Spellbound

One

A quarter to midnight, the witching hour, Christmas Eve

There was an indefinable something about the tall, darkly clad man traversing the sidewalk. That mysterious quality compelled lingering glances from every window-seat reveler in Richie’s Diner. He appeared not to notice, his gaze direct and unwavering, his purpose set and immutable.

It was hard to pinpoint what it was that arrested attention. Was it the impressive breadth of his shoulders and the way his inky black locks hung past them like a mane? Was it the way he moved with sensual purpose, every stride elegant yet predatory? Or was it his face, classically yet brutally gorgeous, all hard planes and angles, rigid jaw combined with beautifully etched lips?

Perhaps it was simply that it was Christmas Eve, a time when he should be home, warm and safe with the ones he loved. Not out in the snow, alone and unsmiling.

He had eyes of gray, like a brewing storm, and an air of complete confidence that clearly stated he was not a man to be crossed without penalty.

“That man could fuck a gal to a screaming orgasm. Guaranteed,” Richie’s wife said breathlessly to her cousin.

“Where do I sign up?”

The diner was closed to customers, yet filled to capacity with Richard Bowes’s family and friends. Children manned the soft-serve machine, making shakes, while the men cooked and told bawdy jokes in the kitchen. Frank Sinatra sang holiday songs through the speakers, and laughter filled the air with the joy of the season.

Pausing at the corner, the hunk outside held out both arms, and a lithe black cat that had not been visible from the window booths jumped agilely into his embrace. It had been snowing hard earlier and featherlight flakes still drifted in the random gusts, yet the animal’s luxurious ebony coat was unmarred by the weather. The man, too, did not appear to be wet or cold.

He held the feline with reverence, his fingers rubbing behind its ears and stroking down its arching spine. It climbed his chest and looked over his shoulder, emerald green eyes staring back at the diner occupants. Nuzzling the top of its head against his cheek, the cat seemed to smile smugly at the coveting gazes from women in the diner.

There wasn’t a single Bowes female who didn’t wish to be that cat.

For a long moment, the flashing Christmas lights in the windows cast rainbow hues on glossy fur and rich locks, creating a unique yet beautiful holiday scene. Then the man continued on.

He crossed the street and rounded a corner, disappearing.

Max Westin growled softly at the feel of a rough feline tongue stroking rhythmically across the sensitive skin behind his ear.

“Kitten . . . ,” he warned.

You’re delicious, Victoria purred in his mind.

“I can see why upper-level warlocks don’t keep Familiars.” He held her closer to ease the sting of his words. “You’re a distraction.”

I’m necessary, she retorted, laughing. You couldn’t live without me.

He didn’t reply; they both knew it was true. He loved her with a deep, saturating abandon and relished the bond they shared as warlock and Familiar. She was with him every moment, her thoughts and emotions melding with his, her power augmenting his. Even when physical distance separated them, they were always together. He couldn’t breathe without her anymore. She was a part of him, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Once a Hunter for the Council that ruled over all “magickind,” he had been assigned only the most difficult of tasks—vanquishing those who had crossed over into black magic and could not be saved. He had been groomed to join the Council, an honor bestowed so rarely that few remembered the last time such a promotion had occurred.

Then, They’d tasked him with one last assignment—collar or kill Victoria St. John, a Familiar driven feral by grief over the loss of her warlock.

Max would never forget his first sighting of her and how powerfully she’d affected him. Slender and long-legged, with green sloe eyes and cropped black hair, she had the inherent sensuality of a cat and the body of a woman built for sex.

A deeply rooted part of him had known she belonged to him from the moment they met. Some part of her had known it, too, yet they’d played a cat-and-mouse game until it could not be played any longer. Until the Council stepped in and forced them to make a choice—the Council’s dictates or each other.

Neither of them had hesitated to choose their love, regardless of the penalty.

I feel them, she said, her throaty voice bereft of the teasing playfulness of a moment before.

“Me, too.”

The Triumvirate. They were responsible for the death of Victoria’s previous warlock, Darius. He, too, had been groomed for the Council, the last warlock so honored before Max had caught Their notice. Angered by Darius’s decision to pair with Victoria instead of accepting a Council seat, They had retaliated by sending Darius and Victoria after the Triumvirate alone.

Darius should have refused, knowing his death would be the inevitable outcome of such an uneven match. He should have fought to stay with Victoria, to protect her from the machinations of the Council.

That’s what Max would have done.

Yet you hunt them now, she murmured.

“For you.”

It was the promise he’d made to her when he claimed her for his own—her submission in return for his destruction of the Triumvirate. She had not asked it of him until he insisted, but it was a Master’s prerogative to ensure that his sub had what they needed to be happy. Victoria needed closure; he would give it to her.

I love you.

