Before, he simply nudged their surroundings, searching for the way out of the maze. This time, he actively molded the magic to create the image he wanted.
With a wave of his hand the darkness was replaced by a brilliant blue sky and dazzling sunlight. Another wave and the field was a carpet of green grass with a babbling brook in the distance.
“But first you need to rest,” he said.
“Oh.” The imp glanced around in surprise, her eyes widening as she glanced down at the daisies that were springing to life around his feet. “Does that always happen?”
He shrugged. “When I stay in one place long enough.”
She appeared oddly fascinated by the flowers that now began to spread among the grass.
“Amazing,” she breathed.
Magnus squashed the ridiculous urge to show off with a burst of power that would create a profusion of blossoms. Instead, he concentrated on creating a blanket along with several plates of food so Tonya could replenish her strength.
Taking her hand, he urged her to take a seat on the blanket, waiting until she was settled before he was joining her and reaching for one of the plates.
“Are you hungry?”
“I’m starving,” she admitted, taking the plate and studying the fresh fruit and bread that was dipped in honey. “Is it real?”
“Of course.”
She gingerly grabbed a slice of the bread, taking a bite. Her eyes slid closed as she relished the food without apology.
Magnus watched in fascination. This female was no delicate princess and yet there was a raw earthiness that enchanted him in a way he couldn’t explain.
“Yum,” she moaned, opening her eyes and leaning forward so she could press the bread to his lips. “Here. Try it.”
He pulled back, suspicious of her teasing. “What are you doing?”
“Don’t you want a taste?”
“I . . . yes.” He took the bread from her hand, his gaze never wavering from her face. “You puzzle me.”
She reached for a golden pear. “What do you mean?”
“One minute you are snapping at me and the next you are feeding me,” he said.
“You make me crazy,” she muttered, sinking her teeth into the soft flesh of the fruit.
Magnus groaned as she licked the juice from her lips.
Was she being deliberately provocative? Not that it mattered.
He was hard. Aching. The need to have her in his arms was a force that overwhelmed everything.
Including the fact that they were trapped in a druid spell.
“The feeling is mutual,” he assured her, leaning forward to wrap his arm around her waist.
Then, with one tug, he had her lying across his lap, the food forgotten.
He studied her with a brooding gaze, his hand cupping her face as he tried to determine what it was about this woman that continued to captivate him.
She trembled, her body molding against him with remarkable perfection.
“Magnus?” she breathed.
“Hush,” he murmured.
He didn’t want to talk. Or think. He just wanted to feel.
“Don’t tell me—”
He stole the words from her lips as he crushed her mouth in a kiss that demanded her complete and utter surrender.
Chapter Sixteen
Cyn shoved the gargoyle out of his way as they exited the portal in front of Styx’s lair.
It was bad enough to be traveling through some magical rip in the fabric of space without having the aggravating creature constantly beneath his feet.
With a flap of his wings, Levet scurried out of his way, turning his head to send a glare in Cyn’s direction.
“There’s no need to push,” he groused, his eyes abruptly widening, his snout flaring as he took in a deep breath. “Ah, Darcy is home. And Abby. I must—”
“Stay where you are, gargoyle,” the large Aztec warrior commanded, stepping from the shadows of a nearby tree.
Levet placed his hands on his hips, his tail stuck out straight.
“You are not the boss of me.”
“Thank God,” Styx muttered, folding his arms over his chest as he glared at the gargoyle. “You, however, are going to do exactly what I say. Got it?”
Levet stuck out his tongue. “Bully.”
Cyn stepped toward his king, his body angled to put Fallon behind him. Not that he thought Styx had any intention of harming the Chatri princess, but there was no battling the primitive need to keep other males at a distance.
“What’s up?”
“I don’t know for sure,” Styx admitted, offering a brief nod to Dante who had moved to stand on the other side of Cyn, his gaze constantly scanning the dark street for any sign of danger. “Before I came to your lair I’d discovered an imp sneaking around my estate.”
Dante gave a short laugh. “You’ve had a lot of fey loitering since the Chatri royalty decided to use your lair as their personal hotel.”
“Don’t remind me,” Styx growled, belatedly glancing in Fallon’s direction. “No offense.”
“What about the imp?” Cyn asked, skimming over the awkward moment.
Interspecies relationships were always challenging.
The temperature dropped as Styx bared his fangs. “He was related to Damocles.”