that.”
“Can you, now?” But he was already moving inside her, quick as lightning. “Lock the door.”
Gasping, she heard the lock snick , and smiled as he took her under again.
Chapter 10
Devin had shown Ari around the castle after eating breakfast with her in the kitchen. Quiet, simple, conversation to temper the heat. As much as both of them would have liked to stay in each other’s arms for the next few centuries, Raine was top priority. So he’d left Ari in the library pouring over his spell books while he continued his ritual of training every morning.
Taking a clay ball from his pocket, Devin whispered over the object until it sprung away and stretched into the shape of a man. The clay clone would have every power he possessed and remain the perfect training partner until destroyed. No one would ever have the upper hand on him again, not in battle or magic. Only one man had managed to best him. McKenna. With age, his anger at Daemon had cooled, but it was easy to remember that final battle between them.
Pleasure–intense, hot, always fascinating–sliced through him. Manifesting his magic into a diamond white fireball in his cupped hands, he allowed the power to drug him for just a moment before going on the attack. Devin studied his cousin and teacher, Daemon, standing across from him on the other side of the training ground. Here his father Laird Duncan McLoch sought his warriors training. Devin dutifully joined them in daylight with his blade. Dusk had fallen, the men of the clan gone to tend other matters. Devin lit the torches surrounding the area to continue his instruction in magic secretly away from those who would cast shame on him – namely his father.
I am a witch. A damn good one.
And he intended to be the best. He’d been born with magic. It wasn’t something he craved, but he had it just the same. Why not use it to his advantage? To him, magical ability was no different from the power his position within the clan afforded him. His Laird forbade him to use the devil’s gift. For all his wisdom and strength, Laird McLoch was a fool. Everything is a weapon.
“Do your worst, old man! I am ready.” Devin watched, intensely focused as the faerie materialized his favored weapon, a slim sword with a jewel-encrusted hilt. Running a finger down the blade, Daemon imbued it with his power, turning the blade bright blue. After a few testing strokes, Daemon took a fighting stance and waited for Devin to do the same.
Expecting as much, Devin’s mouth curved into a smirk as he tossed the ball of fire high into the sky, where it shattered into dozens of white twinkly sparks. Daemon lacked cunning and it would prove to fail him now.
Rain whipped in wet drizzling ropes around him–Daemon’s way of trying to render his power useless.
Damn weather witch.
“Is that the best you can do? Flaming glitter? Child’s play. Come now, Devin. I expect more from you. Give me a challenge.”
The wind pitched to a roaring howl and tried to force him to his knees.
“As you wish.” Devin withdrew his heavy broadsword from its sheath smoothly, held it at the ready. Raising the sword high over his head, he pointed the blade upward. The glittering sparks turned dark red and swirled, gathering until they formed a red dragon made from flames. The monster of his creation wrapped its flaming self around Devin’s sword, threw back its head, and blew fire at Daemon. Surrounded by power, he charged Daemon, who immediately raised a barrier of crystalline blue water to protect himself. But he was clearly outmatched. Devin’s fire dragon wrapped around Daemon and squeezed.
“Enough already! Call off the dragon.” He struggled against its hold. Behind the power, Devin felt the licks of flame breaking through Daemon’s shield, marring the skin. Relenting, he smirked and sheathed his sword. “You give up too easily. Say it, cousin!”
“Fine. On this field of battle I yield to thy magic, oh mighty
“Can you, now?” But he was already moving inside her, quick as lightning. “Lock the door.”
Gasping, she heard the lock snick , and smiled as he took her under again.
Chapter 10
Devin had shown Ari around the castle after eating breakfast with her in the kitchen. Quiet, simple, conversation to temper the heat. As much as both of them would have liked to stay in each other’s arms for the next few centuries, Raine was top priority. So he’d left Ari in the library pouring over his spell books while he continued his ritual of training every morning.
Taking a clay ball from his pocket, Devin whispered over the object until it sprung away and stretched into the shape of a man. The clay clone would have every power he possessed and remain the perfect training partner until destroyed. No one would ever have the upper hand on him again, not in battle or magic. Only one man had managed to best him. McKenna. With age, his anger at Daemon had cooled, but it was easy to remember that final battle between them.
Pleasure–intense, hot, always fascinating–sliced through him. Manifesting his magic into a diamond white fireball in his cupped hands, he allowed the power to drug him for just a moment before going on the attack. Devin studied his cousin and teacher, Daemon, standing across from him on the other side of the training ground. Here his father Laird Duncan McLoch sought his warriors training. Devin dutifully joined them in daylight with his blade. Dusk had fallen, the men of the clan gone to tend other matters. Devin lit the torches surrounding the area to continue his instruction in magic secretly away from those who would cast shame on him – namely his father.
I am a witch. A damn good one.
And he intended to be the best. He’d been born with magic. It wasn’t something he craved, but he had it just the same. Why not use it to his advantage? To him, magical ability was no different from the power his position within the clan afforded him. His Laird forbade him to use the devil’s gift. For all his wisdom and strength, Laird McLoch was a fool. Everything is a weapon.
“Do your worst, old man! I am ready.” Devin watched, intensely focused as the faerie materialized his favored weapon, a slim sword with a jewel-encrusted hilt. Running a finger down the blade, Daemon imbued it with his power, turning the blade bright blue. After a few testing strokes, Daemon took a fighting stance and waited for Devin to do the same.
Expecting as much, Devin’s mouth curved into a smirk as he tossed the ball of fire high into the sky, where it shattered into dozens of white twinkly sparks. Daemon lacked cunning and it would prove to fail him now.
Rain whipped in wet drizzling ropes around him–Daemon’s way of trying to render his power useless.
Damn weather witch.
“Is that the best you can do? Flaming glitter? Child’s play. Come now, Devin. I expect more from you. Give me a challenge.”
The wind pitched to a roaring howl and tried to force him to his knees.
“As you wish.” Devin withdrew his heavy broadsword from its sheath smoothly, held it at the ready. Raising the sword high over his head, he pointed the blade upward. The glittering sparks turned dark red and swirled, gathering until they formed a red dragon made from flames. The monster of his creation wrapped its flaming self around Devin’s sword, threw back its head, and blew fire at Daemon. Surrounded by power, he charged Daemon, who immediately raised a barrier of crystalline blue water to protect himself. But he was clearly outmatched. Devin’s fire dragon wrapped around Daemon and squeezed.
“Enough already! Call off the dragon.” He struggled against its hold. Behind the power, Devin felt the licks of flame breaking through Daemon’s shield, marring the skin. Relenting, he smirked and sheathed his sword. “You give up too easily. Say it, cousin!”
“Fine. On this field of battle I yield to thy magic, oh mighty
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