Sinful Magic (36 page)

Dyfyr caught her in his hands, cradling her gently.

She was furious and sickened. “Liam! He’s rogue; he doesn’t have a soul. He wants your soul! That’s why he’s desperate to get the Tear. Then he’d have a soul and the strength of a dragon in him. He’d be a powerful ally for Asmodeus.”

“That is also why Beth wore the Tear. If they did kill Kieran, my soul would go to her. She taunted both Kieran’s father and Liam that since they didn’t have dragon blood in their veins, my soul wouldn’t be able to go to them.”

Her thoughts spun. “Is that true?”

“Yes. And Asmodeus knew it as well.”

“That’s why

oh God. That’s why Asmodeus and Young infused Liam with fertility witch blood. They are all descended from you

they have dragon blood. He created a vessel for your soul.”

Dyfyr’s scales glittered with fury, his chest expanded, and a low growl ripped up his throat. “They murdered those witches! Our descendants! They have perverted true sex magic into an abomination, and we will not allow it! You must make Kieran understand. I have to get the Tear from you and end my immortality.”

She saw it all so clearly now. “I will try.”

“You will succeed. I will not lose you again.” Dyfyr calmed down, his ruby eyes glowing. “My love, it’s time to go back. You’re growing tired and must rest.”

“No,” she said softly, “I’m not ready to leave you.”

“You’re not leaving me. You have felt me when you’re with Kieran. You know I am with you, love. But I am not the only one.”

The warmth of their love began to glow in her spirit. “You mean Kieran?”

Once again his chest puffed up; his scales rippled in incredible beauty. “I mean the child you carry.” As he finished saying the words, beams of colored light shot out from his scales, and she was traveling again, but her mind was overflowing with too much wonder to pay attention.

She was pregnant.

As soon as Key had felt her magic bloom hot and wild in his chest, he’d slipped out of her body and sat up, shifting Roxy onto his lap. Her power rippled through him, heating his blood, making him feel more alive than he’d ever been and firing his need to draw.

Holding her, he rolled to his feet and carefully walked into the bedroom. Roxy was boneless and so damned trusting in his arms, his throat tightened. She knew he’d take care of her body while she did her magic. Never had he been a part of something so intimate and special. Picking up his sketch pad and pencils, he sat on the bed, leaned against the headboard, and settled her against his chest. Her magic continued to strum through him, strong and steady. Naturally, he was hard again. His witch funneled enough sex magic to put Viagra out of business. Not that he needed her magic to get aroused by her. Just her voice, her touch, her scent made him hot. He set the book on the bed next to his thigh, and with his right arm wrapped around Roxy, he flipped it open to a blank page and began to capture the images filling his mind. He had no idea how much time passed before he realized her magic was dialing back in his chest. He dropped the pencil, fully aware of what he’d drawn—he could see the witches surrounding his mother, who wore the Tear—but Roxy came first.

Always.

He moved her into the cradle of his arm and she opened her eyes.

“You’re back.” He stroked her face and felt a slight throb. She must have a headache. He slid his fingers into her hair and gently massaged her scalp, drawing off the ache. “You saw Dyfyr.” His voice was husky with pride and the residue of her magic.

Her witch-shimmer was dimming, but it rippled with sudden light. “He’s amazing.”

He smiled at her, then slipped his fingers from her scalp to trail down to the lights in the Tear flashing where it was buried in the curve of her breast. “Did he tell you how to get the Tear out?”

Her witch-shimmer faded away, and she lifted her gaze to his. “He said he can do it. You have to let him do it.” She slid off his thighs and sat facing him, drawing her knees up. Then she saw his sketchbook. “Is this what you were doing while I was in my third eye? What did you draw?” She picked up the book and squinted in the semigloom.

Key leaned over and turned on the bedside lamp for her.

Roxy turned the page. “This is what Dyfyr showed me. The spell to call his soul into you when you were in your mother’s womb.” She looked up at him. “You saw it?”

He shrugged. “Images bouncing in my head. I don’t know if you or Dyfyr were projecting to me, but I got the gist of it. My mother wore the Tear; your mother and other witches performed the spell to summon Dyfyr’s soul into her baby.”

“Dyfyr is angry, called what they did an abomination.”