He felt the undeniable truth of her feelings deep in his soul. The shining brightness of Victoria’s love was so powerful that it kept the darkness inside him in the shadows where it belonged. Skirting the edges of black magic was perilous, because the dark side was seductive. If he didn’t have Victoria to anchor him, Max wasn’t sure what he would have become over the centuries.

“I love you, too, kitten.”

The snowfall picked up again, making it hard to see. The wind grew colder, blowing on the diagonal, pelting flurries at them from the side. They should be home, entangled naked before the fireplace, sweating from carnal exertion. Not shivering from a chill that came as much from the inside as the outside.

Shielding them in magic, Max kept them dry as they turned the street corner and then again into a trash-strewn alley. The sudden blizzard was a show of force from the Triumvirate, a reminder that the three brothers were forbiddingly powerful. It was two against three as it was, but the odds were less favorable than even that. The Triumvirate drew power from the Source of All Evil. Max and Victoria had only each other. When their resources were depleted, they would have no other recourse. The Council would not help them. They’d refused to sanction this battle, knowing it was what Max and Victoria wanted more than anything. When it came to holding grudges, the Council was in a class by itself.

Is it worth it?

He paused midstep, startled by her thought.

Victoria leaped down from his shoulder to the wet pavement. She altered form instantly, leaving her standing before him naked and endlessly alluring, her only adornment a black ribbon around her neck.

His collar. The sight of it and the knowledge of what it symbolized aroused him with violent alacrity.

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” he rasped, admiring the ripe, curvy perfection of her lithe body. With a snap of his fingers she was clothed from head to toe in formfitting black Lycra. Her figure was his to enjoy and no other’s.

When they met, she’d been too thin, a manifestation of neglect wrought by centuries spent without a Master to care for her. Familiars needed to be fed and groomed, stroked and indulged. They also needed discipline, and she’d had none, not even with Darius, who, despite his extraordinary power and skill, had been too flexible to control a Familiar as willful as Victoria St. John.

“I’m not sure I want to do this, Max,” she said, stepping into his arms.

Power pulsed through his veins at her nearness. He’d made love to her for hours today, using their bond to store much-needed reserves for the battle ahead. Every time she climaxed, magic burst through him, enhancing and doubling before returning to her, creating a cycle that made them feel invincible together.

“But we aren’t invincible,” she argued against his unspoken thoughts. “And I can’t lose you. Your life isn’t worth the risk. I can survive in a world with the Triumvirate. I can’t survive in a world without you.”

“This is what you wanted.”

“Not anymore.” Her lush mouth thinned with determination. She was so beautiful, her eyes a brilliant green surrounded by thick, ebony lashes. “For a long time, my desire for vengeance was the only thing I had in my life. My only reason for living. You’ve changed that, Max.”

His hand pushed into the super-short strands of her hair and cupped the back of her head. “Tonight is our best chance to vanquish the Triumvirate for the entire year.”

The world was filled with joy and love, with celebration and happiness, with the prayers of the believers and the hope of the nonbelievers. Mortals felt the change, although they didn’t understand how real it was. The Triumvirate’s powers would be diminished, a tiny advantage Max and Victoria desperately needed.

“Forget this year, and the next,” she said with tears in her eyes. “Don’t you see? I love you too much. Vanquishing the Triumvirate won’t bring Darius back, and even if it could, it still wouldn’t be worth it. That part of my life is over. You and I have a new life together, and it’s more precious to me than anything.”

“Kitten.” Max’s throat clenched tight. He hadn’t thought it possible to love her more than he did, but the sudden ache in his chest proved him wrong. For centuries she’d sought a way to avenge Darius. Now she was willing to give up that quest. For him.

“How touching.”

The grating voices of the Triumvirate swirled around them, rattling the protective bubble that shielded them from the snow. The force required to affect their warding spell was enormous, and Max inhaled sharply as Victoria was prompted to add her strength to his.

A shiver coursed down the length of her tense frame. Max felt it and soothed her with his touch, stroking along the curve of her spine.

“We can do this,” he murmured, grimly determined.

Her hands fisted in his shirt. “Yes.”

Max pressed a quick hard kiss to her forehead. She released him and took a place beside him, her fingers linking with his.

Before them in a line stood three hooded figures, their eyes glowing red from within the shadows of their cowls, their height well over seven feet tall, their frames rail thin but possessed of phenomenal power.

“Perhaps we’ll take you this time, pretty kitty,” one rasped at Victoria, laughing. His face was white as chalk and heavily lined, as if the skin were slowly melting off the underlayer of bones.

“Not on my life,” Max challenged softly.

“Of course not,” another cackled. “What would be the fun otherwise?”

The Triumvirate’s unified front and appearance magnified the feeling that one faced a veritable army when they opposed them. While other demons and hellhounds were routinely discarded and removed from the Source’s favor, these brethren had been immutable in the Order of Evil for centuries. Most magickind had come to see them as a fixture as permanent as Satan. They simply were and would always be.

