill you. He might slaughter everyone in sight when he realizes you’re bonded and there’s nothing for him to gain by it.”

“Well, we can't have that, can we?”

“No, we definitely cannot.”

She searched for answers, but came up with nothing. “I’m still not hiding, so let’s figure out a solution.” She pulled Quin to the sofa and urged him to sit. Then she made herself comfortable on his lap as she looked at the others. “Any ideas?”

The women watched her with bloodshot eyes, a result of the tears they'd shed for her desperate situation, and the men watched her with wrinkled brows, still shocked by her stubbornness. Layla watched them right back, determined to get her way.

After a full minute ticked by with no answer, she dropped her gaze and played with Quin’s fingers. “When was the last time someone tried to kill Agro?”

Their silence stretched; the sad hues in their auras growing bolder.

Layla kissed Quin’s pinky then moved to the next finger. “Is anyone going to answer me?”

Serafin caved and cleared his throat. “It's been twenty-nine years since the last group, but I’m sure there have been individual attempts.”

“How many in the group?”

“Around forty. They tracked down his camp and invaded it.”

“Any survivors?”

“No.”

Layla had showered Quin's left hand in kisses, so she laid it in her lap and took the other. “Tell me about the group. Was it a coven?”

A quiet moment passed, and Layla thought they were going to refuse to answer, but then Serafin sighed and came to the rescue. “They were from five different covens that had suffered losses at Agro's hands. They wanted revenge, so their strongest joined together and planned for several months before marching to their deaths.”

“When you say their strongest, how strong were they?”

“Above average, but if you're asking if any of them had bonded powers, the answer is no.”

“No bonded children?”

“No, but Agro does have bonded children.”

“A lot of them?”

“Too many.”

“But they lead the other groups, right? They're not with him.”

“Many of them lead other troops, yes, but the outfit he travels with consists of his strongest soldiers and a handful of bonded children. He usually has a few sets of twins on hand as well.”

“Twins?”

“Yes. Multiples are more powerful than singles. They absorb a fraction of each other's ability while still in the womb. Much like bonding, but not as potent.”

“Oh.” She was playing with Quin's forefinger now, and she smiled as she kissed it. “Do you guys want to see something cool?”

Everyone looked at her like she was crazy, and she laughed as she looked at Quin, who stared back with an odd mixture of admiration and dread. Her laugh abruptly died, but her smile stayed in place as she reached for a hidden dimple. “Want to show them our new trick?”

“Sure,” he agreed, taking her hand. Then he kissed her finger and looked at the others. “Layla's brilliant and taught me a new trick, and she did it before we bonded, so I can't imagine what she'll teach me next. Go for it, angel.”

Her smile stretched as she licked her lips and held up his hand, and everyone intently watched her touch his forefinger. His chest expanded with a deep, slow breath, and Layla could tell he was pleased by the sensation of her fire. His flame-free hand crept into her hair as he reached up with the other. Then a grape-sized fireball unfurled from his fingertip.

The others watched and waited for the new trick, and Layla giggled as she glanced at Quin. He laughed as well. Then he hugged her to his chest and looked at their family. “That was her fire, not mine.”

“What?” they exclaimed.

“Yep,” Quin confirmed. “Layla decided she wanted to combine our fire spells before they left our bodies, so she filled me with her fire, like it was the easiest thing in the world to do.”

Serafin stood and moved closer. “She didn't burn you?”

“Nope. The temperature of my skin doesn't change, and the inside merely warms up.” He held out his hand for Serafin to examine, then took it back. “I can add my own fire to hers for a stronger effect. Do it again, love. Just the fingertip. We don't want to burn down Karena’s best room.”

“No we don't,” she agreed, touching her forefinger to his.

He added his own magic then pushed the combined spell from his fingertip, creating a fireball almost twice the size as the one before. “That was about sixty percent hers; forty percent mine.”

Serafin took Quin’s hand and closely eyed the spot Layla had touched. Then he handed it to Caitrin so he could do the same.

“Are you sure it's her fire?” Caitrin asked.

“Positive,” Quin answered. “Let her show you.”

“Ooh fun,” Layla approved, reaching for Caitrin’s hand.

He let her take it, and she eagerly watched his face while touching his forefinger. When her fire found him, his eyes widened and his aura pulsed. “I can't believe this.”

“Cast it,” she insisted.

He did as he was told, marveling at the flame that rolled from his flesh. “How did you figure out you could do that?”

“I just tried it, and it worked.”

“Let her show you, Serafin.”

Caitrin moved aside, and Serafin took his place, letting Layla repeat the process. “Amazing,” he praised, flashing a broad smile.

“Thanks,” she returned. “Does everyone want to feel?”

Those still in their seats replied with a resounding yes, so Layla kissed Quin's jaw then rose from his lap. One by one she placed magic into fingertips, and one by one tiny fireballs were flipped into the air. When she got back to Quin, she reclaimed his lap and picked up his wrist, placing all five fingers to his.

“I want to try something,” she said, filling his hand with fire. Then she let go, but kept her mind on the flames. “It’s still there, right?”

“Yes.”

Layla looked away and slowly scanned the room, focusing on the calming palette, the open floor plan, and the pretty art adorning the wall – anything but the magical fire in Quin’s hand.

“How about now?” she asked, returning her gaze to his. “Still there?”

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I stopped focusing on it, but I guess it won't go away until it's shot. You probably shouldn't add your own to that,” she warned, glancing at his hand.

He smirked and raised his palm, shooting a fireball about a foot in diameter toward the ceiling. The flames fizzled before getting there, and Quin quickly waved a hand, vanishing the smoke before it hit the alarm.

“Amazing,” Serafin repeated. Then he offered Caitrin his hand. “See if you can do it.”

“I'll most likely burn you,” Caitrin warned.

Serafin squared his feet with his shoulders. “I'm ready for it.”

Caitrin touched the back of Serafin’s forefinger, and Serafin softly cursed while jerking his hand away. “No, it didn't work.” He took a moment to heal the burn. Then he cocked an eyebrow at Caitrin. “One more shot, my old friend. Then you'll have to find someone else to practice on.”

Caitrin smiled as he attempted the magic again, and Serafin cursed louder the second time. “No, it's definitely not working.” A devilish grin youthened his features as he reached for Caitrin's hand. “Let's see if mine's any better.”

Caitrin laughed and prepared himself for a burn, but still yanked his arm back when his skin singed. “You're not getting two attempts,” he refused, shaking his head.

Layla laughed then glanced at her grandmas. “Let the ladies try.”

So they did. Daleen was the first to try, burning Serafin with the attempt. Then Morrigan had to be coaxed into testing the magic out on her mate.

“If you’re not going to try it on me,” Caitrin insisted, “grab Serafin’s hand, because I want to know if you can do it.”

Morrigan was obviously tempted to take him seriously, but after a deep breath, she clutched his hand and touched his finger.

Caitrin sucked in a deep breath when her fire hit him, and Morrigan murmured an apology as she healed the burn, a tear skating down her cheek.

