Visions of Skyfire (6 page)

Chapter 7

“T
alk to me while I do this,” she said, already shuddering as she set the tips of the forceps against his back.

He nearly smiled despite himself. His brave, hotheaded witch was feeling a little queasy at the idea of becoming a doctor. “About what?”

“I don’t know—” She broke off, took a deep breath to settle herself and said, “Dark zones. The phrase sounds familiar somehow. You said we were in one. What do you mean?”

Her small hand came down on the bare flesh of his back and he felt an instant sizzle that almost dwarfed the pain that began a heartbeat later. Her touch was heat, fire. The cold steel of the forceps digging into his body was ice.

Rune called on his immense self-control to manage the pain shooting through him. Pain was nothing new to him.

Through the eons, he had been stabbed, sliced and shot so many times that pain was as familiar as his own reflection in a mirror. But his witch was daunted by the task at hand. So he talked. To calm her. To take both of their minds off what was happening.

“Dark zones can be found all over the world,” he said, pausing as she pulled a bullet from his back and dropped it unceremoniously to the floor. “They’re spots where magic is muted.”

She took a deep breath. “You mean I can’t use my powers while we’re here?”

“No, I mean that magic is hard to track in a dark zone. Those who are after you won’t be able to use their devices to home in on your position.”

She paused and he felt her surprise. “They have devices to track magic?”

Anger shot through him as he looked back at her and saw the expression on her face, the fear glittering in her eyes. Best she know now exactly what they were up against. Their enemies had come a long way from the Salem witch trials.

“They do. The international community has banded together,” he told her wryly. “Apparently the fear of witchcraft is enough to make friends of ancient enemies.”

“Great,” she murmured, digging into his back again. “Peace at last.”

He chuckled, despite the situation. “Scientists and engineers have been working together—along with a few captured, tortured witches—to build devices that pick up on a certain type of energy.”

“The magical kind.”

“Exactly.” He hissed when she dug deep, then forced himself to relax when she muttered, “Sorry.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he told her.

“Only a few more.” She worked for a moment longer, then asked, “What causes these dark zones?”

“No one’s sure,” he replied. “Here in Sedona it might be the red rocks—ancient energy formed by wind and sun and rain, trapped within the sandstone. Nature’s energy is stronger than any human knows.”

“That I believe,” she said. “My
abuela
taught me to respect the earth. To treat her with reverence—” She paused.

“What else did she teach you?” Rune asked, knowing that Teresa needed the distraction as she continued to pull jagged shards of white gold from his back.

“How to use crystals, herbs, potions,” she murmured. “Mostly, though, she taught me secrecy.”

“Wise woman,” Rune acknowledged.

“Yes, she is. So tell me how you know where these dark zones are.”

“When your power is stronger, you’ll be able to feel the difference. It’s …” He tried to come up with a way to describe it through the fog of pain muddying his thoughts. “It’s a little like a thick coating of syrup on the air. Makes things feel heavier to your senses. Once you’re in one, you’re safe from electronic tracking, but not from the old-fashioned hunter.”

“I’m guessing the feds still use plenty of those.”

“They do indeed.” Another bullet made a
thunk
as it hit the floor. As each piece of white gold left him, a portion of Rune’s strength returned. His powers were rejuvenating, though it would take either rest or sex with his mate to bring him back to full strength.

“Great. Okay, then, what do we do once you’re patched up?”

“We leave.”

“Yeah, I figured that part out. But to go where?”

Rune lifted his gaze to hers and saw the worry flashing behind the bravado she showed the world. Something in him shifted. For far too long he had carried around a taut knot of anger toward her. This soul that should have been his other half and wasn’t—because of unwise decisions made eight hundred years ago.

Now he looked at her and felt an easing of that old rage. This woman was not the one who had chosen so poorly. This soul had grown and learned over hundreds of incarnations. Perhaps this time she would be strong enough to right old wrongs. To end the surge of power streaming from the demon dimensions.

