Page 48 of Wrongfully Magicked
Fury ignites in my chest, and I don’t even hesitate to call my own flames. I grit my teeth when they blast out in a wave. Her golden red flames dim, and for a heart-stopping second, I fear my flames might overpower hers altogether and extinguish them. When they slowly merge, forming a searing white flame hot enough to incinerate even the most insidious magic, I sag in relief and curl myself around Anita.
The black magic sizzles like water being thrown into a pan of hot grease. It fights back, desperate to claim its new prize, but my hellhound roars in defiance. The combined assault is too much, and the dark magic drops to the ground, withering like maggots trying to escape.
They slowly burst with a pop, oozing a black substance that sizzles under the flames. The stench of carrion pollutes the air, and I drag Anita away from the nasty mess as it bubbles and melts into a dark sludge.
When I’m sure it’s gone, my flames gradually ease. They wrap around Anita’s naked form, nudging her much like an eager puppy looking for reassurance. I don’t sense any outward signs of injury, but her flames are nearly depleted.
Again.
That’s twice in as many days.
After a long minute, when my flames are finally convinced that the threat is really gone, they sink back into my skin, settling into a slow simmer, alert for any danger that might want to harm our mate. We failed and nearly lost her the first time. We won’t make that same mistake again.
With the roar and crackle of the flames gone, I hear the guys swearing. When I glance up, it’s to see them waiting at the edgeof a ten-foot charred circle of a black wasteland. The flames burned so hot that not even the dirt survived unscathed.
Unable to form words, I grunt.
It’s all confirmation the guys need to rush forward.
“What the hell happened?” Porter barks, but his attention is focused on the girl in my arms, his worry palpable.
“Is she okay?” Darby asks at the same time, reaching for Anita, then he hisses and jerks back when her skin scalds the tips of his fingers.
Before I can open my mouth, Anita releases a low groan and stirs in my arms. I tighten my hold at the thought of her leaving, not ready to let her go yet. Her hand comes to rest weakly on my chest. Instead of pushing me away, she just brushes her fingers lightly against the spot directly over my heart.
I release a shuddering breath and bury my face in the mass of her frizzy hair. The smell of smoke clings to her, her own scent faint underneath, reminding me how close we came to losing her. I’m not aware of a growl rumbling from my chest until Anita begins petting me.
While I’m not a damn animal to be tamed, my hellhound is soothed by her touch, her soft caresses like a balm to my soul.
When she leans closer, brushing her face against mine, the adrenaline rush finally fades, leaving me a shaking mess. The only thing holding me together is the slight girl in my arms. Though she might be small, she has the power to slay me with a single touch.
Then she wheezes out two words.
“Must. Breathe.”
I snort then reluctantly loosen my hold, despite my beast grumbling in complaint. I don’t let her go completely. I’m not sure I’m even capable of it at this point. I don’t apologize either, because I’m not sorry. If given the chance, I would never let herout of my arms, but girls generally freak out when you say shit like that to them.
I’ll have to ease Anita into accepting my overprotective nature, so she’s not aware of what’s happening until she’s addicted to my touch and can’t live without me.
Some say I’m a possessive asshole, but I’d like to think I’m an obsessive romantic.
Same difference, right?
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
ANITA
Istifle a groan, feeling like I just had the shit beaten out of me. As much as I wanted to protest being coddled, I couldn’t move even if I wanted to. Though I wouldn’t admit it out loud, being in Soren’s arms is peaceful, something that’s sorely been lacking in my life.
It could easily become addicting.
The idea is so scary that I struggle to sit up. Relying on anyone is a good way to get them killed. The thought of anything happening to Soren has bile rising in my throat. I flail around for a second as my body struggles to obey my commands.
Taking pity on me, Soren sets me in his lap with gentle hands, my back resting against his chest for support, and I release a silent breath at not having to be separated from him yet.
That’s when I realize I’m very much naked in front of them.
Again.