Caitrin dried her cheek as soon as his finger was healed. Then he looked down the line. “What do you think, Kemble? Will you bother trying?”

“I am curious,” Kemble replied, turning deep dimples on Cordelia. “What do you think, love? Want to hurt me?”

She returned his grin and grabbed his wrist. “Of course. You know how much I like torturing you. It's my favorite pastime next to hammering nails through my feet and pouring lemon juice on my self-induced paper cuts.”

He laughed and kissed her nose. “Torture away.”

Squeezing her eyes shut, she touched her finger to his, but her attempt was no more successful than Morrigan’s and Daleen’s.

“Who wants to be my lab rat?” Kemble asked, looking between Caitrin and Serafin.

“I say Caitrin does it,” Serafin answered. “He offered me up like a pig for slaughter just moments ago.”

“Guess I deserve that one,” Caitrin laughed. “Get it over with, Kemble.”

Kemble gave it a try, but his magic couldn't successfully penetrate skin without burning it. “Sorry,” he offered.

Caitrin shrugged and passed his hand to Morrigan for healing. “Have you tried it, Quinlan?”

Quin sobered and tilted his head. “Do you think I’d try that on her?”

“No.”

“I told him he could,” Layla interjected.

“And of course I refused,” Quin added.

Layla scowled then grinned at him. “You're stronger now. I bet you'd have no problem doing it.” She held out her hand, and he actually took it… so he could pull her fingers into a kiss.

“No,” he refused.

“Of course not,” she whispered. “So who's going to be Quin's lab rat?”

Kemble stood and approached the sofa. “Ready when you are.”

Quin grimaced at his dad’s hand. Then he found Layla’s stare. “Just make it so, huh?”

“Yep,” she answered. “I think you'll do fine. Then you can try it on me.”

Quin watched her eyes for a moment then turned his attention on his dad’s hand. After staring at his mark for several seconds, he touched it, but only summoned fire into his own fingertip. Merely pushing the flames toward his goal seemed doomed to fail, so he decided to transfer them without passing through skin. He used the concept all the time with objects, so why not do it with fire? Fire constructed by imagination – malleable and harmless in its current state, warm but not hot, formulated but not created. If it would remain that way through the transfer, it would be painless for his father, who’d then be set with the task of making it a reality. Quin took a steady breath before releasing the heat from his finger. Then he let go of his dad’s wrist and looked up.

Eyes wide with wondrous comprehension, Kemble raised his hand and flicked a small fireball toward the ceiling.

“See?” Layla beamed, taking Quin's hand. “I told you it would work.”

“It was easy,” Quin confessed, pulling her closer. “The concept is simple.”

“What concept?” Kemble asked.

“Just transfer it,” Quin answered. “We use the theory all the time with objects.”

“I tried that,” Daleen interjected. “It didn't work for me.”

“So did I,” Caitrin added. “On my second try.”

Serafin raised his hands, remembering. “I didn't notice it at the time, but now that you mention it, I received two different types of burns with you, Caitrin. Your first try singed the outer layer of skin, while the second, and Daleen's attempt, burned beneath the flesh as well. So in all likelihood, it did work in that you successfully transferred it, but the fire was in the form of an attack rather than a delivery, which is natural for the spell. When it leaves our bodies it's very real and will burn whatever it touches, but apparently our newest bonded mates are somehow handing over an incomplete spell, one that's missing the final component, the act of turning it into a reality. They give us the product they create, but we have to turn it on, physically and mentally make it happen.”

Quin took Layla’s jaw and brushed his thumb across her lips. “I'm glad I didn't try it on you before we bonded. If Caitrin and Daleen failed, I would have failed.”

“Hmm…” she hummed. “Maybe. So you transferred it, huh?”

“Yes.”

“That's not how I do it.”

“It's not?”

“No.”

“What's your theory?”

“It's hard to explain. I never even feel the magic. I don't summon it in myself first. I summon it straight into you. Like... if I were you, or part of you. Or vice versa, I guess.”

Everyone contemplated this as they stared at her. Then Quin looked at Serafin. “What do you think? Has she figured out how to manipulate other people's magic?”

“It's hard to say,” Serafin answered, “but I doubt it. It sounds like she's combining… or incorporating, I should say, herself into others. She's not manipulating their magic. Like you said, it's definitely hers. She's just giving them the short-term ability to possess what's hers, the power and the body to handle it. I can't say for sure, but I imagine she can cast any spell she wants using a foreign body. She's working her magic through others.”

“Have you heard of another magician doing the same?” Quin asked, ever intrigued by his angel.

“No,” Serafin answered, “and here's why. All of us, with practice, can bend, break, heal and manipulate a body and its physical functions, inside and out. And we can negatively affect another's spells by magically tweaking the brain with corporeal force, which scrambles the senses. We can even boost another's magic with emotional encouragement and physical contact, which is simply a manipulation of the psyche, a stimulation of soul and personality. But we can't make a person do what they're not meant to do. We can't make their magic and body surpass what they were made to handle. We can't create within them something that wasn't there to begin with. We can speed up a heart, but if we pump it faster than it was made to withstand, it's going to bust. If we provide a body with magic it's not built for, it's going to break or burn or freeze or explode. I have a feeling Layla can prevent those consequences. Now keep in mind this is all speculation, but from what little information we have, I’d say that, with a touch, she gains... an equal of sorts, and somehow, while that equal remains cognizant, in control of their mind and body, she's in there, too, molding their bodies to meet her requirements while mentally operating from within. She's, in a sense, living inside them, raising them to her level.”

Quin found Layla's face and smiled. “Does that sound right?”

“Kind of,” she answered, “but I never really thought of it like that. I didn't put that much consideration into it.”

“Thinking up and performing that kind of magic is probably as natural to you as hovering is to everyone else.” He paused and ran a forefinger down the bridge of her nose. “No wonder it feels so good when you share your magic. You become part of me, and I can't think of anything more pleasing than that. You're incredible.”

“Thank you, but it sounds kind of creepy – living in someone else. Not you of course. I could live in you forever. But others.”

“You're not, though. You're doing it with a touch. It's wonderful magic, Layla.”

“I guess.”

“I know,” he countered. Then he kissed the tip of her nose and looked at Serafin. “I'm not working the magic like she is. Does that mean I shouldn't fill people with a full dose of heat?”

“I wouldn't try it yet,” Serafin advised. “With some experimentation, you might be able to do what she's doing. Or you might be able to adjust your own theory to compensate. It's undiscovered territory, so it's going to take trial and error to get it right. We'll need to figure out a way for you to safely test yourself.”

“And we will,” Kemble cut in, giving Quin’s shoulder a proud slap before returning to his chair. “Have you experimented with Layla's trick?”

Layla and Quin grinned and answered in unison. “Yes.”