“You have the answer to that,” he told her flatly. “Our destination is locked in your memories. So tell me, Teresa. Where do we go?”

She blew out a breath and sat back on her heels, dropping the forceps into the medical bag. “That’s it. They’re all out.”

“Yes.” He took a deep breath and felt his body begin to regenerate. “Now, lay your hands flat on my back. Cover as many of the bullet holes as you can.”

To her credit, she didn’t ask questions, just moved to do what he asked. He felt her touch slide deeply into him and relished the blast of heat she brought. Amazing that a being created of fire torn from the heart of the sun could spend so many centuries feeling cold.

But with Teresa’s touch, that cold was abated. Magic, he thought with satisfaction. The blending of two mated souls.

“I can’t heal with touch,” she warned him.

“No, but our powers together will do the job. Concentrate your magic on my injuries.”

He watched her over his shoulder, saw her center herself, then close her eyes to focus better. Then he drew on the fire and in an instant, flames jumped to life on his skin. As they danced across her hands and his back, he felt the healing swiftly overtake him.

Teresa’s eyes opened wide and she stared down at the quickening flames covering her hands. She watched as the ragged holes in his body sealed over and became smooth again, as if he’d never been shot at all. And still the flames burned, covering her palms on his back. She took a breath and let it slowly slide from her lungs.

“That’s amazing,” she whispered. “The fire doesn’t burn.”

“No,” he said, allowing the flames to flicker and fade away as his body was healed. “Not unless I will it. I
am
the fire, Teresa. The flames are what form me. And what I am will never harm you.”

She pulled in another deep breath and studied his face as if coming to a decision. Nodding, she said, “I believe you. Your back is healed over. Not even a scar.” She trailed the fingertips of one hand across his skin as if checking for flaws she couldn’t see. “But your power was drained by the white gold, right?”

“Yes.”

Lifting the hem of her shirt, she pulled it up and over her head, tossing it to the floor. “All right, then. We’ve got to get you healed completely. I know about the sex magic between a witch and her Eternal. My
abuela
told me that sex drives your power. Right?”

“That is true,” he said, gaze dropping to the swell of her breasts, hidden behind a plain white cotton bra. Through the fabric, he saw her pebbled nipples and his hands itched to touch her. His mouth watered for the taste of her. “We were made as two halves of the same whole. When we join, our powers grow and our strength increases. We are mates, Teresa. Bound by the fires of creation. Sex is the most intimate of joinings, twining our powers together, creating strength. The Mating ritual binds us even more deeply—but my magic is too depleted at the moment to begin the ritual.”

“The ritual is more than sex?”

“Yes. Much more.”

“But sex alone will give you back your strength.”

“It will.”

“Then we’re having sex. Right now.” She unhooked her bra and tossed it aside, baring her breasts to him unself-consciously. Then she stood and before he knew it, she had whipped off her boots, jeans and panties, standing before him completely naked with the dignity and pride of a young queen.

She was magnificent.

“You amaze me,” he said as his body tightened in an agony of need. He’d had no idea his witch was this strong. He had expected her to be afraid and anticipated that she would be hesitant to take hold of their shared destiny. Instead, she had been expecting him. She’d defied him. Helped him. And now she offered herself to bring him back to full strength.

This witch, this woman, had the inner strength of a warrior. She would do whatever was necessary to survive. His admiration for her matched his desire.

He ran one hand up her naked calf and she shivered. Her brown eyes were shadowed, but her expression was determined. “Take your clothes off, Eternal.”

With a snap of his fingers, his clothes disappeared and he rolled over onto his back to look up at her. He felt the fire in him roaring at the promise of sex with his mate.

Teresa dropped to the floor, then straddled him to cover his body with hers. Rune grabbed her and pulled her even closer, his hands coming down onto her hips and holding tightly as if to keep her from changing her mind.

