This Wicked Magic - By Michele Hauf Page 0,43

and her chin tilted up. He held her from behind, painfully wrenching her head. “Sneaky,” the demon growled. “Let’s take that magic to the streets. This dark witch won’t let me tap into his magic. He’s strong. But I know his bitch isn’t as strong. Come on.”

An arm about her neck, he tugged her from the kitchen. Vika would not go peacefully. She dropped her body weight, forcing the demon to drag her. And she grabbed for everything they passed, clutching a stool and slowing his progress.

“I like you, red one. You’re a fighter! You’ll bring lovely chaos to the streets of Paris.”

“You’ll never make it to the streets!” she yelled, finding her anger gave her strength and determination.

As he dragged her over the threshold, she gripped the door frame with both hands and strained to keep hold. She shouted, “Harrahya xum!” A spell to focus her power.

That repulsed the demon and sent him stumbling toward the stairway. He gripped for the wall, his fingers sliding, and Vika winced. If he fell, it would be CJ’s body that took the damage, and she didn’t want that.

Sending out her air magic, she swept it around and behind the demon, teetering him on balance as one of CJ’s boots slipped off the step. He fell forward, landing on his palms. Flipping back his hair, he grinned menacingly and crawled toward her, red eyes narrowed.

The lights flickered again. Vika shouted, “Lumos!”

Inside the loft, all the chandeliers lighted. And stayed lit.

She scrambled across the threshold just as CJ grabbed her about the ankle. Out in the hallway the bright lights flickered on. The demon howled and let go of her. Shuffling beneath the safety of the prismatic lights, Vika waited to see what would appear around the corner.

CJ’s hand slapped the threshold and clawed to drag his body forward. “Sorry,” he muttered.

Vika’s heart fell. “CJ?”

“I’m back.” He crawled over the threshold. His fingers bled, as did the cuts on his face and his biceps. Reaching her, he looked her over, his hand sweeping up her body and to her face, where his shaking fingers barely touched her. “Mon Dieu, did I hurt you? Please forgive me.”

She grabbed his hand and pressed his palm to her cheek, feeling shivers overwhelm her now she knew safety. Cold and wet, her heartbeats pounded. “Hell, CJ, I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

He dipped his head to her lap and wept.

Chapter 10

“You’re shivering,” CJ said to Vika.

He tugged off his shirt, which clung to his body and felt like a dirty shroud after being controlled by the pain demon. His blood soaked the shirt and his pants, but thanks to numerous healing spell tattoos on his body, his wounds were already scarred.

“Take off your clothes and I’ll put them in the dryer. I’ll get a blanket.”

He went to the closet behind his bed, leaving Vika to disrobe, if she would. He wanted to step away from her for a few moments to give her some space. He’d tossed her around like a ragdoll—Pain had. He wouldn’t blame her if she turned and ran from here and never returned. He hated he couldn’t control the demon from within, though he had been able to hold on to his magic. If the demon had gotten its mind over that, nothing would have been safe.

And had he almost pushed Vika down the stairs? He slammed his forehead against the closet door frame, cursing himself. Because it was his fault. He was the one who had purposefully journeyed to Daemonia and had brought back the means to torment Vika.

Grabbing a folded blanket from the shelf, he turned to find a wet witch standing right behind him, her sodden clothes in hand and her lips shivering. She wore a bra and held her clothes before her bare loins, and looked like a drowned kitten.

He couldn’t dream to look at her in a sexual manner. Instead, he wrapped the blanket around her shoulders and hugged her against him. “I’m so sorry.”

She didn’t say anything. He felt her cold lips touch against his collarbone.

“Slip your underthings off and I’ll have them dried in a bit. I’ll make hot tea. Can you forgive me, Vika?”

“Wasn’t your fault.”

She managed a weak smile, but he sensed she’d been pushed to some edge and had fallen. Wrapping the blanket about her, she then performed a bra removal without exposing herself to him.

“I’ll toss them in the dryer.” He dangled the sheer white bra. “Does this need special care?”

She

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