A Lost Light (The Bestiary #4)

8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Aahil

I had no idea what I was doing right now. Maybe it was just the knowledge that I was more in control—both of myself and my fire—than I had been in some time. Maybe that explained it. A return of confidence and my own sensual nature.

Maybe I was simply brain damaged.

Or maybe , it was time to admit that I was just very attracted to people with power. I had always been accused of being shallow, perhaps I should just embrace that quality. Yes, that was it. This desperate feeling, this clawing need to do this now. It must all be driven by the dark magic inside my target.

Regardless of the why , I was almost as surprised as the necromancer, when I found myself in the library holding the taller man pinned against the bookshelf. It was as though I had been compelled to follow him. To finally figure out what this strange tension between us really was.

I had certainly rebelled at the idea that I might be attracted to the corpse-whisperer, at least at first. And yet, my eyes were drawn to the contrast of my red-brown skin against his perfect paleness, every fiber of my being zeroed in on the feel of his cold smoothness against my searing heat.

My dick was rock hard.

He didn't react to my sudden appearance and assault. The irises of his violet eyes were rimmed in a slim ring of wraith black, but his expression was calm. As if this were simply any other afternoon. As if he had expected this.

“What have you done to me?” I hissed, applying a bit more pressure to my grip as I pushed up onto my tiptoes, leaning into his space. “What dark magic have you cast on me, necromancer? And why? I am not one of your mindless undead slaves to be pushed about and held under your thrall.”

His blood red brows raised, the first show of emotion since I had appeared in this room. “Magic?” he asked, his deep voice carrying a rather convincing amount of confusion. His prominent Adam's apple vibrated under my palm and my fingers tightened on the long column of his throat.

“Don't lie to me, necromancer,” I hissed. The old, familiar darkness coiled deep inside me, waking from its recent slumber. I remembered what it was like to be a slave. This man was powerful. Dangerous in a way that others didn't realize. He was a very strong magic user, yes, but also a learned one. One who had vast experience with hiding in the shadows and being what he was while remaining undetected. He had subtlety. He was sly. And that was the most dangerous magic of all.

Had he been slowly, subtly controlling all of us, all along? But to what end?

A big, cold hand wrapped around my wrist, long fingers curling over my skin, illustrating the size difference between us. He might be slim, but he was more than capable of pushing me around, if magic wasn't involved. And yet, he didn't shove me off him. He simply kept me from leaning in any further, from crushing his windpipe.

“Aahil? What the hell are you talking about?” he asked with a tired sigh. “Is this your way of saying you need help with your magic again? Sounds like the paranoia is back.”

I growled. “I'm not crazy.”

He swallowed, his throat working under my hand, his dark aura whispering to me like a thousand barely-heard ghosts, beckoning me to some untimely end. “Says the man who is currently attacking me for no reason,” he said dryly.

His tone of voice didn't fool me. I was a fire jinn. And part of my power lay in sensing and manipulating the most primal and heated emotion that living beings possessed. I could sense his arousal. The way his body yearned for my fire.

We had both been dancing around this ridiculous attraction for a long while now. But why did it suddenly feel so… desperate?

“What is this?” I hissed, not releasing him, stupidly pressing my body closer, so there was no question of what I meant. So that we could both feel the effect we had on one another. For some cursed reason. “Why do I burn when I look at you? When by all rights, I should shiver in revulsion.” And why did I feel so out of control today?

“Aahil….” Dyre lifted his free hand and reached toward me, but I grabbed his wrist and slammed his arm against the bookshelf, pinning it there with a growl.

“Answer me,” I demanded. “Is this some spell of yours? Why would you bother to manipulate me this way? Why do I feel like I might crawl out of my skin if I can't have you?”

I sounded stupid and desperate, even to my own ears. But I just couldn't ignore this anymore. And I was a fire elemental. Why should I hesitate to take what I wanted… as long as it wasn't a trap.

“It's no spell, you little terror,” he said, the tension leaving his long, lean body as he melted back against the bookshelf… submitting. He quirked a wry smile my way, but those violet eyes were full of heat. “I suspect you've got a power kink, jinn. Are you really that oblivious?”

I wanted to scoff at him. But I was distracted by how my thumb dragged over his wrist, caressing the chilly skin there, feeling the sluggish pulse under my touch. Wondering at how easily he let me hold him down. “Fuck you,” I murmured, unable to call up quite the level of bitterness and fury I was going for.

I considered carefully while the necromancer patiently waited in my grip. Hasumi had been teaching me to identify emotions. It was a silly exercise. But the water weaver insisted it would help me heal the trauma of my past and build stronger relationships. Nonsense. But I had to admit, on some level, they were right. Often, I reacted without fully knowing why I did what I did or why I burned so brightly at the time. Hasumi's little lessons helped me check myself. Usually.

