She was lying on top of Caine, her hands fisted into his tousled hair and her mouth pressed against his. His soft, warm lips were electrifying, sending a different kind of heat through her—one that she liked. She forced herself to inch back, and stared into his eyes, trying to catch her breath.
Caine’s breath warmed her neck. He murmured, “Apparently, your spirit wanted to get her hands on me, but not for fighting.”
Her dress was torn, hiked up to the waist. Heat warmed her cheeks, and she said the first thing that popped into her head: “This is why I don’t wear dresses.”
His eyes blazed with a pale light, and he trailed his fingertips down her back, leaving a trail of tingles. “If you’re going to straddle demons in the woods, you might as well show a little leg.”
Oh, gods. She’d just pushed him onto the forest floor and assaulted him. And he’d clamped the ring back on her finger. For an incubus, that must have taken an awful lot of self-control—or maybe she wasn’t his type.
Caine glanced at the mud and dirt coating her body, and whispered a spell. As he spoke, his aura whispered over her skin. She watched the muck lift into the air.
As much as Caine’s aura soothed her, the thought of the mage inside controlling her body made her stomach turn. She unclenched her fingers from Caine’s hair, gazing into those glacial eyes. “You shouldn’t have made me take it off. I don’t want that thing inside me, forcing me to do things against my will. Just like Bileth.”
He frowned. “Forcing you to do horrible things like kiss me.”
“Exactly.” Seven hells. If the other novices knew what she’d been getting up to, they’d celebrate her downfall. The golden Hunter, covered in alchemical tattoos and mud, straddling an incubus in the Salem woods.
His hand slipped around the back of her neck; at his touch, another electrical charge sparked through her skin. “And yet, I don’t see you jumping off me very fast.”
Shit. He was right. Embarrassment warmed her face. She leapt up, tugging down her hem. Though, really, it was probably a little late to reclaim her dignity now. “I don’t know what happened. I couldn’t stop the witch.”
He propped up on his elbows. “You can’t expect to master it right away. You need to be stronger than the spirit.”
A ghost of that crazed blaze still burned in her mind. Her fingers trembled as she brushed the leaves off her dress. “That’s not the kind of war I know how to fight. She’s completely crazy. I’m not taking that ring off again. Not until I get the spirit out.”
“She’s absolutely not crazy. Jumping on top of me was the first sensible thing I’ve seen you do, and honestly the first time I’ve seen you enjoy yourself.”
She shivered. Didn’t he realize? The agony had been unbearable. “My body was on fire.”
He flashed a smile, and she knew he was thinking of the kiss.
“I don’t mean with lust. I mean my skin was literally charring, and so were the trees. My body was blistering with flames.”
He arched an eyebrow. “When you were on top of me?”
“No, before that. I was angry. Enraged. And everything was aflame. And then when I—when the mage jumped on you, I guess she felt something else. The pain subsided, and it felt calm again.”
“See? I’m magic.” He rose, pulling a stray leaf from his hair. “Maybe the flames were a vision of your future if you give yourself back to the Brotherhood. I don’t know what else it would be. Your spirit isn’t a fire mage. Ambrose said you tasted of hawthorns.”
Rosalind nodded. “She’s a forest mage. That explains all the tree stuff. I should have felt it through her aura, but it’s too intense for me to even think straight.”
“My spirit worshipped Nyxobas. Yours was aligned with Druloch, the god who lurks in the woods’ dark shadows.”
“The mage was drawn to the darkness. Something about the cycle of life and death. But the flames were so strong. She must be using fire magic.”
“It’s not possible. There are three shadow gods—sea, night, and forest. They’ve been warring with the gods of fire and light for millennia. That means there’s no way you’re connected to fire magic.”
The sea god. A chill whispered over her skin. She’d scented a sea-witch on the Thorndike Campus. Could that mage be connected to all this? Something told her not to mention it to Caine. It was entirely possible that Rosalind was responsible for yet another mage’s capture, and she had no way of knowing if that mage had been evil or just another poor idiot caught up in things beyond her control. She wanted to change the subject. “I’m not well versed in the shadow gods and fire gods. I’ve only been taught about Blodrial, the one true god.”
“Blodrial fell from heaven after the celestial wars, just like the others. The only thing that sets him apart is that he doesn’t believe humans should speak Angelic.”