Magical Lover (17 page)

She stroked her fingers down his chest, brushing her thumb over his nipple, watching his jaw stiffen as his eyes closed. “How do I do that?”

His lids snapped open. “You’ve never done this?”

Uh-oh. He looked worried. Despite the shadows obscuring his face, she knew her virginity concerned him. After tonight, it wouldn’t be a problem. There was no way she was stopping now. No way. He was hers.

“I haven’t done it in this position.” Or any position, but he didn’t need to know that.

“Gently grasp my shaft and put it inside you. Just be careful not to bend it.”

Of course. She knew that. Innocence did not equal naiveté. She could do this. He was her husband. He rescued her twice. He wanted her.

Dragging her nails down his chest, listening to his sighs, power coursed through her limbs, slamming into her core. Wetness from her folds flowed over his staff as she grasped him in her hand, centering him against her. Rising up on her knees, she lowered herself onto him, eyes flaring as he penetrated her untried channel.

Inch by inch she lowered herself onto him until he filled her. Invasion, penetration, oneness. His hands locked on her waist, raising and lowering her, his staff pulling inside, rubbing over sensitive places she didn’t know she had. Leaning forward and shifting her hips brought a rush of pleasure, focusing on one spot.

She rubbed that spot against him, faster, faster, until she shattered, floating on a wave of bliss. He grasped her hips, slowing the motion, increasing the pressure. Long strokes that pulled against her sensitive tissues, that brought her to the edge again. He joined her in pleasure, crying out as she felt his staff jerk inside her.

She collapsed on top of him, his arms wrapping around her waist.

“How do you feel?” he whispered against her ear.

“Mmm.” Wonderful. Sore.

“Do you feel your magic?”

How could he think about magic after what happened between them? “No.”

“Sometimes it takes awhile.” He rolled them to their sides, slipping out of her, but keeping his arm about her waist.

“What does it feel like?”

“Like—” Thoren inhaled, nostrils flaring. “Why do I smell blood? Did I hurt you?”

Heat bloomed in her cheeks. She hadn’t thought he’d be able to smell the remnants of her virginity. Shaking her head, she ducked, pressing her face into his chest.

“Are you not telling me something?”

“I’m all right. I’d tell you if I wasn’t.”

A long pause. “If you say so.”

She started to nod, when her hair stuck straight out, as if a bolt of lightning landed nearby. “What—”

Waves of electricity crashed through her arms, her legs, jerking her onto her back, a cry breaking through her lips. Thoren placed a hand over her heart, pressing her into the ground, stilling the tremors shaking her limbs.

“This is the magic. Center it in you, gather it into a ball. Hold the magic in the ball.”

Was he daft? How was she supposed to do that when it felt like electric snakes slithered through her veins? Closing her eyes, she pictured the strands of electricity as snakes, slithering, sliding and she reached out her arms, gathering them to her. They came, crawling into her arms, circling around her, until she managed to push them into a ball. A writhing ball.

Good thing snakes didn’t bother her.

“All right. I have the ball.”

“Don’t let it get away from you. Think of the ball as your magic. If you let it escape, then it can cause damage. You’ll learn to control it so that you determine how much energy escapes at once.”

“Umm...the ball is coming apart.”

“Hold it together! Find a way to hold it together.”

What held snakes in place? Keara imagined a net surrounding the snakes, a tightly woven net, too small for the snakes to escape. Ah. That worked. She opened her eyes.

A burst of energy shot from her hand, singing Thoren’s shoulder before slamming into a tree. The smell of burning flesh saturated her nostrils. Without thinking, she placed her other hand over the seared skin on his shoulder, healing the burn.

Unlike the other times she’d healed, this one didn’t leave her drained. Tired, but that could be from the sex. Or the ritual. Or the day.

“How did you do that?” Thoren rubbed where her energy singed him.

If he only knew. “I just can. I’ve always been able to. And I’m really sorry about the burn. I’m not sure what happened.”

“Don’t feel bad, it’s normal. I expected that. I didn’t expect you to heal it. Thank you.”

“It’s normal to singe skin and burn trees?”

“It’s expected when a female’s powers are first unlocked. It won’t last long. You’ll figure out how to hold the energy in unless you need it to work magic.”

“Do males go through this ritual too?”

Thoren brushed a piece of hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear. “Males go through the Change when they are in their mid-thirties. There is a ritual for the Change but not to unlock their powers.”

“So, how do males have their powers unlocked?”

“Not in the same way females do. Males usually start working magic when they are young. When they go through puberty, they have almost all of their powers. When a male goes through the Change, then he gains his full powers.”

“Have you gone through the Change?”

“No. Not yet.”

“So males have powers when they hit puberty but females don’t?”