So I stood still and drew in a slow breath and tried to figure out what it was I was feeling. Tried to sort through the jumbled nonsense in my brain. Dyre had not cast a spell on me. That was nonsensical. For one, I was very good at sensing magic. I would have sensed him casting an enthrallment spell, sneaky or otherwise. And also… I actually did trust the eerie witch not to harm our cozy little family of freaks, myself included.

Then what was it?

My mind traveled back to the moment I had first felt this sinking sensation in my gut, this clawing need to do something against some threat. It had been in the courtyard. When Dyre demonstrated his connection to his new pet, and I thought of how I had already lost Andy and Hasumi to the poor, pathetic angel, and then…. Realization dawned.

No. Oh, no. Absolutely not.

Jealousy was not something I was used to feeling. But I was pretty sure if Hasumi were here to parse through the emotions that coursed through my body that was what the smug know-it-all would call this.

I had wanted Dyre for a while now. I denied myself. I enjoyed the game we were playing, knowing one day something would come of it and it would be all the more exciting for the waiting. I couldn't begrudge Andy and Hasumi their need to tend to lost, wounded souls. They had helped me find myself again. Of course they would fall all over themselves to help the angel. I tried to bear it. But the realization that the angel was about to steal Dyre's attention from me as well… it was just a step too far. It felt as though I was about to lose this half-formed potential between us before it even had a chance to bloom.

Pathetic. Disgusting.

Dyre licked his lips, and I found myself staring at the soft, dark blue skin there. Drinking in the chiseled outline. Wondering if he tasted like the ancient, forbidden power that pulsed under his skin. I closed my eyes.

If I wasn't reacting to some nefarious spell, I could come up with a single explanation for why I was currently here, acting like I had lost my mind. But it was ridiculous. Jealousy . Impossible. Utterly absurd. I'd rather die. “This is utter idiocy,” I muttered.

And still, the necromancer didn't try to push me away, or fry me with magic, or escape in any way. I shifted my grip on his neck and his long, shiny red hair caressed the back of my hand where it had come unbound to fall over his shoulder like a waterfall of blood. “I agree,” he said flatly. “Complete stupidity.”

I met his violet eyes again. Did he suspect my absurd motivation? His eyes glowed faintly, and his magic felt… unsettled… against my own. I narrowed my eyes. I felt so shaken, so surprised by my own reactions. But I certainly wasn't confused about the signals I was getting from the arresting man before me.

A smile curled my lips upward, and I reveled in the pure, decadent wickedness of what I was, pushing a little allure his way, a bit of jinn heat to warm his cold soul and stir things up. Perhaps we could avoid discussing my embarrassing reason for being here and just move on. “Is this what you like, necromancer?” I purred, my fingers caressing the side of his throat as I continued to pin him to the bookcase. “A witch so powerful as you… and you want to be dominated?”

His slow smile was as wicked and dangerous as any jinn. He shrugged, his voice nonchalant. “I don't really consider myself submissive or dominant. Kind of in between, maybe? I don't have much to go by. When it comes to sex, I'm there for the experience.” Then his grin deepened. “But I'm not the only one in this body.”

His dangerous smirk didn't waver as the wraith stepped forward. Overwhelming darkness rippled over my skin as Dyre's eyes bled from bright, vivid violet to pure black. The necromancer's usual blood witch aura was submerged and nearly banished by the hungry darkness that took its place.

I sucked in a breath. I still held the necromancer against the bookcase. But I no loner felt like the predator. I was now the prey.

Rather than fear, a renewed shot of lust rolled through me. Perhaps he was right about my attraction to power. I tilted my head back, giving the ancient evil being my best bored look. “You know,” I mused, suddenly understanding a bit more about myself. “I don't usually feel mortal. Jinn are so strong and long-lived that we might as well be immortal. This feeling is… new.”

I felt downright fragile in this creature's presence. It made me realize suddenly how easily I could be snuffed out. It was terrifying and yet thrilling at the same time.

Hasumi could contain my magic. Zhong felt safe because I knew he could physically restrain me if the need arose. But Sunshine could completely and utterly consume my soul and wipe me from existence. He could undo everything I was.

“Dyre is fascinated with you, little jinn,” the wraith informed me, snapping me out of my stupid introspection. “I will not deny him his desires.” The eerie multi-layered voice of death and darkness deepened, dropping all pretense of joking. “However, if you harm my host—if you hurt him in any way—you will have me to deal with. Do you understand, little spark-wielder?”

I shivered involuntarily. “Yes,” I heard myself whisper.

I didn't want to hurt him. Not really. That urge to destroy had been largely erased over the past few months. I just didn't want to be left behind.

The wraith studied me with his black eyes, and I tried to rebuild my defenses so he couldn't see the soft, squishy thing I had become. Then he bent his head and kissed me.

Fuck. There was danger, and then there was danger. Darkness drifted through me, called to all the hidden, secret fears and desires inside me. I moaned as I leaned into the kiss, suddenly ravenous. My fire magic flared, rising up inside me, fending off the darkness, making me burn.

