Read Online Cast in Hellfire: An Urban Fantasy Romance (The Mage Craft Series Book 2) by S.M. Reine - Free Book Online
Authors: S.M. Reine
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fours. She barely managed to keep her right hand out of the bile puddle, which was tinted red from the wine she’d been drinking. “Gods,” she rasped, clutching her throat.
Seth dropped beside her. “Are you okay?”
“I should have held my breath longer.” It felt like she’d inhaled lava. She wanted to touch her tongue to see if it was blistered, but the idea of touching her mouth when it hurt so much was appalling.
“You shouldn’t have gotten hurt. I’ve never gotten hurt doing that.”
She swiped at her mouth with the back of her hand and gazed blearily around the street. Marion had managed to shift one of her contact lenses out of alignment when they’d teleported, too. She had to blink a few times to get it to slide back into place.
Yes, they were in Las Vegas. They were outside the shopping mall across from a hotel that she assumed to be the Trump Tower, given the large, gaudy letter T emblazoned on the sidewalk.
“You’re a planeswalker like Nori,” she said, gulping back another surge of nausea. “I don’t get sick when I go with Nori.”
“I don’t think it’s the same thing. I’m not confined by the ley lines.” Seth lifted Marion from the ground. She swayed into his grip, unable to stand alone. Her legs felt like they might melt underneath her.
“Stop it,” she said, pushing at him.
He peered closely at her face. “Stop what?”
“Stop being so close to me. I threw up. I must smell awful.”
“I was a doctor for over ten years,” he said. “I dealt with a lot worse than vomit from my patients.”
Marion locked her knees, trying to stand upright. “I’m not your patient anymore.”
He didn’t let go of her. One of his hands was curved around her neck, his palm rough against the soft skin, thumb resting against the underside of her jaw. He was staring very intently at her neck.
“Checking for a pulse?” she asked faintly, trying to smile.
Seth’s hands dropped to his sides. “Sorry.”
“Next time you decide to teleport me, I’d appreciate warning,” Marion said. It was a little easier to breathe now. She wiped her hands off on her jeans. “At least we got here quickly. Now let’s see about finding this Dana McIntyre person, shall we?”
“I think we already have,” he said, gaze fixed across the street.
Even Marion recognized the sound of flesh slapping against flesh and the crunch of bone.
A window shattered outward. A body flew out of the Trump’s lobby, smashing into the divider and crumpling on the pavement.
A second body followed, landing atop the first.
Seth pushed Marion behind him. “Stay back.”
Magic fizzled over the street, swelling so hard and so sudden that Marion nearly gagged on it. It was gaean magic, a human creation, but it fed on such rage that it nauseated her.
The remaining glass shivered, then pulverized. It rained to the sidewalk outside of the Trump’s lobby in a wave of shimmering glitter. Then the person who had cleared it out of the frame stepped over the remnants of the frame.
She could only be described as fat, and she wore it with authority. Leather and black cotton stretched across her rock-solid body. The woman was busty, with virtually no waist because her core muscles were built as solidly as the pillars of the Coliseum. Stone gauntlets gripped her fists, her forearms. The spells originated from the gemstones set into those gauntlets. Electric magic lanced up her armored shoulders and crawled over the skin of her round cheeks.
Her hair was cut short, very short, and the spikes were dyed bright blue. Her eyes were hard. Her nose was button-like, almost cute, although Marion suspected that describing her in such words would have been a great way to get one of those gauntlets shoved down her throat.
She stalked toward the people she’d thrown across the street, crushing glass under the heels of her studded combat boots. Leather straps swung from her belt like a Roman gladiator’s skirt, punched with metal
Seth dropped beside her. “Are you okay?”
“I should have held my breath longer.” It felt like she’d inhaled lava. She wanted to touch her tongue to see if it was blistered, but the idea of touching her mouth when it hurt so much was appalling.
“You shouldn’t have gotten hurt. I’ve never gotten hurt doing that.”
She swiped at her mouth with the back of her hand and gazed blearily around the street. Marion had managed to shift one of her contact lenses out of alignment when they’d teleported, too. She had to blink a few times to get it to slide back into place.
Yes, they were in Las Vegas. They were outside the shopping mall across from a hotel that she assumed to be the Trump Tower, given the large, gaudy letter T emblazoned on the sidewalk.
“You’re a planeswalker like Nori,” she said, gulping back another surge of nausea. “I don’t get sick when I go with Nori.”
“I don’t think it’s the same thing. I’m not confined by the ley lines.” Seth lifted Marion from the ground. She swayed into his grip, unable to stand alone. Her legs felt like they might melt underneath her.
“Stop it,” she said, pushing at him.
He peered closely at her face. “Stop what?”
“Stop being so close to me. I threw up. I must smell awful.”
“I was a doctor for over ten years,” he said. “I dealt with a lot worse than vomit from my patients.”
Marion locked her knees, trying to stand upright. “I’m not your patient anymore.”
He didn’t let go of her. One of his hands was curved around her neck, his palm rough against the soft skin, thumb resting against the underside of her jaw. He was staring very intently at her neck.
“Checking for a pulse?” she asked faintly, trying to smile.
Seth’s hands dropped to his sides. “Sorry.”
“Next time you decide to teleport me, I’d appreciate warning,” Marion said. It was a little easier to breathe now. She wiped her hands off on her jeans. “At least we got here quickly. Now let’s see about finding this Dana McIntyre person, shall we?”
“I think we already have,” he said, gaze fixed across the street.
Even Marion recognized the sound of flesh slapping against flesh and the crunch of bone.
A window shattered outward. A body flew out of the Trump’s lobby, smashing into the divider and crumpling on the pavement.
A second body followed, landing atop the first.
Seth pushed Marion behind him. “Stay back.”
Magic fizzled over the street, swelling so hard and so sudden that Marion nearly gagged on it. It was gaean magic, a human creation, but it fed on such rage that it nauseated her.
The remaining glass shivered, then pulverized. It rained to the sidewalk outside of the Trump’s lobby in a wave of shimmering glitter. Then the person who had cleared it out of the frame stepped over the remnants of the frame.
She could only be described as fat, and she wore it with authority. Leather and black cotton stretched across her rock-solid body. The woman was busty, with virtually no waist because her core muscles were built as solidly as the pillars of the Coliseum. Stone gauntlets gripped her fists, her forearms. The spells originated from the gemstones set into those gauntlets. Electric magic lanced up her armored shoulders and crawled over the skin of her round cheeks.
Her hair was cut short, very short, and the spikes were dyed bright blue. Her eyes were hard. Her nose was button-like, almost cute, although Marion suspected that describing her in such words would have been a great way to get one of those gauntlets shoved down her throat.
She stalked toward the people she’d thrown across the street, crushing glass under the heels of her studded combat boots. Leather straps swung from her belt like a Roman gladiator’s skirt, punched with metal
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