Page 109 of Wrongfully Magicked
Bones snap loudly in the silence.
When Porter releases his grip, the body thumps to the ground, and he slowly rises to his feet. He steps toward me, only pausing when his boot hits the outer edges of the ring of fire.
I try to kill the flames, except it’s like pouring gasoline on top of a blaze. I push myself upright with shaky limbs, but the muscles in my legs quiver too much to attempt to stand without toppling over.
When my fingers pass over the flames, I marvel that the fire actually feels good, like soaking in a hot bath. The wounds inflicted by the others slowly seal shut, even as I watch, then vanish altogether. I lift my arm, flexing my hand, turning it this way and that.
It doesn’t have a scratch or even a blister on it.
“Here,” Soren says, shoving a scroll against Porter’s chest. Without hesitation, he steps into the flames and boldly strides toward me without a hint of fear. Flames lick at him, crawling up his legs, but he doesn’t burn like the others.
He kneels, then gathers me in his arms and settles me on his lap. “I’ve got you, kitten.”
I peer up at him, relief almost making me giddy. The flames gradually creep back toward me and slip back under my skin, but instead of dying down and going back to sleep, they flare up hotter than ever, searing my insides until it feels like I’m being crushed.
I wrap my arms around myself, curling up to ease the pressure, but agony spreads through every inch of me. I peer up at Soren, barely able to catch my breath. “Something is wrong.”
“Nothing is wrong, kitten.” Soren tightens his hold until his grip is just short of painful, worry turning his eyes nearly silver. With a strained smile, he gently pushes my hair away from my face. “I think you’re finally coming into your demonic powers.”
When it feels like my insides are being lashed by pure fire, I’m unable to hold back a whimper. Eyes squeezed shut, I desperately clutch Soren close and mutter into his chest. “Then why does it feel like I’m dying?”
The silence is loud, and I realize the truth.
If I’m not strong enough to contain my new abilities, then they will rip me apart from the inside out.
Just like all the others.
SOREN
Ituck Anita tightly against my chest, as if I could hold her together by sheer will alone. Hellfire sears my insides despite, my natural resistance, and my skin reddens wherever we touch, yet I refuse to let her go.
The only way to fight fire is with fire.
My beast growls in agreement seconds before my own flames ignite. The overwhelming heat abates just a fraction, allowing me to suck in a small breath. Pressing my cheek against the top of her head, I close my eyes and focus on keeping Anita from incinerating in my arms.
The instant my eyes close, images of that piece of shit beating the crap out of her fill my head. I normally relish the sound of flesh hitting flesh, the feeling of pounding my opponent into a meaty paste of blood and gore. I love the ache of bruised knuckles, the burn in my muscles, and the satisfaction of a job well done.
Knowing Anita was at the receiving end of the beating had my insides twisted up in knots, and I swallow the bile trying to choke me. Each time she grunted or moaned or taunted Stuart, doing her part of the plan to distract him, my beast would snarl in my head and demand I avenge her and rain hell down on the fuckers.
The sooner I found the contract, the sooner it would stop, and I could kill the fuckers and bathe in their blood. It took everything inside me to keep my back turned as I hunted down that damned scroll and not rip the fucker’s limbs from his body and present them to her in a bouquet.
My beast chuffed in my head in agreement.
Would Anita like their hearts?
For beastlings, carving out our prey’s heart and offering it to our mate is like a declaration of love. Unfortunately, Anita took care of the fuckers before I even had a chance to take vengeance and prove my devotion. My beast is still pouting at the missed opportunity.
Demonic energy slithers into the room, a familiar icy chill so cold, it burns. The energy has the same bitter brimstone flavor asthe contract I retrieved from the safe. It brushes against my skin like centipedes crawling across me with their creepy as fuck legs.
I stiffen, my head snapping up, and my beast growls in my chest. My arms automatically tighten, crushing Anita against me as I search the room for the demon who thinks he’s going to claim my mate—her father.
Shadows swirl and coalesce in the corner, looking like a brewing thunderstorm. Purple and red lightning shimmers in the depths as the barriers between the realms tear open. It takes incredible power to create a portal, especially without being summoned. Most demons aren’t able to exist in this world without possessing a host.
Her father must be a powerful high demon.
Not good.
If it came to a fight, we wouldn’t stand a chance. The demon could shred us into a bloody mist with barely a twitch of his pinky finger.