But his witch was nothing if not single-minded. She smiled at him and whispered, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Then she raised up on her knees and his hands slid from her hips to her thighs, loving the hot feel of her skin beneath his palms. His cock was hard and ready. His breath stilled in his chest. If he’d had a heartbeat, it would have staggered as she slowly lowered herself onto him.

Heat at her center welcomed him. Liquid warmth drew him in, higher and higher as she took all of him inside her. When he was fully sheathed within her, she paused, allowing each of them to experience the sensation of being completely joined.

Everything in Rune roared for completion. To claim this woman. To give. To indulge in the many varied ways he’d dreamed of having her. Instead, he forced himself to be still, to allow his witch to lead and drive them forward. To set their pace. To accept the inevitability of their union.

A moment later, she did just that.

Chapter 8

T
eresa struggled for air and fought for control. She hadn’t expected to feel so much or so intensely. Her
abuela
had prepared her for the life that she would live once she met her Eternal. What she hadn’t been prepared for was the incredible sensations coursing through her. She held him within her body and felt herself stretch to accommodate him. He was bigger than she had anticipated and for a moment she’d felt a surge of panic at trying to take him inside her. But the instant their bodies met, it was as if she had been waiting for that moment all her life.

Their bodies were like pieces in a puzzle. A perfect fit, each to the other. A connection swarmed between them like fireflies in the air. Threads of something old and true and potent wound themselves into a tapestry inside her, as if she knew him. As if she had
always
known him. There was a compelling sense of recognition that became stronger every moment they were joined.

Powerful magic sizzled and burned around them. Outside, rain still slashed at the windows and hammered on the roof like millions of tiny fists demanding entry. Somewhere in the city, hunters roamed through the night, searching for her. But here, in this small house in the middle of a dark zone, magic was alive.

Teresa inhaled sharply, then slowly swiveled her hips on him, creating a delicious sense of friction that bubbled through her veins like champagne. She shivered in response and looked down into pale gray eyes burning with hunger. He felt everything she did. She sensed that.

Yes, their connection was fragile, new, but it was there and time would only strengthen it.

She moved on him again and leaned forward when he lifted his hands to cup her breasts. His thumbs and forefingers stroked and squeezed her nipples, sending jolts of need through her system. She gasped, arching into him. “I feel …”

“Yes, you do,” he said and rose up to take first one of her nipples and then the other into his mouth. His teeth and tongue worked her already sensitive flesh. She held his head to her breast, pulled free the leather thong holding his hair back and then threaded her fingers through the thick, dark strands. It was too much. The feel of him beneath her hands. The swamping need his body created in hers. All of it.

Danger persisted at the edges of her mind, yet passion was in the driver’s seat. She couldn’t be bothered with witch hunters. Not now. Now, all she needed was the climax hurtling toward her.

She moved even faster, rocking her hips against his. And still it wasn’t enough. She had to have more. Faster. Deeper. Harder. Magic clawed at her. Need trumpeted inside her.

“I can’t go fast enough,” she finally managed to say, groaning as an agony of suspense clutched at her. Her body was coiled, tensed, and still straining for the orgasm that remained just out of reach.

“I
can
,” he promised, his voice a low growl of hunger. Instantly, he rolled her over onto her back and lifted her legs onto his broad shoulders.

Teresa’s breath came in short, quick gasps. She looked up into his eyes and saw flames pulsing in their depths. His features were taut, his jaw clenched with the same desperate desire that held her so tightly.

His hands slipped beneath her, lifting her behind, positioning her so that his first thrust went deeper than she would have believed possible. Her back arched and she called out his name on a shriek of pleasure that threatened to tear her in two. He was all. He was everything. And if she didn’t get that release soon, he would kill her.

As if he knew exactly what she was thinking, feeling, he moved in her, his hips pistoning, his body retreating and advancing with such speed that everything was a blur of sensation. She’d never known anything like this before. Didn’t know if she would even survive it. But if she died, Teresa told herself, it would have been worth it.