Blood Magic (Dragon Born Alexandria Book 2) (24 page)

“Oh?”

“Marek has informed me of the impressive magic you have displayed.”

“You asked him to spy on me?”

“Not spy. Observe.”

Which was just a nicer way of saying ‘spy’.

“You are a powerful mage, Alexandria.”

“I hope this little chat won’t end with you telling me that you’ve booked me a ticket to the next Magic Games.”

“No, we don’t have time for such frivolous games right now. Besides, I’m not sure it would do much good. Duncan Blackbrooke was quite distraught by his failure to crack your sister. I have a feeling that same stubbornness runs in the family.”

“Yeah, it’s kind of our trademark trait. That and our sarcastic streak and badass attitude, of course.”

He chuckled. “Indeed. I haven’t met a mage like you in…well, a very long time.”

Gaelyn counted his birthdays in millennia, so for him a ‘long time’ could mean centuries. Alex was flattered—well, at least she thought she was.

“Has your magic been at all affected by the bite you received from the vampire elf last month?”

“My magic? No,” she lied.

Well, technically it was true. Her magic hadn’t been affected, at least not as far as she could tell. Her problem lay elsewhere. And she wasn’t about to admit to the freaky dreams or occasional desire to gnaw on Logan’s neck.

“Very well. Just tell me if you begin to experience symptoms,” he said. “Not every bite from a vampire or vampire hybrid will transform a mage, but that was a very specific kind of bite, the kind meant to spread a large dose of vampire venom.”

“Are you saying the vampire elf wanted to change me?”

“Perhaps. Or he wanted to disable or kill you. That’s the other reason a vampire might deliver a bite like that.” Gaelyn paused. “It’s very unusual to experience no symptoms whatsoever. I’m quite amazed by how easily your body fought off the vampire venom.”

Not that easily, if her lingering dreams were any indication, but even so, her symptoms were minimal. That was thanks to her Dragon Born blood, another thing she couldn’t mention to Gaelyn. She sure was racking up quite a hefty list of secrets.

Unless he already knew. He was old—old enough to have personally witnessed the rise and fall of the Dragon Born mages. He had to know the signs. Or maybe he’d forgotten. He often said that his memory and magic had faded over the centuries.

“Goodbye, Alexandria,” he said. “I hope to see you again soon.”

With the call ended, Alex set her phone down on the nightstand. Logan placed his hands on her shoulders.

“You’re shaking,” he said.

“Am I?”

She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. It had been one hell of a night, and she wasn’t convinced it was over yet. She’d survived turbo-charged mages, an assassin with a vendetta, collapsing tunnels, vampires, and a pretty epic beatdown from Logan. The healing drink she’d chugged down on the way up to their suite seemed to be working—well, at least she didn’t see any broken ribs sticking out of her side.

She’d drained her magic at least five times over tonight. She’d unlocked her power, linked with her dragon, and dissolved a room full of people into ashes with dragon fire. She still wasn’t sure whether to be excited or scared shitless of her newly-discovered powers.

In other words, she was dirty, bloody, and just plain worn out. She could have rolled over and slept for a month.

“Shower?” Logan asked.

Oh, right. Dirty. Her stench must have been reeking havoc with his nose.

“A shower, you say? God, yes,” she said.

With fluid ease, Logan rolled up and slid off the bed. He disappeared into the bathroom. Alex sighed and dragged her sore body in after him. The shower was already on, the air filling with a hot and steamy mist. She kicked off her boots and socks. The icy kiss of the tiles against her soles jolted her awake.

Logan stepped smoothly behind her. Soft as a whisper, his deft hands slid down the zipper of her top, then carefully peeled it off her shoulders. She hardly recognized the shredded tangle of black leather he tossed into the bathtub. His fingers brushed across her back, carefully unhooking her bra. Alex tugged down her ripped, blood-stained jeans, then slid off her underwear.

Shivering, she stepped into the shower. Hot water pounded against her sore body, stilling her chills. A lovely shade of blood and grime washed down her skin. She leaned her hands against the white wall tiles and dropped her head, inhaling the steam.

