Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 115860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
I wince. This will be an uncomfortable admission, but she deserves it. “You weren’t. I would never abuse your trust by sneaking a copy of myself into your bed.”
“Then why did I see two of you? Did I see your human self and your magical self at once? Can you separate them at will? What happened to your human half?”
Chapter
Forty-Three
“It’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.