“Females have some powers. As you do with healing. But until their powers can be unlocked, they don’t have their full abilities. However, females typically have stronger magic than do males. Not always, though.”

“So my magic is stronger than yours?”

Teeth flashed white in the darkness as Thoren grinned. “At the moment your magic is more electrifying than powerful. Maybe when you learn to control it.”

“Smarty-pants.” A strand of magic flew out of her fingers, cutting into another tree. Luckily, the tree remained standing. “Aargh! How am I supposed to sleep if I keep blowing things up?”

Thoren looked at the tree. “It’s not blown up.”

“You know what I mean.” Keara pinched him.

He snorted. “Sorry. Couldn’t help it. But you don’t need to worry about sleep. Nothing has ever happened to a female when she sleeps. No escaping powers, no magical death blows. Don’t worry.”

“Thanks.” She thought. What if he was wrong? What if she burned him to death in her sleep? Or set the woods on fire, killing everyone?

“Really. Trust me. Besides, I’m here. I’ll make sure nothing happens.”

“But the tree is burned.”

“I wasn’t focusing then. I am now. Trust me, Little One. Sleep.”

Tiredness flooded her body, making her eyelids heavy, her mouth opening in a yawn. She snuggled her head on his shoulder, letting the heat of his body and the steady thumping of his heart lull her to sleep.

****

Thoren watched Keara sleep, the curve of her breast resting against his chest, her skin prickling in the chill night air. Instead of watching her sleep, he needed to ensure her warmth. What was he thinking?

He wasn’t.

Holding out his hand, he used his magic to pull the invisibility blanket out of his bag and float it to him. With a flick of his wrist, he draped the blanket over Keara and himself. Warmth.

Not like he needed more heat. He had enough lying next to Keara.

For once, he understood why a male would do anything to be with his female. Why had he wanted to leave her? Was his job that important?

He pictured them together, her working with the healing priestesses at the Temple and him...staying home.

What did mated males do all day?

He could teach the hatchlings how to control their magic. That was an acceptable position for a mated male to have. But where was the excitement, the adrenaline rush, the joy of outmaneuvering one’s enemies?

It didn’t exist in teaching.

Could he live with that? He looked down at Keara, felt her breath tickle the skin of his chest. She belonged to him, of that he was sure. It took all his will not to lock inside her during sex, to mark her inside and out as his mate.

Could he give up his livelihood for her? A shiver shook him. He hadn’t planned for this. Hadn’t meant to find his mate this early in his life. His head pounded. Undoubtedly from too much thinking.

Thoren rubbed his forehead. What was up with his aching head? Since when did he have head pains? The brushing of Keara’s soft skin against his chest, her breasts rising and falling as she slept soothed the headache into a dull throb, a background noise.

A wave of tiredness swept over him, trying to push him under. Keara had the right idea. Sleep sounded wonderful. Enar and Fafnir could watch the camp. Maybe a little shut-eye would get rid of the head pains. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and let the pain beating in his skull pull him into a fitful darkness.

Chapter 11

Thoren woke with a gasp, blood pounding in his ears, sweat covering his body. Creeping shadows rustled through the trees with the wind as his wide-eyed gaze frantically roved their branches. He sat up, shaking his head, trying to remember the dream that disturbed him, to no avail. Glancing down at Keara sleeping by his side, he started to run fingers through his hair, stopping when he saw his hand.

Shadows from the moving branches flickered across his hand as he turned it to and fro. Not even shadows could play a trick like this. Concentrating, he willed the dragon’s talon back into a human hand.

This couldn’t be happening. He still had several years left.

A dream. That’s what it must be. He’ll open his eyes and everything will be fine. The hand will still be a hand. No claw.

Thoren opened his eyes and stared at the claw formerly known as his hand. Closed them. Opened again. Tried to get his heart to stop pounding like a hammer on an anvil.

Goddess’s bones.

The Change. That time in a male’s life where he was brought into his full powers or left forever in dragon’s form. Only a female could bring a man into his powers, no female and he was stuck with scales. Same as Fafnir.

Dear Goddess, no!

Unfortunately for him, all he had available was a female who had just been brought into her powers and had no idea what the ritual involved. He could fly home—according to Fafnir it was a little over half a day away—but to turn willingly into the dragon while Changing meant he might never return to his human form.

He shuddered. If Keara couldn’t help him, he would become like Fafnir, stuck in dragon form until his death. Dear gods, he hoped not.

Keara lay on her back, one arm thrown over her head, her braid tumbling across her bare breasts. Would she be able to help him? He could explain the ritual to her, but it would be up to her to perform it. Closing his eyes, Thoren took deep breaths, trying to reduce the pounding in his veins.