He’d told them the story of how he’d seen the guy on the loading dock at the back doors and had gone out only to get hit by a magical attack.
“I don’t know. There weren’t that many.”
She should have felt shame for how she’d taken him in, a full rage, fists flying, shirt torn open and bloody. She’d looked and wanted to lick him. So bad and wrong, but he was so masculine and rawr.
“You would have taken the mage on your own, you know. Though I shouldn’t tell you because hello, how dare you have done that and endangered yourself!”
She heard the sob in her voice and it mortified her.
He turned, taking her hands after he’d made her put the tweezers down. “I’m sorry you were worried. But I’m here, and reasonably healthy apparently. I can handle my shit. It’s just I didn’t know much about the magick siphoning thing. Was that the clawing in my head? The oily magic?”
“Yes. I’m told that’s what it feels like.”
“Hurt enough to make me puke. Been a while since I’ve thrown up after a fight. Especially when I wasn’t even drunk.” He kissed the frown on her mouth. “I can handle a dustup. I’ve done things in my past I may not always be proud of, but it left me with the ability to fuck someone’s shit up. I can protect myself and you too.” He looked at her features for long moments. “And I will. What if it had been you instead of me? Damn it, I keep playing it over and over in my head.”
If he kept this up, she’d cry for real. “Turn around so I can finish.”
The left corner of his mouth twitched and he finally gave her a small smile before turning. “Explain it to me. What happens with this siphoning stuff. We’ll both feel better when you do.”
“When a mage steals magick, it tears apart your internal shields and makes a wound of sorts, like an ugly tear in the veins your magick travels through. It’s not actually veins, but that’s the easiest way to think on it.”
He shuddered a little and she leaned in to kiss the back of his neck.
“A mage can drain you because the energies they use are … different than what we do. Our magick is natural, it works in certain, reliable ways. There are limits on what we can do, but our ability to do it is inborn.”
“What do I need to do to stop it?”
“Funny you should ask, but Nell’s been in contact with a witch who lives in Boston. She’s working on some defensive magicks from across several practice paths, and she’s going to work with Rodas Clan to teach their witches and then it’ll move outward. Nell is sending Gage to be trained along with a few others and he’ll come back here and do our trainings.”
Her hands shook and she forced herself to concentrate on the wound instead of how he could have been kidnapped or tortured and murdered like some of the others.
“What’s a practice path?”
“Clan witches practice a certain sort of magick. Sometimes that differs from place to place or clan to clan. Then you’ve got others who do things differently. There are a great many witches who use blood in their warding and some of their spellwork.”
She angled the nearby desk lamp to check his back once more. “You’re good. Gage left some stuff his mother made. She’s a medical doctor and a magickal healer of sorts. Anyway, he uses it on his bruises.” She held up the jar of bright green goo.
“I want to shower. And you need to come with me. You know, just in case I need help.”
She rolled her eyes, but felt better.
“Sit.” She pointed at a chair and then began to bustle around, gathering clothes and towels and getting everything ready. “Anyway, a practice path is how a witch accesses her power. But as you can imagine, there’s lots of snobbery and infighting about it. So and so thinks she’s better because she uses magic a certain way and you don’t so you’re inferior. Essentially we’ve lost what makes us all strong. Our ability to use our magicks in many ways for different circumstances.”
She turned the water on and let it heat a moment as she walked back into the bedroom and saw him there, sitting, bruised and bloody and so unbelievably sexy it halted her steps.
“If we knew about each other’s magick, we’d have a lot more defenses against these mages.”
She nodded, moving to him again. “Exactly. Divided we’re weak. This is magick we’re talking about. A witch is a witch as long as she doesn’t break the basic creed about not harming but for self-defense. These mages don’t care what practice path the witches their hurting use. But they’re going to expect a certain response from certain witches. I say we mess that up. If I know how other witches would react that only adds to my ability to fight back. We have to fight back.”
“I agree. But you’re distracting me now and I might need some help with my pants.”
She went to her knees as he stood and the look on his face shot straight to her clit. Gaze on his, she reached up and unzipped his pants.
“I’m suddenly feeling a lot better, but now that I’ve got no blood above my waist, a little dizzy.”
She pulled his pants and his boxers off and stood, but not before she placed a kiss on the head of his cock. “Later for that. Now come on. You need to shower so I can put the bruise goo on you.”
He followed her into the bathroom and she then found herself in the shower stall, her back pressed against the cool tiles. “I’ve got some goo for you too.”
It didn’t do to show him how much he amused her. It would only make him think it was acceptable. But he did.
“Stop that.”
His body was so close as her clothes got soaked. He made very quick work of them, leaving her as naked as he. And her shaking now had nothing to do with fear.
“You should get cleaned up.”
“You’re talking, baby, but not saying anything.” He spoke, his lips against hers and she melted into him. She was so easy for this man. She laughed, not meaning to, but glad for it.
“Have you noticed how much time you spend getting me against walls and laying down on things?”
He laughed before drawing her back under the spray. “It’s biological. If I can hem you in, I know I can talk my way past any of your excuses and right into your panties.”
He underlined this by tracing his fingertips downward, over the seam of her pussy, teasing her open.
She gulped. “Seems to me, you’re already there.”
“I need in you.” Her nipped her bottom lip.
“Yes.”
He eased back, squirting some of his soap into his palm. “After I get you all clean.”
He was the one who needed it. But she let him touch her, let his slick hands rove over the whole of her. She gave herself to him and he took. A circuit of energy clicked between them, heating, enticing, their attraction humming against skin where he slid over her with a covetous touch.
Around those hands, she gently soaped the blood away. Careful with the bruises, she skimmed over his hurts.
His lips brushed against her cheek and then to her mouth. He took her in a kiss that stole her breath. His tongue swept past the seam of her lips.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” she whispered as he lifted her up and positioned her just where he wanted. “Don’t strain yourself or you’ll need stitches.”
“I need you so much it’ll hurt if I can’t have you,” he said as he circled her gate with the head of his cock.
It wasn’t that she disagreed with his aims in this.
Before she could re-inquire about his bruises, he’d lifted her a little more and began to work his way inside.
And then she wasn’t sure she could have remembered the words to make him careful with himself. As it was every time he touched her, she melted into him, seeking more, needing everything he wanted to give.
So hot and tight.
Dominic held the most precious thing in his world as he pressed in a little more with each thrust. He fought hard against instincts that made him want to rut. Made him want to plunge into her all the way and fuck her until they were both sated. Fuck her until the fear had gone and the panic over her safety went away.