Page 45 of Runaway Magic
“I felt good.”
“And then you put the armor on.”
Comprehension flashed on Fourteen’s face as the door slammed open, revealing a cowled man surrounded by green fire. In a fluid motion, Fourteen grabbed Cym by the the shirt and jerked him behind him while swinging his gun up to bear on the intruder. The air rippled around them as a spell broke over Fourteen’s shield, and he opened fire.
It took seconds to tear through the intruder’s shield, telling Cym the witch was more proficient at offensive magic. His aunt Stella was an exception in the magic community and had become skilled in more than one form of magic. She could shield as well as she could strike and was a terrifying opponent.
Cym smirked to himself. Not against Fourteen, though.
“Follow me.” Fourteen stepped over the lifeless body in front of them and made a waving motion to Cym with his free hand. Cym saw him pulling a smaller gun out of his bag as he went through the door.
Gingerly, Cym tiptoed around the dead man and tried not to think about what he was doing. He definitely didn’t think about the fact that his soldier had ended the man’s life without a thought, because if he did, he’d have to think about how it had made his dick perk up a little, and that wasn’t something he was prepared to deal with.
Once around the corpse, Cym had to run to catch up to Fourteen. He knew his best hope was to stay inside Fourteen’s shielding until they could get to safety, so when he caught up to him, he twined his fingers in the leather of his jacket and hung on.
It didn’t take long before their assailants began bombarding the stairs with spells instead of them directly. Someone must have taken notes from Stella’s methods.
A horrific shriek of metal pealed behind them, and Cym looked back to see that the landing above had been crushed against the wall as if a giant’s hand had punched it. Then with a loud crunch, the steps under them tilted and threw Cym fully against Fourteen.
Cym clutched desperately at Fourteen’s jacket as the man fought to gain a handhold on the wall next to them before the stairs disintegrated completely. Only one of Fourteen’s hands managed to gain purchase before the stairs dropped out from under them, but it was enough to halt their progress, leaving at least two dozen feet of air between them and the ground.
Something black and tar-like splattered inches from Cym’s face, and he let out a small cry. Cym tried to get closer to Fourteen and the protection of his shield, but the gun Fourteen had slung over one shoulder hit Cym in the face. He yelped and his grasp on Fourteen’s jacket loosened, causing him to slip several inches. His overly abused head throbbed in time with his racing heart.
Even with the sudden pain, it wouldn’t have been as difficult for him to hang on if they both hadn’t been doing their best to avoid skin-on-skin contact. The last thing they needed was that kind of distraction, but it seemed everywhere Cym looked was exposed skin—both of theirs.
Cym’s tank top hadn’t seemed skimpy when he first put it on, but now, when he least wanted exposed skin, it seemed like a glorified crop top. Compounded with that, Fourteen hadn’t had time to pull on a shirt or buckle his jacket all the way closed, and it had gotten rucked up during the fall, now displaying an impressive set of highly sculpted abs and his equally toned lower back.
Fourteen’s jacket slid through Cym’s fingers, dropping him even further. He fought to keep his face from rubbing againstFourteen’s exposed hip. If the situation had been different, Cym would have delighted in the view.
The gods were a bunch of fucking dicks.
Another spell went off, pain shot through Cym’s foot, and he bit back on yet another cry of pain. Scratch that, the gods were one great big heaving bag of dicks. He scrunched his legs up as high as he could, but he continued to slide down.
Cym was considering wrapping his arms around Fourteen’s waistband and hoping for the continued structural integrity of the man’s pants when a gloved hand grabbed his arm and pulled him up.
Fourteen held Cym away from his body at arms-length while holding on to a broken bit of rebar with his other hand, one foot jammed into a small dent in the wall. Cym saw that one of Fourteen’s pockets had a glove hanging out precariously and realized he must have found gloves in one of the nine hundred pockets he had on his jacket and managed to put one on while saving their butts.
How was this man real?
Their only issue now was that with Cym’s porn-tastic tank top and Fourteen’s mostly open jacket, there was no way for Cym to hang on to him and stay within the protection of his shield without some skin contact. If Fourteen was going to get them out of there, he was going to need both of his hands free to do it.
Cym felt Fourteen heave a deep sigh, then he pulled Cym against his body. “Put your arms around my neck.” Fourteen’s breath was hot on his neck and it made him shiver.
A spell struck the wall a few feet over their heads, raining down bits of brick into their hair, and Fourteen wrapped Cym’s body around him monkey-style. He tried to limit their skin exposure, but Cym’s arm brushed Fourteen’s neck, and their chests pressed together. Fourteen shifted so his body was between Cym and their attackers, pressing him against the wall.
Fourteen closed his eyes and took in a shaky breath. A bullet struck the wall inches from his face, and his eyes flew open again, his pupils so wide his eyes appeared black. “Hold on,” he said through gritted teeth and pushed off from the wall.
There was only enough time for Cym to make a short squawking sound in protest before they landed on a pile of unfolded boxes. Fourteen rolled as they landed, making a cage with his arms to protect Cym, and they came to a collective stop as they hit a wall behind a collection of crates.
Every part of Cym’s body was yelling obscenities at him.
“Stay down,” Fourteen hissed in Cym’s ear, and he was on his feet before Cym’s eyes could track the movement. It was as if he hadn’t just taken the full brunt of a fall that could have killed a normal person.
Like hell Cym was staying down.
“You may be trained for this, but this ismyfamily we’re dealing with,” he snapped.
Cym tried to sit up, regardless of what his aching flesh was telling him, but he was hampered by the foot Fourteen planted on his ass to pin him down. What the fuck? Was he just a toy to the man? Just because he was small didn’t mean he couldn’t contribute to the situation.