Key listened as Roxy explained what she’d learned from the dragon. How the spell had gone wrong, causing the Tear to try to kill her. How her mother had done more spells to call the soul of Dyfyr’s lover from Summerland. It took all his self-control to keep his growing fury in check at what her bitch of a mother had done to her. He needed to have a clear head, listen to what she’d learned, and save Roxy. That was the important thing. So he asked, “How did she have enough magic to do those things? Witches need high magic to do spell work. This was after the curse when they couldn’t access their high magic.”

Roxy lowered her chin to her knees. “I didn’t ask Dyfyr that, but I think it was the Tear. It had enough of Dyfyr’s magic in it, and fertility witches were created by him, so it strengthened their magic enough to call his soul. And maybe enough residual power to call my soul from Summerland, but that took longer. How old are you?”

He didn’t even blink at her shift in subjects. “Twenty-eight.”

“I’m twenty-four, so it took her at least three years to become pregnant with me.”

He couldn’t stand not touching her so he wrapped his hand around her calf. After they summoned the dragon into Key, Roxy’s mother spent the next three years desperately trying to get pregnant with Dyfyr’s lover. He was with her so far. “Your mother believed waking Dyfyr would restore the fertility witches’ power?”

Roxy nodded. “But it won’t, the curse is demon magic, and Dyfyr can’t undo that. Soul mirrors are the only solution. But at the time, no one knew that. Everyone was desperate to find a fix.” She lifted her head. “I’m not excusing my mother, what she did was wrong. Even as frightened and desperate as she must have felt after the curse

how did she justify forcing a dragon’s soul into a baby?” Her face flushed with anger. “Into you?”

His self-control slipped. “You’re the one wearing the death sentence because of her! She spelled that Tear to kill you! And I swear to you if you die, I will kill her.”

Roxy’s spine snapped straight, and hot color flooded her face. “No, you can’t! She’s not a demon witch—you’ll lose your soul.” She grabbed his arm. “Swear it, Kieran! Swear you won’t kill her!”

He felt her fingers digging into his arm with her pure panic and raw worry. For him. Even facing her own death, she worried about him. He didn’t know if he could make that promise, so he said, “Don’t die. Just don’t leave me, Roxy.”

“Kieran

”

Her fingers on his arm softened as her love seeped into him. And with it he also felt how tired she was. Getting himself under control, he said, “Tell me the rest.”

She studied his face, then said, “It’s about Liam. Why he wants the Tear.”

Cold rage tried to dig in again, but Key squelched it. “For Asmodeus.”

“Yes, but there’s more to it.” She took a breath. “Dyfyr is immortal. If you die and Liam has the Tear—”

The truth rang in his head like cymbals clanging. “His soul goes to Liam.” His anger broke through. “He wants Dyfyr’s strength and violence to kill more witches. They think they can harness the dragon in Liam and make him into a weapon for the demon.” Key looked at her. “When I was young, I was exactly what they thought I was

a coward. I didn’t know how to fight. It was easier to just let Dyfyr pull me away. To escape. It’s wasn’t until Phoenix forced me to fight that Dyfyr began to waken and help me fight back. Now I’m a killer that they admire.” And one day, he’d lose control and kill another innocent like Vivian and their baby. Key knew it was in him to do it. It had to be—look what he came from. He’d killed his own father. What kind of man does that?

Roxy put her hand on his bunched forearm. “You’re not them, Kieran. You are not. Your father deserved to die and you know that or you wouldn’t have killed him.”

She’d heard his thoughts. Their bond was growing at an astonishing rate. He lifted his eyes to her gaze. “How do you know that?”

“Because I share your soul. And I know how you would lay down your own life, even today, to go back and give Vivian and your child another chance at life. That you regret that mistake every day. That you loved her as much as you were capable at seventeen years old, and that while maybe you didn’t quite love the child yet, you loved the idea of your own family and you would have loved that baby once you held him in your arms. Your only mistake that day was not realizing Vivian had gotten up. But it was an accident. You did not kill her. Liam killed her by pulling her into the path of your knife.”

Key was staggered by her. She was dead-on, so exactly right he almost couldn’t draw a breath. He felt such loving respect and acceptance for his memories of Vivian coming from Roxy that he knew he was no longer alone in his guilt and grief, or in anything. He had blamed himself for letting the filth of his past touch, Vivian but he realized that the truth was he hadn’t trusted her enough to tell her what he really was, or that he came from killers. They’d been too young to really know what real love was.