In a lightning-quick movement, Victoria crouched and extended her arm, expelling a fiery ball of magic to hit the brother in the center. Almost instantly, two retaliatory strikes shot toward her from the left and right, the strength of the blows enough to rock her back on her feet despite the wards around her.

Max lunged forward, both hands out, returning fire. Victoria again attacked the one in the middle, resulting in the Triumvirate taking simultaneous hits.

If not for Darius’s gift to her, Victoria would be unable to do more than stand beside Max and strengthen him, as she’d done the night Darius had been killed. But now she carried the strength of the fallen warlock inside her. Darius’s power thrummed through her blood and enabled her to fight like a witch with Familiar augmentation. Max hoped that would be enough to save them both.

The Triumvirate retaliated as one, advancing one step at a time, sending volley after volley of ice-cold black magic to batter Max and Victoria’s defenses.

But they did not retreat. As they struggled to keep the wards in place and return fire, sweat dotted their brows despite the raging blizzard. The Triumvirate howled their fury, seemingly unaffected by the assault against them.

Victoria glanced at Max, saw the set of his jaw and the corded veins in his temples as he poured gray magic out of his fingertips in crackling arcs of energy. He focused on one brother, his shoulders curling inward with the force with which he projected the power inside him.

As the insidious streams penetrated dark robes and charred moon-pale skin, the targeted brother screamed in agony. His siblings rushed to his aid, concentrating their attention on Max. Victoria continued to attack in the hopes of attracting fire in her direction. But in the face of the possible loss of one, the Triumvirate took her hits with admirable resilience.

The wards around Max began to ripple and bend, bowing to the greater might levered against the exterior. Blood trickled from one of his nostrils and his pain invaded her chest like a white-hot spear. Victoria wept, her stomach clenching with mindless terror. Memories of the night she’d lost Darius mingled with the horror of the present moment, creating a nightmare unparalleled.

The Triumvirate was too strong. Max would die.

Victoria screamed, unable to bear losing him.

Centuries alone . . . Afflicted by grief . . . Then Max had entered her life. Changing everything. Changing her. Making her whole again. Soothing her restlessness. Loving her despite her faults.

How will I live without you?

Then, with alarming swiftness, a solution presented itself in her mind, offering a slender ray of hope.

She could repeat the spell Darius had used, transferring the bulk of her power to Max. He would be stronger then, able to save himself and get away.

Do it.

Summoning every drop of magic she possessed, Victoria began to incant the spell she’d never forgotten. Could never forget because they’d been the last words Darius had spoken.

Pulled by an invisible thread, her power drew up and gathered, the sensation dizzying in its strength and strangeness. Her lips moved faster, the words flowing more freely.

“Victoria!” Max yelled, his shields moving sinuously in a herald to their rapidly approaching destruction.

It was her fault he was here, fighting a battle that was hers alone. It was love for her that had brought him to this end. It would be her love for him that would spare him.

“Max.” Magic burst from Victoria in an explosion so powerful it brought her to her knees. It hit Max with such violence his body jerked as if physically struck. His wards restored to their rigid state and his bending arms straightened with renewed strength.

She gave all that she had to him, saving nothing for herself because her life would mean little without him. She wouldn’t survive his loss. She’d barely survived Darius.

Max roared in triumph at the sudden, heady rush. A thin layer of warding separated from the one that shielded Max. It grew in size, expanding outward, encompassing the Triumvirate and preventing reinforcing power from the Source from reaching the brothers.

Unable to recharge his depleting strength, Max’s target fell to his knees, crying out at his impending vanquishing.

Victoria watched through tear-filled eyes.

The Triumvirate draws strength from their numbers.

Darius’s voice drifted through her mind. She and Max weren’t alone. There were three of them, just as there were three of the brothers. And it was Christmas Eve. They had a fighting chance.

Using the very last of her strength, she sent one last volley toward the nearest brother. The impotent force of the blast was barely enough to draw his attention. But as she sank to her knees, his laser-bright gaze locked fully on her. She felt the satisfaction that gripped him at the sight of her weakened state. He would assume her support of Max was affecting her. He didn’t know it was already too late.

Steeled for the inevitable blow, Victoria made no sound when the piercing evil of his strike sank deep into her chest, chilling her heart and slowing its beat. She bit her lip and fell to her hands, holding back any cry that might distract Max at the moment of triumph.

The alley began to spin and writhe. Another punishing blast struck her full on the crown of her head, knocking her to her back. Her skull thudded against the gritty, potted asphalt, and her sight dimmed and narrowed. Her ears rang, drowning out the sound of her racing pulse.

“Max . . . ,” she whispered, tasting the coppery flavor of blood on her tongue.

A blinding explosion of light turned the night into day. Sulfur filled her nostrils and burned her throat. The buildings around them shook with the impact, freeing a cloud of minute debris that mingled with the falling snow.

