Magical Lover (18 page)

He had no choice. He would try to explain the ritual and pray her fluctuating powers didn’t blast him in the middle of it.

May the Goddess shine Her light on him.

She might be more amenable to doing so if he’d bother to pray on occasion. When was the last time? Obviously too long if he couldn’t remember.

Slipping out from under the blanket, Thoren pulled it around Keara with his one non-clawed hand. That was starting to change into a claw.

Curse it.

In the manner of his race, he stood facing the wind to pray, feeling the touch of the Goddess as the wind caressed his hair. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine Her arms wrapped tightly around him, protecting him from the uncertainties of the Change. Standing quietly, he raised his hands to the sky, feeling Her breath on his skin, Her touch through his hair, and slowly the tension eased from his muscles.

****

Keara opened her eyes, expecting to see Thoren lying beside her. Only empty air greeted her. Where was Thoren? She started to push up on her elbow when she noticed him standing by her feet, arms raised above his head. She had to stare hard to see his chest rise and fall. Not that she minded watching his chest.

Or the muscles of his body. Or the heavy length of him which unfortunately was hidden in the shadows. Shame that.

She was definitely over her fear of him and moving down the road of serious liking.

The wind whipped his hair back from his face, dim shafts of moonlight speckling the sweat pouring down his face. Sweat? She sat up, letting the blanket pool about her waist, and focused on his face. Sweat dripped off his chin; even in the dim light she saw it. Was he sick? Maybe she should disturb him and ask, but he seemed to be praying.

His eyes opened, focusing on her. Guess he wasn’t praying after all. But something was wrong as his energy field danced erratically around his upper body. Turquoise blue intermingled with apple green and yellow spikes collided with a bright scarlet that appeared to be trying to overrun the other colors. What illness caused an aura like that?

And his hands. Claws spurted from the ends of his arms.

“It’s the Change.”

“Your hands.”

He raised a claw to eye level, turning it back and forth, a shudder running through his body. “I need your help.”

“I don’t know where my herb bag is.”

“Herbs won’t help.” He knelt at her feet. “I need your magic.”

“My magic?” Oh yes, that writhing ball of snakes she was supposed to control.

A burst of energy shot from her hand, striking the ground, a geyser of dirt spraying over them.

“You sure you want my magic? Because it doesn’t seem to be controlled.”

Thoren wiped dirt off his face with the back of his arm. “I don’t have a choice. If you don’t help me, I’ll turn into a dragon and will never be able to turn back.”

“Is that why Fafnir stays as a dragon?”

“Yes. Let me explain to you what you need to do. Please.”

If he wanted to use her uncontrolled magic to help him, who was she to argue? “All right. Tell me what I need to do.”

Two minutes later Keara raised a brow at Thoren. “That’s all I have to do? I thought this was some complicated task.”

“It’s not complicated. Just new to you. Do you think you can do it?”

What he described wasn’t much different than when she healed injuries. Same concept. No problem, right?

“Of course. Do you want to sit beside me?”

Thoren lowered himself to the ground, his face tensing with obvious pain.

Keara watched as the colors of his aura flickered, the red fighting for dominance. Thoren drew in a breath, sweat breaking on his brow. He wiped his forehead with his arm, while she reached a hand toward the colors, trying to still their fight. When her hand passed through the red light, it ceased its struggle, streaming instead toward her palm.

Instinct kept her hand still as the red light from Thoren’s aura flowed into it, pouring into her body. She gasped as the magic streamed through her veins, heating her palms. Should she absorb it, make it a part of her, or throw it away?

Too mesmerized by the colors dancing before her to decide, Keara continued to stroke her hands down the aura surrounding Thoren’s body, each stroke calming the clash of colors, easing the tension on his face. Thoren shuddered as she drew more of the scarlet into her hand. Her palms blistered, but the compulsion to continue overwhelmed the reaction to pull her hands away.

What should she do with all this magic gathered into her hands? She didn’t know how to throw it away, or what would happen to whatever object it landed on, and the trees already looked pretty sad from her own energy bursts.

Absorption it was. But how?

The magic crept through her veins, lodging in every pore of her body, filling her mind. Something inside her brain unlocked like a dam breaking as the magic spread into that previously hidden place. She noticed the colors of Thoren’s aura flickering in harmony before her vision darkened. Her body felt alive, on fire, every inch inside and out burning with the pulse of Thoren’s magic.

She heard a cry. What was that? Who cares? Her body was thrown backward, the breath leaving her as she hit the ground, a heavy body covering hers. She wanted this, wanted him, but the pulse of the magic soothed her, enticed her to work with it, to open to it, to ignore what was happening to her body.

He entered her, stretching her to fullness and yet the magic flowing out of him and into her took all her attention.

