As they stood in Salem Woods, the wind rushed between birch and ash leaves, and Lilu circled overhead.
Caine stood across from her in the grove. Before they’d left, he’d created a new outfit for her—black jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. Of course, because he was Caine, they fit her like a second layer of skin. But at least if the spirit wanted to jump his bones again, Rosalind wouldn’t end up with a skirt around her waist.
Caine looked down at her. “When you take off the ring, I want you to imagine the mage’s aura inside your mind. Concentrate on trying to condense it smaller, so it no longer takes over your whole body. I want you to imagine it as a ball of light, right here.” He touched her sternum, and her skin sparked at his touch.
“Is that how you stay sane?”
“Eventually I figured it out,” he said. “Are you ready to start?”
“I thought we would learn some spells first.”
He shook his head. “The mage already knows the spells. I’m going to prompt her to think of them, and then you need to draw on her knowledge.”
“What if she tries to assault you again?”
“I don’t mind.”
“I don’t want it to happen.” Sure, Caine was beautiful, but it wouldn’t be Rosalind kissing him. It would be the mage. On top of that, she knew better than to get involved with an incubus. “What happened outside Elysium was just strategic so you could heal. And anyway, we’re here to learn magic so we can save the captives, not to get distracted by having fun.”
“Fine. If you’re worried about what the mage will do, I can tie your arms and legs.”
Just like Mason used to do when he beat the crap out of me. “No way.”
“It would help keep you safe. If she wants to do something against—”
“—I said no. The whole idea of it makes me want to stab you with another hawthorn stake.”
He glanced at her shaking hands. “Gods below. What’s wrong with you?”
Shit. Why was this coming up now? She didn’t need to dredge up her screwed up childhood with Caine. “It doesn’t matter. I’m just overtired. Let’s get on with what we need to do.”
“Fine. I’ll keep control of the spirit. And when we get home, you need to eat and sleep, because you seem like a mess.”
“It’s been a rough night.” Understatement of the year, right there.
“You’re a warrior. Your enemy has made a move, and its time for you to fight back. Muster your mental strength and take off the ring.” He closed his eyes, marshaling his patience. “Please take off the ring when you choose to.”
She twisted the ring around her finger, trying to work up the nerve. “If I seem like I’m burning, will you touch my shoulder or something? It seemed like your aura helped stop the pain.”
“Of course.”
After closing her eyes, she yanked the ring from her finger, shivering at the tumultuous presence of the aura. It swirled through her body, skimming over her skin with a tingling and buzzing. Tendrils of green unfurled in her mind like spectral ferns.
Rosalind tried to curl them up again, forcing them together into a small sphere, but the aura wouldn’t obey. In the heavy spring air, her body vibrated with exertion.
The spirit was winning, forcing her to move, making her open her eyes. She stared up at the stunning incubus. Pearly moonlight filtered through the oaks, dancing on his smooth skin, glinting in his pale eyes.
The spirit wanted Rosalind to run her hands over his strong, tattooed arms, his perfectly muscled chest. But it wasn’t just how he looked. Something in his aura drew her closer, like a gravitational pull. The spirit knew his aura.
She took two steps, slipping her arms around his neck, reveling in the warmth coming off his body. She thrilled at his sharp intake of breath when the spirit pushed Rosalind’s body against his.
She studied his face, and the ethereal silver aura spiraling skin. Another soul lay inside the incubus, one the spirit knew well. “Richard.”
His muscles tensed, a hint of confusion in his beautiful eyes. “Cleo.” He gripped her forearms. “Rosalind. You need to control the aura.”
His touch sent thrills through her body, but the spirit looking out through her eyes didn’t like the name Rosalind.
“That’s not my name,” she warned, her voice laced with venom, no longer her own.
His grip tightened. “Rosalind. I need you to gain control. Close up her aura.”
The aura surged through her body, and her voice came out low, strangely accented. Her arms tightened around the incubus. His body was rigid against hers, and she tried to pull his head down for a kiss, but his perfect lips were out of his reach.
He swallowed hard, closing his eyes, and took a steadying breath. “Rosalind. Crush the aura.”
The spirit forced her to stand on her tiptoes, but she couldn’t reach his mouth. “Richard. I missed your touch, but I like your new body better.”