You did it, my love, she thought as her limbs chilled.

“Victoria, no!”

Max’s agonized cry broke her heart.

Icy snowdrops mingled with hot tears. In the sudden stillness, the distant sounds of Christmas songs and jingling bells tried to spread cheer. Instead it was a mournful requiem.

Her chest rose on a last breath.

I love you.

With Max on her mind and in her heart, Victoria died.

Two

Six hours earlier . . .

He was there, in the darkness. Watching her. Circling her.

His hunger wrapped around her, sharp and biting. Insatiable. It startled her sometimes, how ravenous he was. She could not temper or appease his desires.

She could only surrender. Submit. To them, to him.

Arching her back, her arms stretched the distance allowed by the silken bonds at her wrists, and her eyelids fluttered behind the red satin blindfold. Victoria stood, anchored, spread-eagled, her hands fisted around the forest green velvet ropes that extended from the ceiling. The colors of the season. More than mere sentimentality, it was a testament to Max’s attention to detail. The same intense attention he paid to her body. He knew her inside and out, every curve and crevice, every dream and secret.

The sudden sharp smack of the crop against her bare buttocks made her hiss like the feline she was. The sting lingered, grew hot, made her writhe.

“Don’t move, kitten,” Max rumbled, his deep voice a husky caress.

If only she could see him. Her feline sight could drink him in, worship him. He was so beautiful. So delicious. Her warlock. Hers.

His lust was a potent scent in the air, dark and alluring, powerful. It beaded her nipples, swelled her breasts, slicked her sex. Her mouth watered for the taste of his cock and she purred, the low rumble an unmistakable plea for more. Always more.

She was as insatiable as he, driven by a love so consuming and vital she wondered how she’d ever lived without it.

“Max,” she whispered, licking her lips. “I need you inside me.”

Magic rose in the air between them, his considerable power augmented by her Familiar gifts. Her collar tingled around her neck. It was invisible to mortals, but to other magickind it was a blatant and unmistakable symbol of Max’s ownership. A simple black ribbon that proclaimed she was owned, loved, looked after, protected. She’d rejected that symbol of submission for centuries after Darius had perished. Then Max Westin hunted her, and she learned to love supplication.

Now they were rogues, tasked with only the most unwanted assignments, punished by the Council at every turn. The adversity only made their bond stronger, deepening their connection.

“I love you,” she breathed, arching in an effort to relieve the agonizing lust that consumed her. Her skin was hot and misted with sweat, desperate for the feel of his powerful body pressed to hers.

The scorching lash of a tongue on her beaded nipple made her cry out in near mindless longing.

“I love you, too,” he murmured, his breath humid against her newly dampened skin. She heard the crop clatter on the floor just before his large hands cupped her hips.

“Y-yes.” She swallowed hard. “Yes, Max.”

As his heated face pressed into the valley between her breasts, his hands slid around to cup her buttocks, his fingers kneading into the firm flesh. His touch was gentle and reverent, despite the savage need she smelled on him. He loved her so much, enough to temper his passion and control it. There was nothing in the world like being made love to with such ferocious intensity and focus. Victoria was addicted to the pleasure he bestowed with such expert detail.

“Fuck me,” she whispered through dry lips. “Gods, Max . . . I need your cock.”

“Not yet, kitten. I’m not done playing.”

She shuddered as his hot mouth wrapped around the aching tip of her breast. Panting, she writhed in his arms. “Damn you . . . you’re killing me.”

The sound of the Boston Pops playing holiday songs flowed in from the living room stereo, mingling with the sound of rushing blood in her ears. Outside, the snow continued to fall unabated, blanketing the city in a pristine layer. It was beautiful, but deceptive. The hair on Victoria’s nape rose and a trickle of sweat coursed down her temple. Dark, insidious magic lay in wait for them. The whistling of the wind against the windows gave proof of that.

We’re waiting, it whispered.

The sneering challenge of the Triumvirate given voice by the storm.

But here inside Max’s vast loft apartment, she was shielded in a cocoon of desire and love. Together, their magic was a powerful force to be reckoned with. So far, they were undefeated. But they had never battled against any demon as close to the Source as the Triumvirate.

Think about me, Max snarled, his fingers tightening on her delicate skin.

His words echoed through her mind, a manifestation of the soul-deep connection between Master and Familiar. Their tie had to be at its strongest, its deepest, if they had any hope of succeeding tonight.

Always, she husked, wrapping her long legs around his lean waist. “It’s always you.”

She was lifted by his power, raised high into the air as if supported by a harness. The blindfold fell away, leaving her blinking, her sight adjusting into the feline night vision that allowed her to see her lover in all his glory.

Max stood between her spread thighs, his dark hair dampened by sweat and clinging to his arrogant brow. His eyes were dark and shining, his skin golden, his musculature made visible by sharp sexual tension.