The glass door of the shower brushed shut. She could feel Logan standing there, his aura coiled tightly around hers. A sponge slid slickly down her back. The scent of lilacs tickled her nose. He worked the sponge down the entire back of her body, then turned her around and did the same for her front. By the time he was done, there wasn’t a speck of dirt or blood on her.

She took the sponge from him, then turned him around. That’s when he finally spoke.

“You’re worried about the Convictionites, the decaying peace between humans and supernaturals, and you’re busy blaming yourself.”

“Yes,” she admitted, squirting the body wash into the sponge. Lilac wasn’t a manly scent, but it sure beat blood and dirt. She focused her eyes on his back and began to scrub, trying to lose herself in the task of cleaning him. And not thinking. That was essential.

The blood slid off his skin, pouring down to the tiled floor. Black particles dotted the red-stained water swirling around the drain. He turned, and she did the front too. As she washed the sponge across his chest, it caught against the rough edge of the wound hidden beneath the dirt.

“Sorry,” she said.

“It’s fine. I hardly feel it.” He took her hand, bringing it to his lips. “The wound has almost healed.”

Which was pretty impressive considering a bullet had torn through him not even an hour ago. Alex stared at the tiny drop of blood beading on the surface of his skin. The sudden urge to lick it up hit her. She hastily looked away.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” she asked him.

“Yes, I heal fast. You don’t.” He traced a finger down her side, following the trail of bruises.

“The healing drink is still working its magic,” she said. “But I’m fine.” She smiled. “No worries.”

He set his hands on her shoulders. The sudden shift of muscle knocked the blood drop from its perch. It trickled down his chest, rippling over the ridges of his stomach. A loud, throbbing beat thumped inside her ears.

“Alex?”

She snapped out of the trance. She realized her hands were pressed against his chest. And that she was licking her lips.

“Just take my blood into you.” His voice buzzed against her fingertips, vibrating in sync to the electric hum of his aura.

“What?”

“You want it.”

Alex hesitated.

“I want it too,” he told her. Every syllable was taut and tense, like his facade of control could rip apart any second, unleashing something primitive. Something dark.

His pulse quickened as she lowered her head to his chest. She smiled up at him, then flicked her tongue against the drop of blood, licking it up. Magic exploded in her mouth, scorching her throat all the way down to her belly. Hot liquid fire spread out from her core, cascading though her body. She moaned against his chest, sucking up more blood. The fire inside blazed higher, burning her blood and consuming her flesh.

“Oh, Alex. I can feel my blood inside of you,” he groaned.

She didn’t even know how to parse that. She didn’t know how to parse
anything
at the moment. All she knew was that she needed him. Now. She leaned in, her body sliding against his hard chest as she rose to kiss him. His tongue slid into her mouth, overwhelming her senses with his delectable taste.

“I love you,” he told her, his words tracing her neck all the way down. “And Shadowstalker was right about one thing: if I’d lost you, I wouldn’t have been thinking about rationality or hypocrisy.” His voice dropped to a deadly whisper. “Only revenge.”

“Then it’s a good thing you didn’t lose me.”

A tiny cry escaped her lips as his fingers slid between her legs. Fire twisted and throbbed inside of her, coiling her up so tightly that she thought she might burst. She pushed against his hand, wanting so much more.

“Patience, my love,” he whispered, kissing her so softly that it hurt.

But she didn’t want to be patient. Desire gnawed at her, raw and hard. “No,” she told him.

“No?” An amused smile touched his lips.

She slid her hand lower. “No.”

His eyes lit up with pure need. His hands locked around her waist, lifting her onto him like she weighed nothing. “Well, when you put it like that,” he growled against her lips. “How can I refuse?”

* * *

Alex smiled across the bed at Logan. He didn’t even notice. His eyes were lifted in thought, his mind someplace far from here. His hand, featherlight, caressed her arm, tracing her sides. She’d rarely seen him so gentle.

“What are you thinking?” she asked him.

His eyes met hers, and they were filled with regret. “I lost control again.”

“In the shower?”

That elicited a smile from him. “No—well, yes. But that’s not what I meant. The Convictionites gained control of me, wielding me like a weapon. Wielding me against you. Again.”

“And I broke the spell. Again.”