Layla laughed as she turned her face into his neck, and his smile stretched as he drifted his lips across her hair. “It was fantastic,” he recalled. “I don't think you guys will believe it until you see it. If the media reports a meteor landed off the coast of Oregon last night, don't buy into it.” He paused, remembering they were even stronger now. “I can't imagine what we can do now. It might be difficult to figure out. We’ll need a huge testing area.”

“How large was your combined fireball before?” Caitrin asked.

“I can’t say for sure,” Quin answered, “but it was unlike anything I've seen or heard about. I wouldn't feel comfortable trying it on our lawn.”

Everyone's foreheads wrinkled, and Quin laughed as he shook his head. “Just wait. You'll believe it when you see it. We'll have to figure out a safe place to play. Then we'll test our new abilities.”

Layla’s aura flashed with colors that didn’t belong, and though her face remained hidden, her voice was sure and strong. “I like that idea.”

 

Chapter 4

 

Quin stared at the top of Layla’s head, the haunted haze around her squeezing his heavy heart. “What's on your mind, love?”

“Lots of things, Quin.”

“I know,” he whispered, nuzzling her hair. “Would you like to tell me what you're scheming on?”

“I'm not scheming on anything. I'm just trying to figure out how to stay alive, and I think testing my magic is a good place to start.”

He knew there was more to it than that, and so did everyone else. He looked at their worried faces and could tell they felt as helpless as him. “So we're going home?” he asked, looking back down.

“Yep,” she answered, “as long as it’s okay with the coven. If not, we’ll find a place nearby.”

“We'll stay in the community, not outside of it.”

“Then it's settled.”

“It's not settled.”

She pulled her face from his neck and found his stare. “What do you mean?”

“What do you intend to do about Agro?”

Layla opened her mouth, but didn't answer, because she didn't know what to say. What she wanted to do was let the bastard come so she could tell him to go to hell, but a response like that would get her family killed, so of course it was out of the question.

“Layla.”

“I don't know, Quin.”

“You're not facing him. I can't let you do that.”

She twisted and pulled herself up, bringing her face closer to his. “How much sense does it make for me to run and hide while others stay and face him? I don't have to be helpless anymore, Quin, and it's unfair for other people to protect me. Do you think our family wanted to face them? No, but they did.”

“This is different.”

“You're right. It is different, but no matter how the victims vary, this is about me, so it's something I should be dealing with. Not everyone except me.”

He took a measured breath while laying his palm on her heart. “It is about you, and that's exactly why you're not facing him. He may be hurting our loved ones, but he's not stealing them, or cursing them, or killing them. Those are the things he’d do to you, and those are far worse than torture spells.”

“He hasn't done any of those things to our family yet, but it’s going to happen. Caitrin told us Agro had to refrain from slaughtering the entire coven the second time he blew through. Then he slaughtered his own soldiers when he dropped in to find the community empty. If he sits on his hands while rebuilding his army, his patience will be spent by his next visit.”

Quin's jaw flexed as he breathed through his nose. “And what do you plan to do about it?”

Hating his tension, Layla snuggled closer and ran her fingers along the curves of his face. “I don't know, but we need to figure it out. I don't want to hide like a helpless victim while others die for me. I followed your rules and ran from him while everyone else stayed, and I did it because I was helpless to do anything else. I'm still helpless, but I don't have to be, and I need to learn how not to be. Until that point, I don't know what I'm going to do.”

“And after that point?”

“I'm going to let him find me.”

“And do what?”

“That depends on him I guess.”

“Are you thinking about trying to kill him?”

She carefully considered this then shrugged. “If that’s what it takes to protect myself and the people I love, yes, I’ll do my best to kill him.” She paused then nodded. “I think I’d have a decent chance.”

Quin's face paled as his aura darkened. “If you learn more about your magic, I have no doubt you could defeat Agro, but he doesn't travel alone, and it's always the others who keep his skin intact. You wouldn't be facing Agro, you’d be facing his army.”

“Well that's something we'll have to consider, isn't it?”

Quin closed his eyes, keeping one hand on her heart and one in her hair, and he stayed that way for a long time, his shadowed aura flowing slowly… sadly. “I can't,” he breathed, finding her stare. “We'll die. Do you understand that? We'll both die whether we take Agro with us or not.”

Layla watched his eyes… his soul, and she could see how torn it was. His pain made her nauseated, and she was tempted to say Okay, let's hide. Just you and me. Forever. But it wasn't right, it wasn't fair, and it wasn't what they wanted, what they deserved. “You really don't think we have a chance, Quin? Not one glimmer of hope?”

“We don't have the power to take on a ruthless army, Layla.”

“There has to be a way.”

His eyes widened on her. “Aren't you scared?”

“Of course I'm scared, Quin. I'm terrified, but if we give up and hide, and let him take everything we have, he wins. I don't think my mom and dad would have hid if she hadn't gotten pregnant, and I'm not going to get pregnant, so why should we leave? Teach me how to defend myself and let the dice roll.”

He didn’t reply. He just watched her while swallowing hugely, and she didn’t need words to know how he felt. Taking his jaw, she slid her thumb to a hidden dimple and quietly pled her case. “We have a beautiful life here, Quin. I know if we die, we lose it, but if we hide, we're giving it away. Of course I could live hidden from the world as long as I stayed tucked in your arms. You know it’s my favorite place to be. But a life in hiding isn’t what we want, not for ourselves or for each other. We want to be able to sit on the lawn with our family; eat our meals at a table with the people we love before lying on the ground to watch them perform magic. We want to see Alana and Brayden grow up, and Bann and Sky graduate. We want to take walks on the beach, fly over the ocean, and drink amazing coffee at Cinnia's cafe. I don't want to surrender the things that are special to me, Quin. It feels like I’d be placing them in Agro's hands and bowing my head in defeat. You once told me some things are worth dying for, and you're right. I have a long list of things worth dying for, and by hiding, I’d be giving all but one of those things away.”

He took her face in both hands, blinking as he swallowed another lump. “It's impossible to do this by ourselves, Layla. It can't be done. One of us would have to watch the other die, then turn and face our own death. And I can't watch you die.” He pulled her closer, whispering against her lips. “I'm not – that – strong.”

Seeing his glistening eyes and hearing his tortured confession tied Layla in knots, and since she wasn't as good as he was about controlling the waterworks, her tears quickly spilled over. “There has to be a way, Quin. We have to find a way to end this. I don't like living this way. Always afraid. Always hiding.”

Quin quickly dried her tears. Then he tucked her face into his neck and looked at the others. His eyes went from one pair to the next, waiting for someone to object to what he was about to do.

After several silent seconds, Serafin stood and walked behind Daleen, placing his hands on her cheeks as he met Quin’s stare. “We'll figure out a way.”

Quin closed his eyes and laid his head back, his body heavy like lead, his lungs struggling under the weight of trepidation, the weight of all those who’d line up in front of a firing squad for him and his angel – the weight he’d carry until his dying day.

Layla pulled her face from his neck and looked around, noting everyone’s auras and expressions while putting them together with Serafin’s agreement, and when comprehension slapped her, it also nudged her gag reflexes. “No,” she blurted, scowling at her grandpa. “We'll not ask people to die for us. That's not an option. Quin and I will handle this. No one else.”