As his head lowered and his lips approached her quivering cleft, the depth of his desire flooded her mind in a ferocious growl that made her jolt within her bonds.

My beautiful kitty has a beautiful pussy, he crooned. Soft, sweet, and delicious.

Then his mouth was between her legs, his tongue slipping through the slick folds and stroking across her swollen clitoris. She arched into his grip, her body shivering with the delightful torment.

With dazed, heavy-lidded eyes, Victoria took in the view of a gorgeous man eating her out with helpless fascination. Their love only added to the eroticism of the moment. Max relished having her this way, craving the taste of her so strongly that he sucked her off daily, his enjoyment obvious in the hungry snarls that vibrated against her tender flesh. His pleasure spurred hers until it rode her hard, tearing her apart.

Her power rose with the ecstasy he dispensed with wicked skill, augmenting his, filling the loft until the wooden ceiling beams and floorboards creaked with the effort to contain it.

“Let me touch you,” she begged, her hands clenching and releasing restlessly. She could free herself easily, but she didn’t. That made her submission even more valuable to him. He cherished her because of it, and she adored him for seeing it as the strength it was and not a weakness.

I want you like this.

She gasped as his lips circled her clitoris and he sucked, the pleasure radiating through her body in rolling waves. His tongue stroked rhythmically across the hardened bundle of nerves, making her pussy clench desperately in a silent plea to be filled.

“Max . . . ”

His head tilted and he lifted her higher, his tongue thrusting deep, fucking hard and fast into the melting, spasming depths of her.

Victoria keened, coming hard, her back bowing as the orgasm stole her sight. Magic exploded from her like ripples on water, pouring into Max until he shook as savagely as she did.

But he didn’t stop.

His lips, tongue, and teeth continued to feast on her, groans spilling from his throat as he drank her down. The silky curtain of his hair brushed against her inner thighs, adding to the overwhelming barrage of sensation that assailed her. It would all be too much if not for his love, which anchored her in the maelstrom and prevented her from losing her mind.

“Oh gods, Max,” she whimpered, shivering with the aftershocks.

She’d never known sex could be so . . . fervent until she met Max. He took her body to places she hadn’t known it could go. He allowed no barriers between them, no resistance.

Max released her wrists and she sank limply into his arms, her cheek falling to his shoulder and her lips touching his skin. The taste of him was an aphrodisiac, keeping her hot and wet. Hungry.

He set her carefully on her feet, then applied gentle but insistent pressure to her shoulders. “Suck my cock, kitten.”

She sank gracefully and gratefully to her knees, her mouth watering for the taste of him and the feel of that heavy, vein-lined shaft sliding over her tongue. She was desperate for it, her throat clenching in anticipation.

He held the weighty length in one tightfisted hand and guided the flushed, glistening head to her parted lips.

“Yeah,” he groaned, his chest heaving. “You look so beautiful when you’re giving me head, baby.”

Hot and throbbing, Max’s cock slid inexorably into her drenched mouth. Her hands cupped his buttocks and drew him closer, her throat working to swallow and lure him deeper.

He kept one hand fisted around the base so he didn’t feed her too much. The other hand cupped her cheek, feeling her mouth worshiping his cock from the outside.

“Gods,” he gasped, his buttocks clenching against her palms as her tongue fluttered over the sensitive spot beneath the crown. “Slow down, kitten.”

Victoria pulled free with a wet pop, her lips curving in a catlike smile. Tilting her head, she followed a throbbing vein with the tip of her tongue, then circled his grasping hand. She backtracked, sucking softly as she moved upward, her emotions entangled with her physical responses.

“Fuck,” he growled, his thighs quaking. “Suck it, baby. Don’t play.”

Pressing her lips to the tiny hole at the tip, she barely parted them, then flowed over him in a rapid dip of her head.

His hand left her cheek and cupped the back of her head, holding her still as he fucked her mouth in rapid, shallow digs. She moaned in delight, her thighs squeezed tightly together to fight the ache of emptiness in her pussy.

“Suck it hard, kitten.”

Her cheeks hollowed on a drawing pull and his fierce shout of triumph swelled upward through the exposed ductwork, combating the sounds of the Triumvirate’s challenge in the wind outside.

Shuddering, he spurted hot and thick, the creamy wash of his semen flowing over her tongue and down her throat. His fist stroked from the thick base of his cock to meet her lips, pumping his cum hard and fast along the jerking shaft into her waiting, willing mouth.

The power she’d given him with her climax flowed back into her, hotter and more powerful, a deluge so intense she wouldn’t have been able to take it if not for the gift Darius gave her. She felt Max in her mind, his love flowing through her in a saturating embrace, his pleasure as necessary to her as breathing.

