Do You Believe in Magic

chapter TWENTY-EIGHT



Pain!

Francie jerked upright in the bed, almost doubled over, her hands pressing into her center. Spasms of agony radiated from it to all parts of her body. She could barely get her breath. The distress diminished as she rubbed, and she realized Clay was sitting up also. Even in the not-quite dark, she could see he was massaging his breastbone.

“What happened?” she panted. “Where did that come from?”

“I don’t know,” he answered with a hoarse, shaky rasp. “I was dreaming of you . . .”

“I was dreaming about you . . .”

“And I felt this horrible need . . .”

“And I wanted you so badly . . .”

He turned toward her and flipped the covering sheet down to the end of the bed. He reached out his hand toward her chest. “Does it hurt?”

She reached toward his chest. “Not so much now. Does yours?”

Their fingers touched each other’s center at the same time. Energy surged between them, as if a circuit had been completed, and they both gasped.

Her gaze leaped to his. Rainbow lights began to play around them, and in the brightness she could see his gaze turn hot, his expression become fierce. He moved between her legs with the speed of a panther, pushed her down flat, mounted her, then entered her with a powerful, passionate thrust that forced a cry from her throat. The raw energy raging in their centers roared down their bodies and through this new link, completing the final circuit.

Both cried out again as lightning coursed through them, but their eyes remained locked on each other’s and their hands maintained the initial contact on their centers. For a long moment, neither stirred. Then the spectrum burst around them, and Clay began to move with great driving thrusts that raised her off the bed. She wrapped her legs around his thighs and, curving like a bow, rose to meet him.

She was drowning in his molten silver eyes, coming apart under the force of his savage possession. And she reveled in it. More, her body screamed. More!

Tightening every muscle she owned when he was fully inside her, she bore up on him, trying to take more, to get closer, to make herself such a part of him and him such a part of her they could never come apart.

The energy rushing between them raced faster, threw off sparks, doubled and redoubled in power.

It was agonizingly painful.

It was excruciatingly exquisite.

They seemed to be melting, flowing together, reaching for something, reaching . . .

Until . . .

There it was, there, there, there.

Fusion.

The light around them changed, became only red, then rippled through the spectrum. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet.

Silver. Gold. Pure, dazzling white.

Blinded, she screamed, her body arching to his as ecstasy rolled through her like a huge tidal wave and hammered her hips against his.

Her convulsion triggered his own.

The brilliant white light rendered him sightless, but he didn’t need vision to pour himself into her, empty himself, in contractions that went on and on and on. Exhilaration, exaltation, and absolute joy speared through his body, increased with every tight hug in her embrace, and exploded into sheer rapture.

He was certain he was dying. No one could stand this much pleasure and live. When they had touched each other’s center, he had been suddenly filled with a lust that turned his cock into granite and produced an overwhelming need to bury himself in her. His only remedy for the wild desire, his only solace from the potent pain, would be with her, in her.

As they joined and he felt the soft, hot clasp of her body, saw the golden flames in her smoky brown eyes, and shook from the intensity of the energy surge, he knew they would never be completely apart again. The link had been melded in a white-hot crucible and forged into permanence with hammer blows of enormous power.

When sight and sanity returned, he found himself lying on her, his face buried half in the pillow and half in her neck. Her arms lay limp around him, as did her legs. He didn’t want to move. He wasn’t sure he could. He could reach her neck with his lips, so he kissed her, felt her pulse beating with his tongue. Her hands flexed and so did her inner muscles.

The little jolt of electricity resulting from the small squeeze gave him the energy to rise to his elbows. He looked down into her eyes, all smoky again. “Are you all right?”

Francie nodded, although it was difficult to move. She had to clear her throat to speak. “I . . . I think so. What was that?” The knowledge came to her unbidden, but certain, with such a depth and rightness, it could not be denied. “That was power, magical power, wasn’t it?”

“Had to be. When I’ve cast a really powerful spell, I’ve gotten a buzz, but I’ve never felt anything like it. We could have lit up Houston.” He gave her a little kiss, then frowned. “Where did it come from? We woke up hurting, and I remember reaching for you. It started when I touched your center and you touched mine, didn’t it? An energy surge?”

“I think so. It was like we were connected.” She broke their eye contact and looked around, running her gaze over his body. “Clay, I can still see some lights around us. They’re faint, but they’re there.”

He turned his head to the side. “You’re right. Hold on, let me slide off you.” He maneuvered himself and her so they were lying on their sides, facing each other, legs intertwined. He was still inside her, but their chests did not touch.

“Let’s try it again. You touch my center and I’ll touch yours.”

They touched. Both jumped at the slight zap, but they didn’t break contact.

“That was like an electric shock,” Francie said. “And I feel the tingle all over inside. I think the lights are brighter.”

Clay glanced down their bodies. “Yeah, they are.” He studied the lights for a few seconds. “What this looks like to me is a magical aura. I’ve seen one on Daria when she has spelled herself. The lights form sort of a frame, shaped like your body, but standing off it a little. Do you see it?”

Francie raised her head to peer around. “Yes. Take your hand away.” They cut the contact. “That dimmed the lights quite a bit, but not entirely. I still feel, oh, I don’t know, ‘current’ running inside me.”

“So do I. But we’re still connected.” He looked down their bodies to the place where they joined. He withdrew from her slowly. Both caught their breath at the moment of separation. “No current.”

“Me, either. The lights are dimming, but still there. Scoot over until we’re not touching at all.” When they split completely, Francie said, “They just went off entirely.”

“For me, too.” He flopped over on his back and rubbed his chest. “Well, that was the damnedest thing I ever saw or experienced. I know Dad says being soul mates just gets better all the time, but if we go through this every time, it’s going to kill us both.”

She propped herself up on an elbow. “If the imperative’s causing this, it didn’t hurt us, did it? I mean, I feel fine now—exhausted, but fine.” She yawned, a big jaw-breaking yawn that she felt to her toes.

“Yeah.” He copied her yawn, then stretched up and looked at his bedside clock. “Two in the morning. Let’s get some sleep—if the damn SMI will let us.” He lay back down and pulled her into his arms. “Do you see any lights?”

“No. Everything is dark again,” she answered.

“Good.” He snuggled her closer.

Francie felt him fall into sleep. She yawned again, as she considered the previous minutes. What had happened? Except for absolutely stupendous lovemaking, what? The two of them, when literally together, created some sort of “aura” around themselves. Would this continue, or would the lights fade over time? What did the surge of power mean?

Had the SMI done something to her? She didn’t feel any different. Well, no, that wasn’t a correct statement. She did feel different, in a state of absolute well-being. Well loved and in love. As if she was complete, had found her other half. A little hum in her center seemed to confirm these notions.

As for the magic? The lights, the lightning between them? It must have been the SMI sealing the bond between the two of them. Daria had said the First Mating did that very thing. She, Francie, had assumed the process was just one act of lovemaking, but Clay was treating it like it was a series of acts, like a honeymoon. What had he said? “We have a First Mating to enjoy.”

His reasoning made more sense. The First Mating wasn’t one event, but a series. The last event, with the lights and the power, was the culmination of the bonding. Clay had received more power. She had received her soul mate. It was all magic.

As for herself being able to cast spells? She almost snorted in self-ridicule. Such a notion was too fantastic.

She yawned again and felt his arm tighten around her in response to her movement. She couldn’t help smiling even as sleep overcame her.