She turned away so they’d know the topic wasn’t up for discussion, and when she saw Quin's disparaging aura, her stomach rolled. She snuggled into his chest and drifted her lips across the tight tendons in his neck, and he wrapped his fingers in her hair, covering her back with solid arms just the way she liked it.

“You're not asking,” Serafin replied, “and this isn't just an option. It's the only option. If you face them, we’ll face them. That's how it's going to work.”

Layla stopped moving her lips along Quin's neck, but she didn't look up. “I don't want you to. I don't even want Quin and I facing them, so if you throw yourself into the mix, it just makes things harder.” She straightened and raised a suspicious eyebrow at her grandpa. “Are you just saying this so I'll reconsider my decision not to hide?”

Daleen’s mouth fell open as she grasped her heart. “Of course not, Layla. We understand why you don't want to hide, and we don't want you to go.”

Layla's gaze softened and saddened as her grandma squeezed her eyes shut and hugged Serafin's arm. Daleen had always been a rock and was usually the first to suck it up and move beyond her grief. But at the moment, she was struggling, and Layla hadn’t seen her this way since watching Aedan and Rhosewen’s memories.

Taking a shaky breath, Daleen opened her eyes and met Layla’s stare. “The reason we supported Aedan and Rhosewen's departure into hiding was for your protection, Layla. We didn't want them to leave, but there was an innocent and precious life on the line, so that's what had to happen. If things had been different and Rhosewen hadn't gotten pregnant, they would have stayed and faced the Unforgivables, and we would have faced the evil with our children. We want you to stay, darling, and if that's what you want, we'll support you every step of the way, which includes any you take toward the Unforgivables. We’d be devastated if we lost you to them, so we're not going to sit by and watch when there are ways we can help. We're only doing what we would have done two decades ago had it not been for you. Your existence has given us an extra twenty-one years to enjoy our lives, and if we must sacrifice those lives to give you a better chance, that's what we'll do. We owe them to you.”

Layla's face flexed as her lips trembled. “You don't.”

Morrigan pulled away from Caitrin's hug and rapidly blinked away tears. “What do you think your mom and dad would ask of us if they were here?”

“That's not fair,” Layla squeaked.

“It's the truth,” Caitrin returned. “If Rhosewen and Aedan could speak to us, they’d tell us to do whatever we could to protect you and give you the best possible chance at a happy life. That’s what we’re going to do, and it shouldn't come as a big surprise.”

He was right. Layla should have known they wouldn’t let her do this alone. She looked at Quin, who still had his eyes closed. Why wasn't he alert and responding to this discussion? “What do you think of all this?” she asked, shriller than she'd meant to.

His eyes popped open, and his heart beat faster as he slid a hand to the nape of her neck. “We can't face them alone and keep our lives, Layla. We don't stand a chance, and I'm not prepared to watch you die, so I'm going to accept all the help I can get.” He paused and took a labored breath. “You might find it selfish of me, and that's fine. You're too kindhearted to accept the help, so I'll do it, and the guilt can rest on my shoulders. That's exactly how I want it.”

Backed into a corner, Layla stupidly stared at him, her determination to live by her own rules draining away. Hopelessness flooded in, swirling into a familiar void, one she hadn’t suffered in weeks, and she began resigning herself and her hero to a half-life – a life full of love and magic, but empty of family to share it with.

She sank into Quin's chest as she concealed her aura. “Fine. Let's go. Start planning and we'll leave. We’ll hide until Agro dies of old age. Then we'll come back until the next evil person comes along.” Her throat tightened, which was weird, because the rest of her body was numb. Despair and loss acting like Novocaine against hurt and anger. She touched her neck, willing her vocal cords to relax.  “Where do you want to go? Think we can still take Vegas by storm?”

When she yanked her sad aura from Quin’s sight, she yanked the air from his lungs, and he realized there was only one choice. Watching his angel suffer in life wouldn’t be much better than watching her life drain away. He couldn’t acquire satisfaction if he wasn't satisfying her, and while she may find contentment in hiding, she wouldn't be able to reach the level of happiness that made her shine like a star. He’d be lucky to catch rare glimpses of the woman who made his heart soar.

His path was clear now… terrifying, but clear.

He pulled her closer, wanting to carry her back to dreamland where she could forget about the heartbreak and stress plaguing her life. “Layla Love.”

“Yeah, Vegas probably isn't a good idea. Maybe somewhere with less people. Karena has a computer downstairs. We'll do some research on the internet.”

“Please let me see your aura, angel.”

“No.”

The flat refusal felt like a dagger to his heart, but she didn’t notice the sharp edge on her tone and kept brainstorming.

“I don't want to go back to the Bible belt, so that's out of the question. I guess somewhere along the Gulf of Mexico might be okay, but the humidity’s hell on my hair. I don't know. What do you think? Anywhere you want to live that's not swarming with covens? Maybe a cave on a distant mountain top…”

Quin took a deep breath and looked at his dad – a man who never failed to give him good advice. What Quin was about to do would be a first for him, and he needed to know he wasn’t crazy for doing it.

Able to read his son without a mind-search, Kemble gave a sad nod, and Quin looked back down, wondering if he was strong enough to follow through.

“How about some input?” Layla mumbled, her voice monotone. “Where do you want to live?”

He didn’t answer, but returned his gaze to his parents as he sent them a mental message. 'I'm sorry it has to be like this.'

Cordelia shook her head while touching her heart, but it was Kemble who responded. 'We live for you, son. You and Layla. This is a sacrifice we're prepared to make.'

“Quin,” Layla demanded, scowling up at him.

He met her stare, struggling to endure the twisting of his stomach and the cracking of his heart. This was the biggest decision he'd ever made, and a lot of lives could be lost as a result. Steeling his nerve, he finally gave his terrifying reply. “We're not leaving.”

“Yeah we are,” she disagreed. “I'm not going to do anything to Agro, and neither is anyone else. We can't stay and hide from him, because I'm not going to watch him destroy my family while I remain out of sight. Nor am I going to stand there and face him while my family falls around me, so only one option remains. We'll show our faces somewhere far away to get him out of Oregon. Then we'll hide. That's the only way to keep everyone safe, so that's what we’ll do.”

Quin braced himself. “No, Layla. We're staying, and when it’s time to face Agro, we'll do it with allies.”

She straightened, finding the energy she lacked in her depressed state. “Why are you fighting me on this? You wanted me to hide, and I know you don't want your family hurt.”

He kept his voice even and undeterred. “I'm not fighting you. The decision has been made. I want to protect you from the danger, but not at the price of your happiness. And no, I don't want my family hurt, but walking into the lion's den alone is certain death. That leaves one option. It's a sad choice and a hard one to accept, but you're going to have to figure out how, because I've made up my mind. As long as we have people who are willing to help, we'll stay and face our enemy.”