He pulled free of her suckling. The next instant cool, crushed velvet cushioned her back and Max was over her, kneeing her legs wider so his hips could sink between them. She purred at the feel of the slick head of his cock notching into place at the tiny slitted entrance of her pussy.

With a powerful lunge, he was deep inside her, his still-rigid cock thrusting through her swollen tissues until he’d hit the end of her.

“Max!” His name was a breathless cry on her lips, her toes curling with the delight of having him pulsing within her, stretching her to her limits in the most delicious way possible.

“Naughty kitten,” he rumbled, nuzzling his cheek against hers. “You almost finished me with your mouth.”

“I love your cock, Max.”

“As much as you can take.” His head lifted and his gaze promised hours of joy ahead of her. “I’ll always give you as much as you can handle, kitten.”

“Give it to me now,” she purred. “Hard and deep.”

Fists clenched in the coverlet, Max obliged her, pounding her into the mattress with the heated length of his magnificent cock. He whispered lewd praise in her ear, describing how she felt around him, how he loved her hot pussy and greedy cries for more.

Victoria clawed at his back, her long legs wrapping around his pumping hips, her pussy tightening on every withdraw and quivering on every plunge. Gluttonously relishing the brutality of his passion.

There was a desperation in his taking, a primal urge to sink as deep into her as possible so that they could never be separated. They faced the greatest foe of their lives tonight and they might not survive it.

I love you . . . so beautiful . . . mine . . .

As his emotions filled her mind and heart, tears coursed down her temples to wet her hair. She embraced his sweat-slick back and spread her legs wider, sobbing with the mind-numbing pleasure of his possession, trembling violently from an orgasm more fierce than anything she’d ever experienced before.

His climax followed hers, his cum spurting in scorching skeins, his cock jerking inside her with every wrenching pulse. Their combined magic swelled, shaking every item in the loft. The windows creaked, whined, barely able to contain the power they created as one. On this night.

Victoria clung to Max, crying. She wouldn’t lose him. She couldn’t.

If the end approached, it would be her life for his.

She would ensure it.

Three

Midnight, the witching hour

He was going to die.

The hot trickle of blood from Max’s nostril assured him of that fact. His veins felt scorched by acid, his chest burned with every gasping breath, his skull felt as if it were being squeezed in a vise. Every blow to his warding spell felt like a physical one and they were incessant, coming from two sides.

“Victoria!” Max yelled, his shields rippling sinuously in testament to their swiftly approaching collapse. She had to turn and flee, before his strength waned and left her vulnerable.

Run!

Just as his vision began to dim and he feared slipping into unconsciousness, a surge of power almost too potent to contain tore through him in a scalding rush.

Victoria. So visceral it felt as if her very soul had entered his body. Her augmentation whipped around and through him, strengthening and protecting him from harm.

As his target sank to his knees and victory was at hand, an invasive chill spread outward from the center of Max’s chest and gripped his heart. The icy fist tightened, then spread insidiously through his veins. The sudden dearth of Victoria in his mind was like a scream in silence, piercing and terrifying.

Turning his head, he looked for her and found her sprawled on the pavement, a smoldering hole in her beautiful chest.

“Victoria, NO!”

Her beloved voice with its soft, throaty purr whispered through his mind. I love you.

Max roared into the storm. His hands began to lower, his need to be with her a driving impulse that he couldn’t deny.

But she wouldn’t allow him to give up.

Her strength of will straightened his arms and increased the flow of gray magic he sent into the falling brother. His quivering arms shot forward and magic poured from the tips of his fingers in white-hot streams, arcing through the air like lightning, sinking deep into the collapsing body of the middle Triumvirate brother. The wards around him thickened, shielding him from the blows that pelted his frontal perimeter.

His body and magic were no longer his own. They were possessed by a force greater than himself. Something strange and new penetrated deep into his bones, embracing his grief and fury. Magnifying them and sending them outward in a shockwave of power so destructive it shattered his wards and sliced through the center of the Triumvirate brethren like a guillotine blade.

Their screams echoed through the alley, rising like banshees’ cries, ripping apart the sky in a thunderous boom. As one, the Triumvirate exploded in a blinding flash, rocking Max back on his heels and quaking the very ground beneath him. The buildings shook with such violence they threatened to topple, and animals across the city protested in a sudden cacophony. Dogs whined and howled. Cats screeched. Birds fled their warm nests in a riot of flapping wings and caws.

Then the alley fell silent. The only sounds that broke the stillness were the jingling of distant sleigh bells and Max’s own tortured sobbing.

He dropped to the snow on his knees, the emptiness inside him a gaping, yawning hole he knew he couldn’t survive. He needed Victoria. Couldn’t live without her.

Centuries he’d spent alone, focused on his primary mission—enforcing the will of the Council by death. Victoria had brought light into his life, warmth with the heat of her passion, and love into the emptiness of his heart.