But now

he looked up at his witch and knew love was about trust and partnership. It was scary and exhilarating. It made him strive to be worthy of her. Then he looked down at the Tear. He thought he’d known fear before?

Not even close. Losing her would rip his soul apart, taking out all the good and leaving all that was rotten in him. He couldn’t lose her. “How do we save you?”

She tensed. “You have to let Dyfyr do it. He’s tried twice and both times you shut him down. Your will is so strong, you stopped him. But he’s only trying to save me, not hurt me. And remember, he’s immortal, so he’ll use the Tear on himself, becoming mortal and tied to your life force. Then Wing Slayer can make us both immortal. So the Tear will be gone, no longer a threat—”

“Roxy,” he said, interrupting her rapid-fire words. The soft lights from the Tear were pulsing faster, indicating her heart was racing. Her fingers around his hand were white-knuckled.

She blinked, swallowing, then said, “Please, Kieran. You have to.”

Dread filled him. “Have to what? Stop dancing around it and tell me. I get the part about Dyfyr being immortal and using the Tear to become mortal. But how does he get the Tear out of you?”

“Dyfyr needs you to let him emerge fully in you and connect with my chakras. Then he’ll use his magic to cut the Tear from my lifeline, and draw it into his own life force. He said our combined magic will heal the spot once he removes the Tear.”

Removes the Tear. It vibrated in his head. Jerking his hand from hers, he snarled, “You mean where he claws the Tear from your chest right over your heart?” He launched himself from the bed, his heart pounding, blood roaring in his ears. “Do you have any idea what those claws can do? How many rogues I killed with those claws? Not just killed”—he whirled around, so goddamned furious, he felt his veins popping out—“but ripped apart until their intestines were hanging out in bloody strips.” The dragon wanted to use those claws on Roxy? And what if the Tear broke inside her? She’d probably die in seconds! “Not a fucking chance!” He paced to the dresser, slapped his hands down on top, and said, “We’ll find another way.”

“No, we won’t. The Tear is Dyfyr’s magic, and my mother spelled the Tear to kill me. Either the dragon gets the Tear out or I die.” She swiveled around on the bed to face him. “And according to Dyfyr, it’s not just me that’s going to die.”

Key whipped around, his gaze latching on to her. Shit, she was pale, and he could almost feel her fatigue. But this was her life they were talking about! “What the hell does that mean?”

“I’m pregnant.”

He froze to the spot under the sheer weight of the words. Pregnant. With his child, their child. And she was going to die. He stared at her sitting on the bed, her arms wrapped around her bent legs. What she was asking? Use the claws to rip open her chest? He looked up to her eyes and felt his gut roll over. Dark circles made her look exhausted and gaunt. It was five A.M., she’d been depleted of magic, had marathon sex, and then used a tremendous amount of magic. She had that Tear in her sucking off her life force.

And now a child. A baby.

He crossed to the bed. “Dyfyr said you’re pregnant?” Dare he believe the dragon?

She barely moved, her gaze fixed on his chest. “Yes. And he would know, he’s the one that gave witches fertility.”

That ripped through his memories until he recalled her mother explaining how she had to wake the dragon. “Your mother said, It’s sex magic. You need your magic, then you call the dragon, he Awakens and fertilizes you.”

Roxy closed her eyes. “I should have realized

should have known. I just thought fertilize meant you spilling your seed in me.”

He stood there, helpless frustration burning through him. Roxy had dreamed of a family, desperately wanted that. Then she’d given up her dream to help him. And then, for reasons that still confounded him, she’d fallen in love with him. Trusted him. Believed him when he’d told her he wouldn’t leave her.

But now, he could feel her fatigue, loneliness, and fear. He didn’t have to read her mind to know that she feared he’d just cut his losses like her father had. He leaned over, scooped her into his arms, and walked toward the bathroom.

“What are you doing?”

“You’re exhausted, and I’m taking care of you.” He turned on the shower jets, adjusted them, then carried her into the warm spray. Her honey scent flared with a wisp of caramel as he washed her breasts, her belly, and deep between her thighs. Even tired and satiated she wanted him.