“I'm okay with hiding,” she argued, but with little conviction. “I'll have you with me and that's all I need. I'll adjust to a life in hiding fine. I'm flexible. I can be happy, Quin.”

“You're lying, Layla, but it doesn't matter, because this is non-negotiable.”

Her eyebrows furrowed as she leaned back. “What do you mean it’s non-negotiable?”

He hesitated for a short moment then cursed himself for doing so. “It’s not up for debate. I've made up my mind, and I'm not going to change it.”

“That's not how it works, Quin.”

“That's how it's working this time, Layla.”

She took a deep breath and pushed her shoulders back. “You can't force me to do this.”

His jaw tightened as he stared into her beautiful and angry eyes. “Are you going to leave without me?”

Her mouth dropped open, but she quickly closed it, her eyes narrowing as she icily whispered. “I'm not asking people to die for me.”

“You're right.” He knew what was coming, so he reluctantly loosened his hold. “You're not, but I am.”

“But... You can't... This isn't...” Her face turned red as she looked for an escape, but there wasn’t one. She would never leave him. He knew it, and she knew it, so threats would be useless and immature.

Layla’s nostrils flared as her lungs burned, and she clenched her fists, digging nails into her palms. The fact that he could control her was nothing new. A week had passed since she realized he had the power to do what he wanted when he wanted to do it. But the fact that he was willing to use that power to strip away hers was something new, and it pissed her off. He'd made her weak and helpless, everything she was tired of being. Blah!

Soaring from his lap, she flew into the master bedroom and magically slammed the door.

Quin watched her go, and it felt like she'd taken half of him with her. He was riddled with holes that only her touch and forgiveness would fill, and it left him drained of energy and confidence. He ran a hand down his face then looked at his dad. “She didn't like that.”

Kemble sympathetically shrugged. “It's for her own good. She’d never accept help, no matter how badly she wants to stay.” He paused, sadly searching the air around his son. Then he bowed his head. “It's the best solution, Quinlan.”

Quin wasn't so sure and feared his decision would haunt him in more ways than one. He stood while glancing at the bedroom door. Then he looked to Serafin and Caitrin. “We need to figure this out, and we need to do it quickly. The eight of us are strong, but it's not enough, and I won't let anyone march to certain death. We need more help, but the guilt is heavy enough without involving innocent bystanders, so let’s make a list of people with personal vendettas against the Unforgivables. Maybe some of them harbor a death wish and would jump at a chance to fight. We need volunteers, trustworthy volunteers. If they're shady, we don't want them around. Oh, and we need a place to practice – an open, fire-safe area much bigger than our lawn. Please put all your resources to work on this right away. If we want to survive, we need help. Layla and I will be home later this evening.” He turned and headed for his angry angel, but paused with this hand on the doorknob, the rhythm of his wounded heart resounding in his ears. “See you guys after a while.”

And with a deep breath, he opened the door.

 

Chapter 5

 

When Layla heard Quin enter the room, she buried her face further in her pillow and concealed her aura, barely resisting the urge to angrily kick the bed.

Blah! She'd just released the emotions. Now the damn things had to be sucked back in. Hiding her aura ate at her already marred insides, and she just wanted to be alone so she could let it go and wallow in her grief.

Quin's hand flew to his heart when she hid the lovely yet haunted haze, and he yearned to pull her into his arms, force her to take all her frustrations out on him. But he didn't sit or lie down when he reached the side of the bed. He just watched her tense form while clutching his aching chest.

“I need some time,” she mumbled.

Her voice was muffled by grief and cotton, but he clearly sensed her anger and betrayal. “Okay,” he agreed, summoning a chair and sitting beside the bed.

“Alone,” she huffed.

He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, thankful he no longer had to stay stern. It had been beyond difficult to speak to her so severely when all he wanted to do was whisper reassuring words in her ear. “I understand why you're angry with me, Layla, but I won't let you push me away. Take all the time you need. I'm staying right here.”

She balled her hands into fists. “Damn it, Quin, stop making me feel weak.”

With that, his control broke and he floated to the spot beside her. She wiggled away the moment he landed, and his entire body cringed as his stomach churned. “Please don't move away from me.”

“Oh you're asking now? I thought you'd moved on to demanding.”

Her words were salt in his wounds. “Layla.”

“What?”

“It's not like that.”

“That's exactly what it's like.”

“I had to make a decision, so I made it. I don't want to control you. It broke my heart to force you into that decision, but I didn't have a choice.”

“You didn't have a choice? I was the one left powerless.”

“You're not powerless,” he whispered, running his hand an inch over her hair. Her uncanny power over him made it damn near impossible for him to keep his distance.

“That's how I feel,” she snapped. “It's like I'm one of those women who let their husbands control them. I have no leverage and no guts.”

“That's enough,” he returned, rolling her over to face him. “Don't compare me to men like that and don't compare yourself to those women.”

Her bloodshot eyes narrowed. “I guess we're back to a demand and obey relationship.”

Quin was shocked by the way she was treating him, but he couldn't blame her. She was under too much stress to soundly deal with the overwhelming emotions clogging her insides. “I know you're angry,” he replied, dialing down the heat, “and I understand why, but you know that's not how our relationship works. I have no desire to control the women in my life…”

“Only when it’s necessary,” she interrupted. Then she rolled over and buried her face.

“Don't you understand why?” he asked, gripping the blankets so he wouldn't grip her.

“I do understand why,” she conceded, “but I still can't believe you used our relationship like you did. You have complete power over me, Quin. You could lift me up or tear me down in a heartbeat. I'm at your mercy at all times. I was okay with that, because I just knew you’d never misuse the authority you have over me. But you did, like it was no big deal. You looked at me and wielded that power like a sword, slicing away my choice in the matter. I do understand why you did it, but I don't understand how you could do it like that, and it hurts me you find it so necessary and easy to use that sword against me. It shakes my confidence and my faith in our relationship.”

Panic bubbled in his stomach, quickly rising to his chest, and he pulled her around, holding her against him so she couldn't roll away. “No, Layla. Please don't say those things. I’ll never tear you down. Ever. Your opinion means everything to me. You mean everything to me, and I hated using our relationship against you.”

Tears slipped from her lids as she attempted to move away from him, but he held tight. “Just let me go, Quin.”

“No.”

“I need time.”

“Take your time, but I'm not letting go.”

“Damn it, Quin. You're not the boss of me.”

“You're absolutely right.”

She stopped struggling, but she stayed rigid as she looked him in the eye. “Let – go.”

He solidly met her stare, his heart in his throat. “No.”

Her anger wavered, exposing her sorrow, and her lashes fell as her body shook. “Why won't you let me be?”

“Because I'm selfish and I need you. Be as angry as you want with me, Layla. You're welcome to scream and kick and curse, but I'm not letting go. I hate the way I've made you feel, and if I walk out of here, I'll go crazy. So be mad, but please don't put me through that.”

She sobbed, and he pressed his lips to hers. “Please, love, I know you're mad, but I need you.”

