once told his sister that fighting wasn’t about magic. It was about breathing, preparation, and refusing to lose. About finding mental balance.
But today…
Today he simply drew unseen on any regenerated power and threw a frustrated blast at the mirror. His wand popped into his hand, automatically presenting on need instead of thought as wands did, but he ignored it and simply let the magic fly. A reasonably large power ball splatted into the mirror.
A lightning bolt immediately sizzled out. It caught his shoulder with a burning sear, spinning him.
His brain shouted idiot, and he flung his left arm up with a reflexive shield spell.
A wobbling cylinder rose around him—and dropped almost immediately. He’d wasted his regenerated power on that unchecked blast. He could only duck as the bolt rebounded gleefully around the room. Only once the bolt wound down and the danger passed did he straighten and wipe his forehead with the back of his wrist.
Okay, maybe magic wasn’t the best way to work out his frustrations.
But for everyone’s sake, Gabriel needed to have his wits about him, not behave like a testosterone-driven teen trying for his first bathroom blowjob.
The smell of burnt plastic curled into his nostrils, the scorch marks from where the bolt had rebounded on the floor mat mocking him. Yeah, he needed to find his fucking center, before he did worse damage.
A heavy bag hung in the corner. He wasted the tiniest mote of power to paint Bruiser’s face on it, snarling at fist level.
No, not wasted. Gabriel spent a very profitable hour beating the stuffing out of Bruiser’s mug.
Finally, completely calm and utterly sure of himself, he took a shower. Drying himself off, he looked around for his carry-on suitcase and a change of clothes. Cuckoo my Cocoa Puffs. The case was in the stateroom with Emma.
Emma. He’d have to see her again.
Down, boy.
Gabriel put on his old clothes, reeking of arousal and sweat, activated his last odor-hide talisman, and left the bubble universe.
His phone immediately chimed. Seven missed calls, all from his brother-in-law.
Gabriel swore. He and his brother-in-law, alpha wolf shifter Noah Blackwood, had already talked, after Gabriel had given Emma the burner cell magicked by another of his bat-belt talismans. What had happened now?
He hit redial. “What do you—?”
“Where the hell have you been?” The alpha, normally glass-lake still, sounded like he was climbing the walls. “I’ve been calling for hours.”
“ An hour—”
“Too damned long. I found out more about the snitch.”
“The person who sold out my sister?”
“My mate, yes. Fucker is a wolf of my own pack. I’m working on getting a name.”
Gabriel sighed. “I’m glad you’re doing something constructive.” The Council was holding Sophia incommunicado. The only reason the alpha wolf hadn’t already torn down anything and everything between them was the fact that Council jails were actually individual pocket universes, like Gabriel’s workout room. Each prisoner was held in a bubble split from the current reality.
But the jail door, unlike his pocket workout room, was anchored to the place it was created. And unlike his workout room, there was only a single door, controlled by the jailer alone, an Enforcer given authority and power directly from the Witches’ Council.
“You know what would be constructive?” Noah growled. “Having a nice talk with Sophia’s jailer. Involving fangs and claws.”
“Do not approach the Enforcer.” Gabriel’s hand tightened on the phone. The Matinsfield alpha was not simply a wolf but also a wizard prince in his own right. The dangerous combination, known as a dual, was the reason the Witches’ Council had banned intermagical sex in the first place. A werewitch king once set himself up as a demigod and tried to kill every other witch on the planet. The Council reacted as one might expect—badly.
The Council didn’t know about Noah. But if he went
But today…
Today he simply drew unseen on any regenerated power and threw a frustrated blast at the mirror. His wand popped into his hand, automatically presenting on need instead of thought as wands did, but he ignored it and simply let the magic fly. A reasonably large power ball splatted into the mirror.
A lightning bolt immediately sizzled out. It caught his shoulder with a burning sear, spinning him.
His brain shouted idiot, and he flung his left arm up with a reflexive shield spell.
A wobbling cylinder rose around him—and dropped almost immediately. He’d wasted his regenerated power on that unchecked blast. He could only duck as the bolt rebounded gleefully around the room. Only once the bolt wound down and the danger passed did he straighten and wipe his forehead with the back of his wrist.
Okay, maybe magic wasn’t the best way to work out his frustrations.
But for everyone’s sake, Gabriel needed to have his wits about him, not behave like a testosterone-driven teen trying for his first bathroom blowjob.
The smell of burnt plastic curled into his nostrils, the scorch marks from where the bolt had rebounded on the floor mat mocking him. Yeah, he needed to find his fucking center, before he did worse damage.
A heavy bag hung in the corner. He wasted the tiniest mote of power to paint Bruiser’s face on it, snarling at fist level.
No, not wasted. Gabriel spent a very profitable hour beating the stuffing out of Bruiser’s mug.
Finally, completely calm and utterly sure of himself, he took a shower. Drying himself off, he looked around for his carry-on suitcase and a change of clothes. Cuckoo my Cocoa Puffs. The case was in the stateroom with Emma.
Emma. He’d have to see her again.
Down, boy.
Gabriel put on his old clothes, reeking of arousal and sweat, activated his last odor-hide talisman, and left the bubble universe.
His phone immediately chimed. Seven missed calls, all from his brother-in-law.
Gabriel swore. He and his brother-in-law, alpha wolf shifter Noah Blackwood, had already talked, after Gabriel had given Emma the burner cell magicked by another of his bat-belt talismans. What had happened now?
He hit redial. “What do you—?”
“Where the hell have you been?” The alpha, normally glass-lake still, sounded like he was climbing the walls. “I’ve been calling for hours.”
“ An hour—”
“Too damned long. I found out more about the snitch.”
“The person who sold out my sister?”
“My mate, yes. Fucker is a wolf of my own pack. I’m working on getting a name.”
Gabriel sighed. “I’m glad you’re doing something constructive.” The Council was holding Sophia incommunicado. The only reason the alpha wolf hadn’t already torn down anything and everything between them was the fact that Council jails were actually individual pocket universes, like Gabriel’s workout room. Each prisoner was held in a bubble split from the current reality.
But the jail door, unlike his pocket workout room, was anchored to the place it was created. And unlike his workout room, there was only a single door, controlled by the jailer alone, an Enforcer given authority and power directly from the Witches’ Council.
“You know what would be constructive?” Noah growled. “Having a nice talk with Sophia’s jailer. Involving fangs and claws.”
“Do not approach the Enforcer.” Gabriel’s hand tightened on the phone. The Matinsfield alpha was not simply a wolf but also a wizard prince in his own right. The dangerous combination, known as a dual, was the reason the Witches’ Council had banned intermagical sex in the first place. A werewitch king once set himself up as a demigod and tried to kill every other witch on the planet. The Council reacted as one might expect—badly.
The Council didn’t know about Noah. But if he went
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