Page 3 of Crimson Skies

The makeshift Molotov cocktail the bartender had made in the milliseconds since he’d turned his back on them froze within a sphere of pale magic and dark currents. He took a step back, the flames hovering above his fingers brightening.

The juniper scent of mage magic wafted faintly around Strickland as he observed the man glaring at them. “That’s not a nice way to say hello, Santiago.”

The director had drawn his staff.

Santiago Ortega sneered. “Yeah, well, it doesn’t look like you’re here to reminisce about old times,Francis.”

Morgan doused the fire inside the whiskey bottle with a flick of his fingers. The sting of burning alcohol filled his nostrils as he studied Ortega. “Are you certain this guy was a Level Two mage when you last met him?”

“Yes,” Strickland replied confidently.

Morgan frowned and put the bottle on the bar. “I don’t know. Maybe his skills have slipped. Even a Dryad child could have stopped—”

Ortega smirked. The diner trembled.

Morgan cursed. The floor rippled underneath him, upending him from his seat. Fire balls sailed across the counter as he caught his balance. He deflected the attack with a shield of dark wind.

Ortega dove through the swing doors behind the bar.

Morgan scowled, vaulted over the counter, and went after him.

“Don’t hurt him,” Strickland warned.

“I won’t if he cooperates!”

Morgan dashed inside a dank kitchen. A guy in a dirty apron stared at him, knife held aloft above a cabbage on a greasy chopping board, a cigarette dangling from his nicotine-stained lips. Ortega had already exited the diner through a back door.

Morgan narrowed his eyes.That weasel sure is fast!

A balmy breeze danced across him when he emerged into the alley behind the building. It brought with it the tangy smell of the sea and a trace of juniper.

It was thanks to his soul bond with Cassius that he’d evolved the ability to pick up on the scents that characterized the cores of magic users. His newly acquired skill had become even stronger after Cassius had revived him with the Golden Apple of Resurrection, enabling him to identify even the powerful humans who could mask their magic.

His belly clenched on a wave of desire.

It wasn’t the only thing that had gotten stronger since his resurrection.

Sex with Cassius had always been the most incredible thing he’d ever experienced. It was now so mind-blowingly good it was a miracle either of them remained conscious during the act.

The vision of how Cassius had looked the last time Morgan had been inside him had him wishing he’d never agreed to this mission.

Cassius’s flushed face and glazed eyes. The way he’d scored Morgan’s back with his nails and locked his strong legs around his hips as Morgan claimed him. How tightly his insides had squeezed Morgan’s cock as he’d impaled him over and over again. His lustful moans and cries as Morgan made him crest peak after dizzying peak of pleasure.

All of it had Morgan’s jeans growing uncomfortably tight.

Fuck! I really want to see him right now. I should wrap this up and join him in New York.

He followed Ortega’s magic onto the busy strip, determined to get this mission over and done with. A flash of movement drew his eyes as he slowed amidst the bustling crowd.

The Columbian mage was slipping through a group of revelers to his right.

Morgan gave chase, his divine powers scattering the people in his path with a gust of wind that drew surprised cries. There was some kind of music festival going on where the strip gave way to the beach.

Looks like the bastard’s trying to lose me in there!

Ortega darted inside the throng packing the area in front of a platform. Morgan entered the press of bodies seconds after him. He swore as he was jostled by the tourists and locals dancing to the band playing on stage. By the time he made it to where he’d last glimpsed Ortega, he’d lost sight of the mage.

Morgan’s feet sank into hot sand as he scanned the shoreline.

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