Her flexed muscles finally relaxed, and he quickly curled her into a ball and moved her to his chest. Once she was tucked in, he firmly wrapped his arms around her body and buried his face in her hair, kissing between deep breaths.

Layla had surrendered yet again, but it wasn't like the time before. Yes, she still felt weak, but the shame of subservience wasn't there with this concession. Before, he'd sternly told her exactly how it would be while making it clear she had no choice, but this time, his demands came with heartfelt pleas and loving caresses. “Damn it, Quin. I have no leverage, and I don't like the way it feels.”

“You have as much leverage as I do, and I'm not using mine right now.”

“Yes you are.”

“I'm not.”

“You don't see it?”

“Would you rather I not tell you what I need from you?”

Her frustration paused as his words sank in. Then the frustration returned. “No. I would not prefer that.”

“I did misuse your devotion earlier,” he admitted, “and I'm sorry. Maybe I should have gone about it differently. But this right here...” He squeezed tighter. “...this is something I need right now, and I don't consider this using my power against you.” He rubbed his face in her hair, kissing her head again. “I know you're hurting, and you can be mad at me, but I don't believe you really want to be mad all by yourself, so please let me hold you while you tell me how angry you are, and I tell you how sorry I am.”

She huffed. Not because he was making her angry, but because he was making sense. The last thing she wanted was to move away from the most heavenly spot in the world. It would make her feel lonely and empty as well as sad and afraid. She swallowed the bitter taste of defeat. Then she released her aura and moved her hands to her face, catching a flood of tears.

Quin released a heavy sigh when her aura flowed free, and he let her cry in silence for a long time. When her sobs turned to hiccups, he kissed her head and rubbed her back. “I'm sorry it has to be like this, love, and I'm sorry I handled the situation unfairly, but this is our best chance.”

“What about everyone else, Quin? What about their chance?”

“They want us to stay as much as we want to stay, and they're prepared to do whatever they can to make our stay safe. It's what they want, Layla. We're giving them what they want.”

“And possibly taking their lives in return.”

“We're going to do everything we can to keep that from happening.”

“It's unfair.”

“Yes.”

“It's selfish.”

“Yes.”

“And it's all on my shoulders.”

“No,” he disagreed, tightening his hold. “The blame rests on my shoulders. I made it so when I broke your heart.”

Layla wiped her tears and stared at his chest, contemplating that last part. He'd made his demands intending to completely relieve her of guilt while giving her exactly what she wanted but wouldn't take. Damn it. Every bit of his demand was for her sake and her sake alone, even the fierceness with which it had been delivered, which, ultimately, was the fire to her fuse.

Pressing her palms flat against his stomach, she touched her cheek to his heart. “What if I can convince you I could be happy hiding?”

“You can't. I’d know you're lying.”

“I can be happy, Quin. I'll stay just like this all the time, tucked away in my personal heaven until the day I die.”

“No, Layla.”

“You don't believe me?”

“I do believe you're happy when you're in my arms, but I also know how much it would hurt you to leave our family. I saw it, Layla. I felt it. Your spirit was draining away right before my eyes, and I can't let that happen. You're a happy person. That's one of my favorite things about you, and there's no doubt in my mind that if I were to take you away from here, you’d change. I don't want despair changing you. I don't want you to lose the personality traits that make you so special, beautiful and bright.”

She slowly rubbed her face back and forth across his warm chest, trying to find the optimism that had slipped from her grip. “How will we ever succeed, Quin? I don't want to watch everyone die. I don't want to watch you die.”

“I know, love, but we won’t face him without a fighting chance. This isn't about letting Agro find you anymore. This is about us setting him up for a fall. Hopefully his patience will hold out until we can come up with a plan.”

“You still have hope?”

“As long as I have you.”

“I thought you were lacking it.”

“Doing this by ourselves would have been suicide, but we're not alone now.” He hugged her close. Then he pulled her up his body, stroking her moist cheek as he searched her eyes. “Is this okay?”

He'd stolen her forgiveness the moment he touched her, so she nodded her agreement while massaging the tight tendons in his neck and shoulder.

His consoled sigh sent heat across her nose as he kissed it, but his solaced expression didn't last. He closed his eyes, his face flexing as he spoke in a strained voice. “You have to understand something, Layla.” He swallowed and found her stare. “Even though I have hope and we have help, there's a solid chance we'll die when we face Agro.”

A tear slipped from the corner of her eye, and he wiped it away before going on. “I've embraced the odds. They terrify me and weigh heavy on my heart, but unless we resort ourselves to an unfulfilled life far away from here, we're stuck with the possibility of striking out. You've made it clear you’d rather die than give up our life here, so we'll take the chance and let the dice roll, just like you said.”

A few more tears rolled from her lids at the prospect of their death, and this time he kissed them away. “We have a lot to accomplish in a small amount of time, my love, and it may be the only time we have left on earth, so I have a favor to ask, and if I have to, I'll beg on my hands and knees to make it so.”

Like he would have to. “What is it you want?”

“You,” he answered. Then he kissed her nose, cheeks, eyelids, and lips. “Every free moment we get, I want you in my arms. I want us to hold and love each other like there's no tomorrow, and I want to treasure each moment like it's our last. If we have to die, I want to die knowing I held the most amazing woman in the world the way she deserved to be held, that I showed her how much I love and need her, and that I’m happier than I’ve ever been when I’m with her. I want to spend the rest of our lives, no matter how short they may be, showing you these things while touching your soul and letting you touch mine.” He kissed away more tears then found her eyes again. “Will you please let me do that, Layla? It's all I want. It's all I need to make everything worth it. If you’ll give me this, I’ll fight every day for the rest of my life.”

His sweet and sincere request grabbed her heartstrings and yanked, leaving her a vulnerable ball of raging emotions. Tears burst forth as sobs exploded from her chest, and she burrowed into him, her body quaking as love and sadness grasped it and fiercely shook. Her fingers clawed at him, attempting to pull him closer, unconcerned with anything besides his feel and his flesh and the man beneath its surface. She wanted to melt into him. She wanted to be a part of him. She wanted to be securely nestled within him, right next to his heart.

She flattened her palms on his pecs, her cheek pressed against his neck, her lips perched on his shoulder. Then she mentally urged his soul to touch her, attempting to draw his love and devotion and strength and sincerity to the surface of his skin. She just wanted to feel it.

He gasped, jolting as her magic clutched his insides and pulled. Then he exhaled hugely when the force reached the surface of his skin and collided with hers. The atmosphere flashed, and the air filled with heat, a peaceful cocoon delivering magical morphine straight into her pores. This was exactly what she wanted… what she needed. It felt like every wonderful thing he'd ever said to her and done for her had been woven into a blanket that was now wrapped around her body, delivering much needed love, security and hope. It felt like she was nestled in his soul, right next to his heart, right where she wanted to be.

She sighed his name. Then she selfishly held onto the feeling for over a minute before letting the tangible emotions slip back into his body.

“How did you do that?” he breathlessly asked.

“I shouldn't have, Quin. I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?”

