Chapter 43
Chapter
Forty-Three
“ I t’s not like that,” I assure Sydney. “At the end of any magical being’s transition, the power that is uniquely theirs materializes, whether they want it or not. Mine is the ability to…ah, clone myself, it seems.”
“Amazing.” Sydney sits back against her pillows and draws her knees to her chest. “Yet you seem less than thrilled. If anyone should be rattled about all this, it’s me.”
“Given where you work and the stories you’ve been developing, you were much more prepared for magic’s emergence in your life than I, firecracker. Until Sabelle appeared in my living room to tell me that Lucan was ill, I was blissfully ignoring it all.”
She frowns. “Until Lucan’s illness, you avoided this war. You weren’t fighting at all?”
“No. I was in the States, living my best life. I had no idea what was happening here.”
Her expression jerks into a frown. “So for weeks—months?—the war has been raging, your people dying, and you stayed away?”
When the woman puts it like that, I sound cowardly. “They aren’t my people.”
“They are now.”
In name only. “I have a life and a job in Texas. I’m merely filling my brother’s shoes in the Doomsday Brethren’s ranks until we find Anka. He’s in no condition to fight.”
“Any luck finding her last night?”
Regret skitters through me. I don’t know what else I can do to locate my brother’s mate. “No.”
“I’m sorry. I know you’re concerned.”
“Deeply.” I rise reluctantly from the bed. “I should go. Will you be all right? Sabelle and Olivia should both be about.”
“Perhaps they’ll help me find a shower and a toothbrush?"
I smile softly. “I’ve no doubt. Then they’ll direct you to breakfast and keep you company.”
“Actually, I think I’ll work on my next story. Maybe I can trouble one of them for a computer?” She frowns. “Wait. Does magickind even use them? Why would they if they’re magical? I’ll ask for a pencil and paper.”
I freeze. “You can’t write about anything I’ve just told you.”
“Not until Mathias is vanquished and all is safe,” she assures. “I would never do anything to endanger you or your friends. I want to stay and help them, in fact. But this is amazing material.”
“Even after Mathias is stopped, it’s too dangerous. Bram will refuse to let you print a word.”
“I’ll be careful, change names and places…whatever necessary. But a story of oppression, war, and heroism is something all humans will relate to, even if it’s about magickind. Besides, getting this story into the open may benefit magickind, too.”
I rake a hand through my hair, largely to keep from grabbing Sydney and shaking sense into her. “By inciting panic? How do you think humans will react when they realize the bloke next door could be a wizard? Twenty-first-century witch hunts aren’t that far-fetched.”
“You’re being paranoid. Hysteria like that hasn’t happened for hundreds of years.”
“You can’t write this story.”
Why the devil don’t I tell her to negotiate this with Bram, let him be the bad guy? Magickind isn’t where I belong. Why am I feeling protective?
“You’d have me bury the biggest story of my career?” She crosses her arms over her chest. “The one incredible story that could make me and show my parents that I’m every bit as successful?—”
“I know you’re ambitious, and I know what this means to you, but exposing magickind to the humans will always be dangerous. No.”
She sucks in a breath and stands, her small curves outlined in gossamer ivory. “You don’t get to decide what I write.”
I want to refute that. Since transition, my instincts about Sydney have been insistently clawing at me. Seeing her nearly naked and passionate stirs my desire. Battling her defiance brings out my every instinct to claim her.
As Sydney sweeps past me, I grab her arm, staying her at my side. At the soft feel of her, my cock instantly stiffens.
Fuck, I’m so weak where she’s concerned. During transition, I surely had enough sex to be content for a few days. But even the suggestion that she might surrender to me slides heat across my inflamed senses. Blood pools in my cock. Thick desire muddles my thoughts until I can only focus on possessing her. Duke, Bram, and the others can wait.
I tumble her back to the bed. She gasps as I roll her beneath me and position myself between her thighs. We’re both wearing too many clothes, damn it. My jeans, her wispy little nightgown.
But I can fix that.
Lifting the hem of her gown, I stare into Sydney’s dark, stormy eyes, down at the parted berry lips luring me like a siren call. They look sweet and plump and perfect. They could be mine so easily, just like the woman herself.