And then the wraith withdrew. It was a strange sensation, knowing that I was now kissing a different man, even though our positions had not changed. The lips against mine softened slightly. The grip on the wrist of the hand that held his throat loosened. And I felt his smooth, cold skin warm slightly under my searing touch.

His aura changed too, from pure ancient blackness to dangerous witch steeped in dark magic. And yet, my need never wavered. Some small, scared, pathetic part of me trembled and begged to be seen.

Dyre lifted his head, and the eyes that met mine were once more pure violet. The wraith might watch, but the witch was in control once more. I was surprised to see wariness on Dyre's sharply handsome features. His body still sang with arousal, and he hadn't kissed me like a man who was having second thoughts just now. And yet…

“What?” I demanded, firming up my grip on his throat and his wrist, using my body to hold him in place.

He swallowed, and I could tell the all-powerful necromancer was struggling not to appear nervous. “Did you figure out what you were after?” he finally said, his deep voice carefully even.

I narrowed my eyes at him, tilting my head to study him, my eyes noting the way the pulse beat in the visible blue tracery of veins just under his jaw. I smirked as I met his eyes again. “I thought that was fairly obvious,” I said, lifting one brow, trying to hide my shameful feelings. Trying to play the part of jinn tempter. “You, under me, incoherently begging for whatever pleasure I see fit to provide.”

His long, lean body shuddered, and his eyelids fluttered closed. “Aahil, be serious. I'm not like Andy. I don't have the energy for games.”

I finally released his wrist, though I kept my other hand around that marvelous long, white throat. “I haven't a fucking clue what you are rambling about, necromancer. But I won't repeat myself.” I lifted my chin, reminding myself what and who I was. “It's not every day a jinn of my caliber propositions a lowly witch.”

He huffed a wry laugh, his flat belly jumping against my torso. “Oh, I'm duly honored, Your Majesty, don't get me wrong. I just…” He sighed and finally met my eyes again. “I'm not exactly anyone's idea of attractive. I assumed you had just realized it was Sunshine you were after. Not me.”

Ah.

Suddenly I saw what Andy must see in this frustrating conundrum of a magic user, and I didn't feel quite so ashamed of my own stupid emotions. Did he actually believe all the things people said about his kind? Did the man never look in a mirror? Yes, he was the exact color of a corpse. I'm sure to some, the dark midnight blue of his teeth and nails, and the bluish undertones of his pale skin might be off putting. But only if that person had lived under a rock their entire lives and never encountered a non-human. The man was gorgeous.

Yes, I had made jibes at him myself. But no one took me seriously.

Did they?

Groaning, I released Dyre and ran a hand over my face in frustration, once again hating who I had been most of my life.

Dyre didn't move from his place against the bookshelf. If anything, he wilted. His tall body hunched inward for a moment before he unfolded and forced himself into that haughty ramrod posture that I knew someone had probably drilled into him at some point, hiding the pain of the perceived rejection. Oh, I knew that act very well. “Yeah,” he said, his face going blank. “I get it.”

Fury was overtaking my embarrassment.

How did Andy ever deal with these morons she was so in love with? It was mortifying enough that I had stormed in here unable to overcome my stupid impulses. But this... Was he joking right now? Was he trying to test me?

I stared at him. Was he really going to make me say it? Panic clawed at my chest, warring with my fury and my wanting. Damn it all. Why was this whole affection thing so horribly awful?

He was going to leave. I could see him preparing to slink off somewhere and nurse his wounds as he turned away. Because he was wounded at the thought that I didn't actually want him. He thought I only wanted the wraith, the dark power inside him.

Moron.

Growling again in frustration, I dematerialized, transporting myself a few steps away, blocking Dyre's escape. Planting a hand on his shoulder, I took the necromancer with me when I dematerialized again.

Taking someone along with me wasn't easy. And if the necromancer had wanted to prevent it, he probably could. But he came willingly, and we didn't have far to go. We landed on the nest of cushions and blankets that made up my bed, Dyre on his back and me straddling his hips. “Listen very closely,” I warned impatiently. “Because I will only say this one time. I've wanted you for a long while now, and you know it. I've seen how you watch me. You know I watch you too. You aren't that oblivious.” I planted my hands on his t-shirt clad chest and leaned forward, nearly choking on my words and the unaccustomed honesty. “I simply won't stand idly by while you get so wrapped up in your new angelic pet that you forget I exist.”

His eyes widened as what I was saying sank in. I didn't give him a chance to talk again. Or to judge me. Or to continue to wallow in self-pity. Leaning forward, I planted my hands on his chest and kissed him, hard.

He froze in surprise. Then he melted under me with a delicious little whimper. Smiling, I drew back and studied his face, enjoying the way his long red hair spilled out beneath him and his violet eyes nearly glowed. “Do you understand now, idiot witch? Or will you truly force me to continue to chat ?”

He shook his head, his throat working as he swallowed convulsively. Apparently, I had kissed him mute.

Good.