“No,” he assured, pulling her face from his neck. “How did you do that?”

“I don't know. I just did.”

“Do you know what that was?”

She bit her lip then guiltily whispered. “Your soul?” As she said the words aloud, the absurdity and presumptuousness of her actions sank in, and she panicked. “I'm so sorry, Quin. I should never mess with things like that…”

He put a finger to her lips and stopped her babbling. “It was my soul,” he whispered, scanning the air around him. Then he returned his gaze to hers. “And do you know what I saw?”

“You saw something?”

“Yes,” he confirmed, a grin stretching between deep dimples. “I saw my aura.”

“You what?” she asked, looking at the bright haze around him. “You saw your aura?”

He took her cheeks and gave her a happy kiss. “Yes, my perfect, beautiful, amazing angel, I saw my aura.”

The magic left Layla feeling sedate, and his joy was contagious, so her smile came naturally. “I told you it's magnificent.”

“It is magnificent. And do you know why?”

“Why?”

“Because of you. Once I realized what I was looking at, I saw you. You're all over my aura, and you make it shine beautifully.”

“It's your heart and soul, Quin, not mine.”

“You're wrong. They are yours. I just saw visual proof of that.”

Her throat tightened as her heart swelled. “If you keep saying things like that, you're going to make me lose it again. I can’t seem to control my emotions.”

“Stop trying. I want to see them. I want to see everything about you. Remember? Live every second like it's our last. That's what I want.”

She slid her hand from his chest to his cheek. “That's what I want, too, Quin. No more wasted moments.”

“You're not going to make me beg?” he asked, flashing a grin.

She guiltily looked down as she quietly responded. “That would be a wasted moment.”

“Hey,” he whispered, and her thick lashes fluttered up, revealing the deep, emerald eyes that, on so many unpredictable occasions, left him breathless.

“Hey back.”

His lungs found air again, and he pulled a curl to his nose, sweetening the oxygen. “Even if I die tomorrow, I'll be able to say I was a lucky man; that I lived a blessed life where my most amazing dreams came true. You've made my life breathtakingly beautiful and uniquely divine, and no matter how this turns out, I'll never regret one second I've had with you. Eleven days is short, but it's been long enough for you to provide me with more happiness than most people discover in a lifetime. For that, I owe you my heart and soul, and they're yours.”

More tears slipped from her lids, and he quickly kissed them away while working his fingers into her hair. With her cheeks momentarily dry, he moved his lips to hers, and she could feel herself getting sucked in, just as she could feel herself being pulled back. She was halfway between the dark state-of-mind their troubles generated, and the glorious peace-of-mind their relationship provided. If someone stood in her brain, they could look to the left and see a black abyss, then look to the right and see a bright and beautiful haze.

Layla turned toward the light, snapping the chains stretching from the dark while moving toward the silver wisps sweetly summoning her. No wasted moments. There was still so much she wanted to do with him, so much she wanted to show and tell him; sides of him she wanted to see and words she wanted to hear. There were parts of him she had yet to touch, and ways he had yet to touch her.

She closed her eyes, turning her intense focus to the sensations produced by contact with him – the blood pulsing her pout each time his lips brushed hers; the twitching at the corners of her mouth each time his tongue lightly licked; the tickling of the nerve-endings around her eyelids when his thumb dried her tears; and the tingles that stretched across her scalp when he gathered her hair in his fist.

She could also feel the rhythm of her heartbeat – solid and steady; and her breathing – slow and deep. And by expanding her focus, she could feel her skin thrumming at her pulse points, and the air whispering across her feet. She'd managed to search out all the sensations her body was undergoing and could concentrate on all of them at once. She'd heard of others achieving a similar state-of-mind through meditation, but this was the first time she’d ever experienced such intense self-awareness.

Keeping the feel of her body in the forefront of her mind, she vanished her robe then did the same with his shorts. When her skin was exposed to the air, when it should have chilled, her heart beat hard, and hot blood rushed her veins, warming and stimulating her flesh.

She blindly found his hand then drifted his fingertips down her neck, reveling in the tingles and goose bumps sprouting along the trail. As she pulled his hand lower, a chill swept across her shoulders and shot down her spine, and she shuddered from head to toe.

His heavenly appendages were between her breasts, warm and pliable, so she took his forefinger and brushed it across one of her nipples. The flesh puckered beneath his compliant touch, and her breathing deepened as she provided her other nipple with the same treatment. She slid his fingers lower, quivering when they flitted across her abdomen. Then she formed her hand to the back of his and slipped it between her thighs.

Her breathing was no longer slow, but it remained deep, and her heartbeat had gone from solid and steady to powerful and sporadic. He wasn't kissing her, but his parted lips touched hers as she breathed into his mouth, compelling his fingers to press and caress her in all the right places.

If ever there was a heaven on earth, Quin was in it, his body throbbing as he watched his angel’s expression, inhaled her sweet breath, and touched her sultry sex. It was difficult – keeping his fingers relaxed as she manipulated them to her pleasure. He itched to do things his own way, explore more territory while staking claims on more prosperous realms. But to see and feel her leave her troubles behind using his hand as transportation merited more than mere willpower and patience. He’d sell his soul to be at the center of all her experiments, to remain her mode of transportation, so he remained motionless, his heart thundering as his lungs swelled.

Her back arched, her alert nipples entertaining his chest as she took his fingers in both hands and opened her thighs, exposing herself to full discovery.

He squeezed his eyes shut, swallowing hard while willing his hand to stay limp in hers. Then he returned his gaze to her face. Her expressions and aura were beyond stunning as she worked her way up the mountain of pleasure; and each crinkle of her nose, tweak of her eyebrows, and flutter of her lashes sent an extra burst of need down his spine to his groin. She was almost to the top. He could see it and feel it.

She sharply inhaled and shifted her hips forward, sliding two of his fingers inside while adding pressure against his palm, and he severed his restraint, grasping her outside and in. Her fingers stretched as her palms pressed, and a rapturous hum rolled from her tongue, vibrated across his starving lips.

She jolted before going limp, and he relaxed his hand, giving her muscles a break. But as soon as her blood slowed, calming the rapid pulse he could so easily and erotically feel, he began pushing her back up the mountain.

Layla didn’t realize his intent at first, as her insides were flooded with sensations and his touch was so tender, but when she expected his fingers to withdraw, yet they advanced, her eyes popped open. He grinned, humored by her shock and happy to have the upper hand, but she wasn’t going to yield so easily.

Keeping her eyes on his, she reached for his stomach, then followed the ridged slant of his flexed abdomen. When she found what she was looking for, she found it hard, and she firmly grasped him with both hands while curling her tongue around his.

She'd meant to get a reaction out of him, to drain his ever present control, but she didn’t expect what happened next. His chest rumbled, his fingers flexed and curled inside her, and his magic clutched her body, supporting her weight as he lifted her from the bed and pressed her against the wall.