“Damn you,” he said hoarsely, crawling toward her as debris rattled down and mingled with the snowflakes. “You can’t leave me here alone.”

Max caught her up and pulled her into his lap. Chanting one spell after another. Trying everything he knew, black and white magic, anything at all to heal her and bring her back to him.

But she didn’t move, her chest did not rise and fall with breath, her eyelids didn’t flutter over the brilliant emerald irises he adored.

“Kitten . . . ,” he sobbed. “You can’t leave me here alone . . . you can’t leave me . . . ”

Rocking her, Max pressed shaking lips to her forehead and felt his sanity slipping from him like sands through an hourglass.

“Heal her!” His command cracked through the night, reaching out to the Council who heard and saw everything. “Heal her or I will hunt you down,” he hissed. “Every last one of you. I’ll kill you all. I swear it.”

We told you this would happen, They crowed. Her loss is the penalty for your arrogance.

Max’s jaw tightened. His gaze narrowed on Victoria, who looked beautiful and oddly peaceful. Her skin pale and luminous like a pearl, her thick lashes spiked from tears and melting snow. She glowed. Softly, faintly. With an inner radiance.

Stilling, Max took in that hint of illumination. And what it signified.

The magic within her still lived. Darius’s magic.

You can’t have her, Max growled, fury overtaking his crushing grief. She’s mine.

There were consequences for penetrating the Transcendual Realm. Dire penalties.

He didn’t care.

He would be stained, marked. Some would hunt him as a rogue. Peace would be ephemeral with a price on his head.

Max didn’t hesitate. It would all be worth it. If he had Victoria.

Slicing across his wrist with a sliver of magic, he held his arm above the wounds in Victoria’s chest. The crimson of his blood blended with the snow and dripped onto her charred flesh. The mixture sizzled atop her skin and smoke rose.

Max closed his eyes and began to incant.

Victoria woke with a gasp and found herself lying in a field of yellow flowers. The air was redolent of lilies and sun-warmed grass, and butterflies flitted through the air in rarely seen numbers.

Pushing up to a seated position, she perused her surroundings with greater care, attempting to reconcile the beauty of the summer day with the snow-covered alley she’d occupied just a moment before. She looked down, noting the simple linen shift she wore, cleanly cut and unadorned. Her hand lifted to her unmarred chest and she frowned.

Where was Max? And where was she?

A masculine hand penetrated her vision.

Her gaze lifted and came to rest on a beloved face she thought she would never see again.

“Darius.”

“Hello, Vicky.” His beautiful mouth curved in a loving smile. The sunlight lit his golden hair with a luminousness that stole her breath and tightened her chest. Her favorite dimple dotted his cheek and brought back a flood of treasured memories.

“Where are we?”

She accepted the hand he held out to her, allowing him to pull her to her feet.

“Together,” he said simply. “Although I’ve always been with you.”

Darius linked his fingers with hers. “Walk with me?”

“Am I dead?”

His head tilted to the side, as if listening to something she couldn’t hear. His handsome features took on a thoughtful cast and his lips pursed. Then he set off, pulling her along with him, forgetting to answer her. Or choosing not to.

As they strolled, recognition of their location came to her—the south of France. One of the many places they’d visited and enjoyed as a couple.

“Have you been here the whole time?” she asked.

“No. I switch it up every now and then.”

“ ‘Switch it up’?”

He glanced aside at her with a familiar twinkle in his eye. “I’m keeping up with vernacular.”

As flowers crushed beneath their feet, sweetly alluring fragrances filled the air. It was paradise, in a fashion, but echoes of pain and longing turned down the corners of her mouth.

Max. Her fear for him was paramount in her mind.

“Where are we, Darius?”

“You know where we are.” He looked straight ahead, revealing no more than the classical elegance of his profile.

“Is it over for me, then?”

“It can be.” With a gesture of his hand, he directed her to sit upon a half-moon bench that hugged a tree. A tree that had not been there just a second ago.

“You still have magic,” she said.

“It is ingrained in us.”

Victoria sat, her fingers moving restlessly over the edge of her skirt. The urgency inside her grew with every breath she took, sparking a driving need to act. For her, the clock was ticking double time, a jarring contrast to the pervasive leisure she felt in the Transcendual Realm.

Darius sat beside her and picked up one of her hands in his. “When I first saw you,” he said softly, “I knew you were the only woman for me. The sensation was lightning in a bottle, an instantaneous awareness. I was certain, prior to exchanging a word with you, that you would make me happier than I had ever been or could ever be without you.”

Her eyes stung as her vision blurred with tears. “I felt the same.”

“I always knew you loved me.”

“Yes . . . ”

“I also knew that I was not your soul mate.”

Victoria stilled. Darius smiled, but his handsome features were marred by sorrow.

“What are you saying?”

“You were all I needed, Vicky, but I couldn’t be all you needed. I didn’t have a firm enough hand. You were content with me, but not thriving.”