I lower my head, then hesitate. I know— know —that she’s my mate. If I kiss her, the words will tumble out. As much as my instincts scream yes! , if I follow through, I’ll tie myself irrevocably to her, to magic, and this place. I’ll be stuck with a destiny I don’t want. And I’ll put Sydney in more danger.
With a growled curse, I lever myself up on shaky arms and settle on the edge of the bed, away from her. Bloody hell, if I’m not breathing hard.
My every muscle and nerve urge me to kiss her, spill the words, complete the deed. My head knows better.
“What was that about?” Sydney sits up and is suddenly at my back, melting me with her nearness.
“I should be training with the others.”
“You order me about.” Her voice hitches. “Tumble me into bed to change the subject, then avoid kissing me, as if I’m diseased.”
I stand and find her earnest face. There’s temptation; it’s so close. I step back and put distance between us. “Sydney, the more tangled up in you I get, the more dangerous it is for both of us.”
“That didn’t stop you from spending two days in my bed.”
I hesitate, hurt tingeing both her words and her expression. Sydney doesn’t often show her vulnerabilities. Now that she is, I have no good answer.
“Witches and wizards require sex during transition. Without it, they will die.”
The hurt deepens. “So I could have been anyone? Or was merely convenient because I happened to have that book you wanted so bloody bad?”
“No. I wanted you. ” I grab her by the shoulders. “Only you. Duke insisted I choose someone else to transition with me, and I refused. It was helpful that you had the book, but even if you didn’t, I would have insisted on being with you. I’m not a heartless cad. I care about you. But starting a relationship now isn’t smart if we want to stay alive.”
“Rubbish! Excuses. Every time we’ve had sex, you’ve more than hinted it was against your better judgment. I propositioned; you refused. After you beat down my door, you couldn’t run away quickly enough the next morning. The evening you bent me over my sofa, you couldn’t zip up and get me to the pub to talk to your ‘experts’ fast enough. Then your transition hit, and I happened to be the only woman handy. All along, you wanted to stop my story more than you wanted me.”
My jaw drops. “You’re mad. I want you until I can’t breathe, until my thoughts are tangled, until I could nearly die for not touching you. But I can’t have your death on my conscience. And I don’t want to hurt you when I leave.”
“Leave?” She blinks, clearly fighting tears.
I want to reassure her. But that’s pointless.
“Once your brother is well, you’re really planning to go back to Dallas?”
“Yes.”
“Alone?”
Saying the word will hurt us both, so I merely nod.
“Which leaves us nowhere.” She absently plucks at a stray thread on the coverlet to avoid looking at me.
“It’s for the best.” I will her to understand. The sooner she can safely leave, the sooner I can resume my normal life and put magic behind me. We can both live, if not happily ever after, at least without constantly looking over our shoulders.
“You’re being a coward.”
The slur pierces my chest like a flaming arrow. She doesn’t understand how much I fear mating or how much I hate magic. She’s never run happily through the grass with her laughing younger brother one moment, then watched errant magic hit him the next and die at her feet. She can’t fathom the devastation this war will bring. If I mate with her, she will be targeted for death. If I don’t find a way to exit this war soon, magic will not only change my life, but it will destroy hers for good.
Sadly, more explanations will only prolong the inevitable and change nothing.
“I’m sorry you feel that way.” I straighten my clothes and don my trainers.
“For the first time in my life, I thought I was falling in love with a man who liked and understood me, who didn’t think my theories were crazy. Who supported me. Even my own parents don’t.” Her voice is a low thing that throbs with pain, striking my heart. “If you’re going to kill my hope, help me understand.”
Love? She might love me? Bloody hell. Yet isn’t the reverse true? If I really consider the situation, I’m falling for my stubborn, brave, intelligent, and loyal-as-hell reporter.
What a bloody mess.
“They’re waiting for me on the training field.” I back toward the door. “You won’t believe me, but I never meant to hurt you.”
I cast one last glance at Sydney, looking so soft and kissable among the rumpled bed. Then, before I do something reckless, I leave, closing the door with a soft click behind me.