She flashed her gaze from the ceiling a few feet above to the bed several feet below. Then she found his confident stare as his mouth came down on hers and his fingers abandoned her body. His erection throbbed in her hands, daring her to let go, and the emptiness left by his fingers joined in the chorus.

She relinquished her grip, squeezing his shoulders instead, and he grasped the back of her thighs, gliding sensitive skin over his arousal as he lifted her up and spread her open. His lips skimmed her jaw as he positioned himself at her entrance. Then he bit her earlobe as he pushed hard into her body.

Layla screamed, rocked by a painful yet pleasing jolt. He’d never filled her so forcefully and quickly… so roughly, and somewhere in the back of her swirling mind she realized this was what she’d get when she attempted to play games with him.

He pulled away so she could fill her lungs, but they emptied again when he powerfully moved back inside. She clamped her teeth together, caught in a riptide of pleasure and pain as he grinded inside her, forcing her to conform to his girth. Then he tilted his head back, letting the thunder in his chest resound his pleasure throughout the room.

She breathlessly watched his flexed neck and jaw, her lips quivering as she ached and pulsed around him. Then he met her gaze and lifted her legs higher, moving between them with impassioned purpose.

Her hands slipped from his shoulders and slapped the wall, and her eyes rolled back as he pushed her to the edge. Leaving her left leg trembling around his waist, he took her jaw. Then he forced her to look at him as he shoved her off the cliff. She should have been embarrassed – screaming his name as she looked him right in the eye, but his reverent expression merely fueled her orgasm.

Drifting his thumb across her lips, he smiled and moved in for a kiss, and though she’d been the one to finish, she got the sense he’d won. In one of the most honest exchanges they’d shared, she’d given up a bigger piece of herself than he had; it was her who had surrendered control and submitted to the pleasure and the pain it entailed… submitted to him. And it was obvious, now, that this was the way it would always be. He may let her win outside the bedroom, but in this, he’d always have the upper hand. She wondered if he’d groomed her this way, taking things painstakingly slow so she’d understand he set the pace, that he was the authority on the subject, not her. Then she realized she didn’t care. Submitting to his carnal desires was the most amazing feeling in the world.

His lips toyed with hers as his eyes glinted, and she knew he was aware of her comprehension as well as her acceptance. And she found immense pleasure in giving him what he wanted. About damn time she had a way to tip the scales.

His lips left hers. Then he pulled her to his chest and leaned back in mid-air, letting her rest on his torso. She twitched, he throbbed, and her quivering body ached for more. She kissed one solid pec, then the other. Then she slid her tongue over his heart while dragging her palms down his tight sides.

He grasped her butt in both hands, lifting it high enough to catch a glimpse, and as he slowly brought her back down, her body tightened and curled, dragging her lips and nose down his stomach. She felt like she’d explode should the tension break, so she made herself relax and flipped up. Gravity forced her to take everything he had to offer, and she arched as a thrill shot through her core.

He groaned his approval, and she raised her head, tingling from head to toe as she stared down at him – his magnificent body suspended in mid-air; his warm eyes observing every inch of her unveiled and fluctuating flesh; deep dimples flickering outside parted lips curved with content. She took a mental snapshot, tucking the extraordinary image away for later. Then she left his gaze and rolled against him, braced by magic and his strong hands.

When his aura swelled around her, his shaft swelled inside her, and she raised up, holding them both hostage on the brink of ecstasy. His fingers dipped into her hips as a rumble rolled in his diaphragm, and the next time she exhaled, she bore down on him, her body tight and tingly as she slipped over the edge. Her breasts heaved as she reached behind her and clutched his hard thighs, and he stretched, his satisfied growl surging loud and clear from his chest.

They hovered that way for several heavenly minutes, slightly curved over the bed, wavering within their indulged and swollen auras – he like an unstrung bow, and her a beautifully bent arrow frozen upon its magical release.

When she smoothly flipped forward and rested her chest to his, he descended to the bed, hugging her close while burying his face in her hair. They melted into the blankets, and somehow, the outside world stayed quiet, letting them linger in the bliss. Life was perfect, if only for a while.

They held on to the sublime feeling as long as they could, drowning in a sea of transcendental tranquility, and when the unease tried to creep back in, he rolled her onto her back and returned her to their erotic dreamland.

It was amazing – the stamina he had with her. Wizards were naturally able to keep up in a way hexless men only dream about, but it had never been like this. Never without breaks and never without the use of focus, willpower and magic. That, however, had changed. A new talent had been awakened by his angel, so they stayed wrapped around each other for hours, pausing only to absorb the rush and catch their breaths. He used magic to heal their bodies, soothing tender areas inside and out, and so their pleasure continued well into the evening.

They eventually lost count of their orgasms, but they didn’t care and would have kept going if her stomach hadn’t growled. She giggled into his chest, and he smiled as he wrapped her in a tight hug. “Layla, my love, you are, without a doubt, the most amazing woman in the world.”

She rubbed her face over his heart, tasting him as her lips throbbed with its beats. Then she gave his chest a kiss and smiled at him. “I think we've put Karena's best room to good use. What do you think?”

He laughed as he brushed her hair from her face and took her cheek. “I doubt this room has ever seen anything like us, and it won't again until we return.”

“We'll have to hurry back then. A room like this should get its fair share.”

“I agree, and we will come back. Again and again.”

She walked her fingers up his chest and neck. Then she skipped them to his lips. “I look forward to showing our bedroom what we can do.”

“Then we'll have to show it soon.” He tightened his grip. Then he pulled himself from her body while bringing her face closer to her his. “Are you ready to go home, angel?”

“You are my home, Quin.”

“You make me lighter than air when you say things like that,” he whispered, working tangles out of her curls.

Her stomach growled again, and he wrapped one arm around her waist, running a hand down her rumbling tummy. “I better feed you, my love. I can't have you getting weak on me.”

“We'll feed each other.”

“Now that sounds like a good plan. I'll have to find some particularly messy food so when I accidentally miss your mouth, I can lick it off your chest.”

She giggled and wrapped her fingers in his hair. Then she buried his face in her breasts. “What makes you think you need an excuse to lick my chest?”

He filled his mouth with her, gently kneading her nipple between his tongue and the roof of his mouth. Then he let it slip away before giving it one more lick. “It's tasty, but it won't fill our stomachs with anything more substantial than flutters.”

“To quote the man of my dreams, I'm okay with that.”

“Well I'm not okay with letting my angel starve.”  

“Okay. We'll go home and find some messy food, then eat it off each other's naked bodies. That way our hunger will be satisfied in more ways than one.”

“That's a brilliant plan, but I doubt my hunger for you will ever be satisfied.”

“Good, because I don't want to have to rub food all over myself to get your mouth on me.” She paused and pulled herself tighter against him. “But I would if that's what it took. I’d make a menu and lay it by the bed. Then every time you got hungry, I’d take your order and serve it up on a naked platter.”

“Mmm...” he murmured, rolling her onto her back. Then he lowered his mouth to the pulse point at her throat, tasting it as he whispered.  “Sounds like fine dining to me.”