The dour look he gave her was hardly encouraging. His hand paused atop her hip. Frowning, she set her hand over his, encouraging him to move it again.

“Don’t listen to Shadowstalker,” she told him. “He was a sad, bitter, twisted little man. I can break whatever spell they put on you. And I’m getting stronger, especially now that my magic has been unlocked.” There were people with super-hearing in the next room, so she didn’t mention her dragon. “I feel different, Logan. Stronger. Faster. More powerful. We will find a way to break the Convictionites’ control once and for all.”

“How?”

“I don’t know, but we’ll find out. We’ll look into it right away, even if it means sitting in libraries doing research.”

“Knowing us, it will be more like breaking into libraries.”

“True,” she laughed. “We’ll figure this out. Together.”

“I made you an assassin’s target. Shadowstalker never would have come after you if it hadn’t been for me. Being with me is dangerous.”

“It’s no more dangerous than it was yesterday when we had this conversation.
Living
is dangerous for me,” Alex said. She lowered her voice. “Being what I am. And I’ve probably made you a target to a hell of a lot more people than one teensy assassin. Does that bother you?”

“No. I can take care of myself.”

“And I can take care of myself too,” she said. “I’ll admit I’ve never been in a real relationship. It was kind of impossible given what I am and what I do. But I’m pretty sure that having someone with you as you suffer through all the shit life throws at you is one of the perks. There have been precious few people in my life that I’ve loved—my dad, my sister and brother—but I’ve never been in love with anyone but you.” Her throat tightened. “I’m not going to give up on you.”

He stared at her for a few moments, then said, “Nor will I give up on you. We will face this together.”

She cleared her throat. “Good, then I won’t have to kick your ass for nearly making me cry.”

Smiling, Logan reached out and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Have I mentioned how incredibly beautiful you are?”

“Maybe once or twice,” she teased. “But compliments are always appreciated. Chocolate too. And back rubs.”

“I’ll have to remember that,” he chuckled, scraping his fingernails down her back.

She nestled up closer to him, wiggling her back against his fingers with sweet relish.

“There’s just one thing,” he said.

“Oh?” She could hardly hear him over her own euphoria. Her muscles had gone liquid.

“Deathstalker messaged me a few minutes ago. He’s found someone who knows more about the assassin who killed your father. We can meet this person tomorrow morning at Panorama. If you still want to know, that is.”

“Yes,” she told him. “Yes, I do.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Nightshade

THE NEXT MORNING, Alex and Logan went to Panorama, which turned out to be a boat. There was easily enough room for half a dozen small tables on the deck, but right now there was only one. A breakfast spread arranged atop a pink tablecloth waited for them. Moments after they stepped on board, the boat pushed away from the dock.

As Alex reached for her chair, his hand closed over hers. “Allow me,” his lips whispered against her ear, buzzing like a low electrical current.

He pulled out the chair with fluid ease, leaned down to kiss her on the cheek, then took his own seat opposite her. Alex smiled at the sight of a big, bad assassin in black sitting down at a table with a pink tablecloth.

His blond brows lifted. “Something tickle your fancy, Vigilante?”

“You, Slayer. I hope that tablecloth doesn’t clash with your ensemble.”

His gaze flickered briefly to the pink tablecloth. “Black goes with everything,” he said, deadpan.

She snickered.

“Besides,” he added, a sly smile curling up his lips. “You have a few pink and lacy things I wouldn’t mind seeing again.”

“Shh, don’t tell anyone about my pink panties. It would totally destroy my reputation.”

“Oh, I might be convinced to keep silent.” His leg slid against hers. “For a price.”

She propped her elbows against the table and leaned in closer. “I’m listening.”

“Later,” he promised, and his eyes told her he meant it.

He took a croissant from the bread basket and nibbled a bite off of it. After chewing it around slowly in his mouth for a few seconds, he handed her the basket. Her own personal poison-tester. How romantic. Her Dragon Born biology could deal with any magic-based poison—some faster than others—but his body destroyed all toxins of any sort, whether magical or mundane.

“Are we expecting this to be a trap?” Alex asked, taking a muffin. Sure, she’d brought her sword along—she never went anywhere without that if she could help it—but she’d been hoping to make it through one morning without fighting for her life.