Page 29 of Wicked Bonds
And then the magic kicks. I feel it swim up from my gut, energy building until I swear I can see sparks at the edge of my vision. I try to force it down, but it’s not listening.
I grab the edge of the mattress and squeeze until my knuckles go white, while the mark on my arm goes from hot to scalding, and my head spins. I think, for a second, I might actually pass out.
There’s a loud bang, and the world snaps back into focus, and I see a shape as it moves in the doorway.
Soren.
He steps inside without knocking, the door clicking softly shut behind him. There’s no smile this time. His eyes are dark and serious.
“Having trouble?” he says.
I can’t answer. My teeth are chattering, and my hands won’t let go of the mattress. I’m vibrating with adrenaline.
He walks over to sit on the bed next to me.
“Show me,” he says, and before I can refuse, his hand covers mine.
The sensation is instant. My whole body tightens, then relaxes. The magic inside me calms, like someone just flipped a breaker.
He holds my gaze, his face so close I can see the metallic flecks in his eyes. “You’re leaking energy. The wall won’t hold if you’re afraid to use what’s inside.”
“I don’t know how.” I realize I’m panting.
He doesn’t let go. “That’s what I’m here for.”
And then I feel him start to breach my mind.
Never trust a demon, that’s what they say right? I’m sure that’s a saying somewhere, and if it isn’t, then it’s just common sense.
“I thought you said you wouldn’t come back unless I asked,” I spit out between gritted teeth.
“If I waited for permission, I wouldn’t be what I am.” His mouth curves up.
“Go away,” I try.
“I warned you about the feedback,” he says, voice low. “You’re not just leaking energy. You’re broadcasting it.”
“So what?” I snap.
His eyes fix on my mouth, then my throat. “You’re going to burn out if you keep trying to handle it this way. You’re magic, your energy, it’s primal. It’s sexual. You need to embrace your power, not push it down.”
His hand lifts and he brushes a strand of hair from my cheek. The contact is gentle, almost careful. “Or you’ll never get it right.”
Before I can protest, he slips a hand under my shirt at the small of my back. His palm is hot, skin-to-skin, and it knocks the air out of me. The mark on my arm flares. My knees buckle and he presses me back against the desk, pinning me with his hips.
“There,” he murmurs. “Right there. That’s where you hold it.”
He keeps his hand at my back and with his other, he lifts my chin. The pressure is light but firm. “Look at me.”
I do, because there’s no other option. His eyes are pure black now, no whites, no pupils, just an abyss. I can feel the magic start to move, like a reversing falls.
He takes a deep breath, and the whole room goes crooked. “I’m going to show you what it’s supposed to feel like.”
It starts as a tingle at the base of my spine, then a surge up my torso. The sensation is equal parts arousal and terror. I try to fight it, but instead I’m arching into him, gasping as the feedback loop tightens.
He leans in, lips against my ear. “Don’t hold back. Let it run.”
His mouth slides to my throat and I feel the heat of his breath, but he doesn’t kiss me, just hovers there, forcing every cell in my body to scream for contact.