She reached for it, pulling it about her like a cloak, diving into its depths as he plundered her body. With each of his strokes she felt the pull of magic drag her deeper, until she no longer felt her body, no longer had consciousness. Nothing mattered but joining the scarlet magic of Thoren’s to her spirit, bonding him to her.

****

Thoren opened his eyes to see Keara’s pale face, her eyes closed. He kissed her cheek and looked at his hand, which praise the Goddess was a hand and not a claw. The ritual worked. Keara saved him from being stuck in dragon form.

“Thank you.”

She didn’t move.

“Keara?” He placed a hand against her cheek, feeling the heat pouring off her skin, then slipped it down to where her pulse beat in her neck. It took him a couple of tries to find her pulse, which beat in an erratic barely-felt pattern.

“Keara?” He shook her shoulder, hoping to wake her, getting nothing but a floppy head.

What happened? He’d never heard of a female being injured while helping a male through his Change and yet something was clearly wrong. But what?

He pulled out of her, smelling the musk of their joining, wishing he had taken his time instead of slamming into her like a green lad with his first female.

“Keara?”

Her skin burned where he touched it. Looking at her hands, he saw small blisters glittering in the moonlight. Magic only burned when it was absorbed.

Goddess’s teeth, she didn’t.

Thoren felt his heart jump, pounding away like he’d flown for miles. He wiped his palms on his thighs. Why hadn’t she thrown off his magic? Hadn’t he told her to do that?

After racking his brain for their conversation, he knew he hadn’t told her what to do with the magic. What had he been thinking to describe the ritual and forget the most important part?

Absorbing such strong magic usually resulted in death. He smacked his fist against his chest in a futile effort to stop the erratic pounding of his heart. His mate was dying.

A roar slammed through his ears and it took him a second to realize it came from him.

“Thoren?” Enar stepped into view, hair rumpled from sleep.

Thoren snarled, crouched in front of Keara and flipped the blanket to cover her naked form. Enar froze, his nose the only part of him moving.

“You Changed. I smell the magic.”

Yet another odd thing about his best friend coming to light at a time he couldn’t dwell on it. How could a Watcher smell magic? Only Draconi smelled magic.

“Keara’s injured.”

“You hurt her?”

“Yes. No. She absorbed my magic.”

“And that’s bad?”

“She’s supposed to throw it away, not absorb it. It might kill her. I need to get her to the Temple so the priestesses can perform a healing. Where’s Fafnir? We need to leave now.”

“Um, about Fafnir. I don’t know where he is. He disappeared when you and Keara walked back here.”

Thoren cursed. “I can’t carry all of you and she needs help now.”

“You go. We’ll come later. It’ll take us awhile, but we’ll get there. Still have our feet.”

Thoren wrapped the blanket around Keara, covering her, before he lifted her. The trees bunched too close together for him to turn into a dragon so he strode to where Lily and Jamie slept in the clearing by the fire. He placed Keara down, took a couple of steps away from her and turned. Scales rippled as skin disappeared, muscles elongating, bones snapping in a fury of change until his dragon overwhelmed the small clearing.

Keara took shallow breaths, her face reflecting the glow of the flickering flames of fire. What if she died before he made it to the Temple?

Positive thoughts, Thoren, positive thoughts.

He would make it to the Temple and she would be all right. Everything would be all right.

If only he believed it.

See you soon, friend.

“May your journey be quick.” Enar raised a hand.

As carefully as possible, Thoren gathered Keara into his talons, grasping her and the blanket. Two hops later and the wind caught his outstretched wings, lifting him into the air. With powerful strokes, he headed toward the Temple.

Hopefully he wasn’t too late.

Chapter 12

Thoren landed with a thud in the courtyard of the Temple, scattering grass, white-robed acolytes and priestesses. He placed Keara on the ground, the late morning sun catching highlights in her hair. Breathing heavily, Thoren willed his body back into its human form. Red scales transformed into skin, bones popping and shortening, leaving him as naked as the day he hatched. With a snap of his fingers, clothes appeared on his body and he lifted Keara into his arms. Startled voices from the acolytes and priestesses gasped around him as he marched to the gilded doors of the Temple, clutching Keara against his chest.

Aryana, his aunt and High Priestess, came barreling out the doors, trailed by an equally tall woman, Annaliese, her second in command and star healer. Perhaps they saw him coming. More likely, they heard the shouts in the Courtyard as he landed.

“Greetings, Ari.” He tried to smile at his aunt, but it came out as more of a grimace.

“What happened, Thoren?” Aryana asked, touching Keara’s face. “Who is she?”

He didn’t bother speaking for it took too long. Instead, he opened his mind and showed them how he found Keara and the rituals they underwent, leaving out the likelihood of her being his mate and their two joinings. Not that they didn’t know how rituals ended, but they didn’t need to be voyeurs.