Maya’s voice rose above all other noise. “Janet, what the hell is going on now? Can’t you keep this place together for five minutes?”
I laughed and gave Maya, the Unbeliever, a dose of magic. Not much, but enough that she’d understand what it was to have it inside her.
Maya sucked in a deep breath, eyes widening in amazement. Then she came at me, her hands sparkling with magic, cursing and shouting.
Nash pushed her aside with a quick gentleness and tackled me.
As we fell to the floor, him on top of me, I felt the power of his un-magic suck at mine, trying to pull out everything I’d taken in. Nash would drain it off and render it harmless—at least he would try—and all that beautiful magic would be gone. Emmett’s lifetime of destroying others would be for nothing.
I slid a finger of awareness into Nash, found the spell that had clung to him, and started to pull it away, one atom at a time. Nash glared at me and closed his hands around my neck, as though that would speed the null effect.
But no. I’d win this time. Even Nash’s deep spell, which could withstand dragon fire, Stormwalker power, and Beneath magic, could never hold against the power of all other mages, demons, and Beneath magic rolled into one.
Nash’s hold loosened, and his eyes widened. Arrogant man. He’d thought he could always best me.
Mick’s strong arm hooked around Nash’s waist and dragged him off me. I snarled in frustration—I’d been close to ripping the null magic from him. It snapped back into Nash, the smudge of nothingness blurring him again.
Mick pulled me up and put me against the wall. I didn’t mind, because his hard, naked body was against me.
“Come back to me, Janet,” he said, his eyes moving from dragon dark to Mick blue. “I love you. Don’t leave me.”
His heart was in his words. Mick looked at me with such anguish, such caring, that my chest tightened. The ring burned on my finger.
“I love you too,” I said. “And because I love you, I’m going to ask you to stop me.”
Pain filled his eyes. Mick had once made a vow that if ever I became too dangerous, he’d kill me himself. He’d told me and the dragons that he could no longer carry out that mission, but I saw on his face that he would hold himself to that promise if necessary. He’d grieve deeply, and maybe end his life the dragon way—diving into a volcano, as Colby had suggested—but he’d do it.
“I’m sorry, Mick,” I said.
I felt him gear up to try to fight me. Mick looked at me in love and regret, and my heart broke.
I fought myself. I thought of Mick, the biker who’d scared the shit out of me when he’d charged into the roadhouse where I’d been in the bar fight, lifted me, and carried me out as though I’d weighed nothing. I had been so certain he’d been about to force me, when he’d opened his arms and told me to hit him with my storm magic. I’d stared in amazement as lightning had crawled all over him, and he’d laughed.
I remembered arguing with the Dragon Council in the searing heat of Death Valley to spare Mick from a death sentence. How he’d gifted me with the music of his true name, trusting me with his very life. I was sorry now he’d done so, because it gave this creature I’d become even more power over him.
Mostly I thought of the little things—waking to see Mick lying beside me in the mornings, the sun on his skin where he’d thrown off the covers. Riding next to him on the highway, his hair buffeted by the wind, his smile when he looked over at me. Mick feeding me bits of Chinese food with his chopsticks in the restaurant in Flagstaff, sharing a beer with me at Barry’s, sitting on the roof of my hotel as we studied the stars.
I loved this man, who’d become part of my life in all ways, who’d given me the silver, onyx, and turquoise ring that held a piece of his aura.
The me deep inside fought the all-powerful being who only wanted to drain Mick’s fire and pack it against the other magics she’d stolen.
I fought, and Mick watched me fight. He touched my lips, understanding, and loving me back. Then he drew forth his power to battle me, profound sorrow in his eyes. I nodded, wanting him to.
But the part of me that had become more than Emmett ever had been couldn’t be denied.
“Stop me,” I whispered desperately.
“I’m trying, love,” Mick said, his voice a faint rasp.
Mick’s fire magic streamed in through my hands, and I began to imbibe the quintessence of the man I loved …
The fire died out in the next instant as though someone had thrown a heavy, muffling blanket over me. I struggled, but the magic streamed back into Mick, whose eyes became black, then touched with red.