“No,” she protested, canting to face him directly. “That’s not true.”

“It is.” He cupped her cheek, his thumb following the line of her cheekbone. “That’s why I gifted my power to you. I wanted you to have a choice. I wanted to give you the opportunity to get it right the next time.”

“It was right the first time,” she insisted. “I will always care for you, always love you.”

“I know.” The sadness left his blue eyes, replaced by the mischievous twinkle she’d fallen in love with. “What we had was perfect . . . but now you have something even more perfect. I wish I could have been that for you. Still, I’m grateful for what we did have. I know we had something wonderful.”

“Yes. We did.” Victoria glanced at the field of flowers around them. “What happens now?”

“Now, you decide.” He squeezed her hand. “Stay with me or live the rest of your eight lives.”

She bumped his shoulder with hers. “That’s a myth.”

Darius grinned. “Is it?” he teased, standing.

Victoria rose to her feet and stared up at him. “Are you happy?”

“Of course.” His dimple flashed. “I’m with you always. There’s nothing more I could ask for.”

“Do you want me to stay?”

“I want you to be happy,” he said, in a low ardent tone. “Whether that’s with me or with Westin. He loves you. Almost as much as I do. He’s fighting to bring you back as we speak.”

“I love him.” Her tears flowed freely.

“I’m glad, Vicky.”

“I love you, too.”

“I know you do.”

His golden head lowered, bringing his mouth to hers. His advance was slow, yet heartrendingly familiar. The press of his lips soothed a long restless part of her heart. She hadn’t had the chance to say good-bye; he’d been ripped from her too quickly. That lack of closure had haunted her for centuries.

Victoria’s hands fisted in Darius’s linen shirt and she kissed him desperately. Not with the passion she felt for Max, but with the lingering love they’d once shared. It was a bittersweet parting, but one that felt absolutely right. Her life was with Max now. So was her heart.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “I couldn’t have saved him without you.”

“I’ll see you on the flip side, love,” Darius replied softly. “Stay out of trouble until then.”

She tried to open her eyes, but sank into darkness instead.

Victoria woke to the feel of snow falling on her face. Warmth cradled her right side and she rolled into it, groaning as searing agony burned through her chest.

“Kitten?” Even from a perceived distance, the aching wonder in Max’s voice could not be mistaken.

“Hi.” She pressed her cheek to his soaked shirt. “Miss me?”

“Don’t tease, damn you. I could kill you for putting me through that.” He caught her close, his large frame quaking with the violence of his emotions. “What a shitty stunt to pull on a man. Especially on Christmas.”

“I’m sorry, baby.” Her hand curled around his side.

Take good care of her, Westin.

Darius’s voice moved through her like a tangible caress.

“I will,” Max assured hoarsely.

Turning her head, Victoria found Darius standing a few feet away. Translucent and glowing, he watched her with warm, loving eyes.

Live for yourself now, he admonished gently. You’ve lived enough centuries for me.

She nodded.

With a wave, he was gone.

And with a snapping of Max’s fingers, so were Victoria and Max.

Epilogue

Six days later . . .

If you ever do that again,” Max growled, rising over her in his velvet-covered bed, “I’ll spank your ass red.”

“Is that supposed to be a threat?”

She purred as he rolled his hips and pushed his magnificent cock into her.

“Kitten, you have no idea.” He withdrew and thrust deep, the wide-flared head of his cock stroking across a sensitive spot inside her. “I thought I was losing my mind in that alley. I would have, if Darius hadn’t brought you back to me.”

“I’ll always come for you, Max.”

Holding her hip with one hand, he responded to her teasing by shafting her pussy in hard, fierce drives. “Come for me now,” he bit out.

She climaxed with a mewl, gasping as heated pleasure exploded across her senses with dazzling brightness.

An edgy rumble vibrated in his chest. “Fuck, that sound makes me hot as hell.”

“After nearly a week of nothing but showers, food, and sex?” she asked breathlessly. “You’re insatiable.”

“I’m just enjoying my Christmas present, kitten. Besides, you love it.”

Max stared down at her with his stormy gray eyes and she knew she’d never loved him more. He’d kept her within touching distance for the last week; cooking her favorite meals, feeding her by hand, and washing her hair and body. For a Familiar, it was heaven, and she soaked it up like sunshine after a long, dreary winter.

“Max . . . ”

He thrust rhythmically, plunging deep and slow to give her time to recover, making her feel every throbbing inch of him.

Her neck arched, her nails dug into his back, and her pussy fluttered in helpless delight around him.

“Oh yeah,” he rumbled, a wicked smile curving one side of his gorgeous mouth. “You definitely love it.”

“I love you.” She offered her mouth and he took it with breathtaking passion.

“I love you back.”

Finally content, Victoria’s lips curved against his in a catlike smile.