Magic Claims (Kate Daniels: Wilmington Years, #2; Kate Daniels, #10.6)

The kiss ended, and I would have staggered if he weren’t holding me.

He picked me up and carried me into the bedroom, slapping the balcony door shut behind him.

I wound my arms around him and kissed him again, tracing his mouth with mine. His lips pressed against mine, deceptively light.

“Lock the other door,” I whispered into his ear.

“Locked it when I came up.” His voice was a deep rumble.

He sat on the bed, with me in his lap.

Curran’s eyes were a molten gold. We’d been together for over a decade and yet they glowed with an intense searing need.

I slid my hand along his chest, under his T-shirt, feeling the strength in the hard muscle. Strong and warm… He cupped my cheek with his hand, lifting my head at just the right angle and kissed me again, slowly, deeply.

His hands slid under my clothes, stroking my back, pulling me closer to him, and I arched against his touch. Making love with him was more than sex. It was a connection, and I craved him like a woman dying of thirst craved a drop of water.

He pulled my clothes off and let them fall on the floor. The cold air kissed my skin. I shivered.

“Cold?”

He said it like it was a challenge.

“Yes.”

He stripped. “Let me help.”

Yes. I need help. So badly.

He pushed me onto the bed, trapping me under him. The heat of his big, powerful body warmed me, his chest almost searing my nipples. His hands slid along my body, cupping my breasts, stroking, teasing, touching. His thumb brushed against my nipple, and the glide of it sent little shocks through my body. His thick, hard length pressed against me.

He nipped my neck, just below the ear. “Still cold?”

I wasn’t. I was burning up, and he was the only cure. “Yes…”

He smiled. His body slid down. His hands pushed my legs apart. His head dipped.

Oh my God.

The wet heat of his tongue shrank the world to the insistent pressure between my legs. It built with each stroke, until it was so powerful, it was almost too much.

His fingers dipped into me, into the slick heat. He licked me again, and the pressure inside me broke into ecstasy. I floated in it, reveling in the pleasure and somehow shocked it felt that good.

“Need a minute?” he asked, smug satisfaction in his voice.

I pushed him to the side and onto his back. He let me, and I took him into my mouth, sliding my tongue over his blunt head.

He groaned, and the sound of him was so male and irresistibly erotic. I wanted to hear it again.

I sucked.

His hand slid into my hair.

Growl again for me.

I moved, licking, sucking, turning, teasing, pumping…

He snarled, grabbed me, and slammed me onto the bed, caging me with his body. His eyes were two burning coals. He pushed my legs apart and thrust into me.

Yes. That’s what I want. That, right there.

He built to a furious rhythm, and I matched him, cherishing every thrust. Another climax washed over me, dissolving into a sea of bliss. I screamed my way through it.

His body tensed, his muscles shaking. He came with a growl. I opened my eyes. He kissed me.

I loved him so much. My Curran. In the whole world, there was only one of him. I would do anything for him.

Later, as I lay wrapped in his arms, all my worries seemed far away. I felt strong and happy. I didn’t care what tomorrow would bring. Tonight it was just me and him, and nothing else mattered.





11





I found Conlan on the wall. He perched on the parapet as far to the west as he could get and still keep the house in view, a small, compact shape, easy to miss in the pre-dawn light. He was looking at the woods, where a green flag marked the direction of our march.

Inside the wall, on the street in front of the house, the shapeshifters were going through the last equipment checks before we set out. Each one carried a small packet of panacea, the complex herbal remedy that helped prevent loupism; knives or other weapons they’d been trained with; a canteen of safe drinking water; and packs of high-calorie trail mix, nuts, jerky, cheese, and chocolate.

Heather’s archers were going through a similar check. Penderton’s town guard had shown up this morning and informed us that they would be assisting. We got eight archers, and Curran had had to modify our strategy slightly to account for the surprise auxiliary. We were fielding fourteen shapeshifters, including Darin, my husband, and my son, and three not-shapeshifters—me, Rimush, and Jushur. Someone would need to protect the archers, and that someone couldn’t be me because I was taking point.

According to the old Google Maps, the site of the former hill lay about 19.7 miles away from Burgaw. The top walking speed of a human hiker was about three miles per hour. Expecting people to walk twenty miles straight into a battle was unrealistic. Everyone would be exhausted. Also, we would likely get hit along the way. If this was a hike through dense woods, we’d have to budget two to three days for it, but our situation was different.

We wouldn’t be cutting through the forest as the crow flies. We would be taking the old NC-53, heading west, and then we would turn onto US-421 North. Both roads were too overgrown and too damaged by the forest to be accessible by vehicle, but they still provided a relatively clear route for human hikers. There were other options, like Piney Woods Road or State Road 1332, but both of those were narrower and therefore in worse shape. Our route added another mile to our trek; however, walking would be a lot easier. Shapeshifters would have no problem, and Heather assured me that all of her people could handle the hike.

We weren’t the first group to try entering the woods via the old roads. Isaac had taken 421 too, at some point. But all those groups had had to wade through the territory claimed by the forest, and the farther in they went, the deeper the magic ran. Sooner or later, the power behind it managed to push them off the roads into the wilderness.

We wouldn’t have that problem.

The plan was simple. Go in until noon, less if we had to fight our way through. Stop. Make camp. Rest. Keep going. If the night caught us before we got there, we would camp again. Shapeshifters had an advantage in the dark, but I needed daylight. Also, I would be tired as hell by the end of this march, and a lot of that final fight was riding on me.

I put my hand on Conlan’s shoulder. Every muscle on his back was tight. He was like a kitten watching a butterfly dancing in the wind.

He glanced at me. “The archers will slow us down. And we have to protect them. We should leave them here.”

“Fighting a war involves more than just calculating the odds. I’ve claimed Penderton, but I told them that I would never interfere in their governance. The decision to send the archers came from the town council. They are volunteers, and they come as allies rather than subordinates.”

“It’s not safe for them.”

“Wars are not safe for anyone. They’re brave. We must respect that. How would you feel if we left you behind?”

He looked back at the forest. “You’re my parents. I can’t just wait here… I want to help.”

“So do they.”

“But they will make things harder for us.”

A little of my father coming through. I needed to deal with that here and now.

“For five years the forest has terrorized them. It killed people in the town square. It demanded human sacrifice. Yesterday, it killed two of their own right in front of them. A boy about Darin’s age who was guarding the tower in front of our house. A manticore grabbed him off the wall and broke his neck. How do you think they feel?”

He seemed to consider it. “They are angry.”

“People are ruled by their emotions, Conlan, and anger is one of the most powerful emotions we can experience. It can fester if you don’t vent it. Always take that into account.”

“Are you angry?” he asked.

“Very.”

“Because of the boy who died?”

“Yes. And because of other things the power in the forest has done. It has no regard for the value of life, human or animal. Your father and I will end this today.”

“Is Dad angry too?”

“Yes.”