Planeswalker Read online

  I squeeze his leg because it’s there, under my hand, tempting me. “I think I can find Vasily but I need an item of clothing. And I was thinking . . .” I wet my lips and turn toward him. “Do you think it would be possible to bring more than one of you with me?”

  He smiles and if I weren’t belted into the car, that smile would knock me off my seat. “Why not all of us?”

  “What if we can’t get back or we can’t get back for a long time? Two of your brothers should remain here, at least.”

  He pulls up in front of my house and I shudder. The bright orange eviction notice flashes like a neon bar sign. Arch gets out of the car and I start to exit the other side of his Tesla X, but he’s there in a flash to hold the door open, extending his hand to help me out. Not what I expected from the wildling.

  “What if you wait here and I go grab your phone?” He’s still holding my hand.

  I shake my head. I am responsible for my parents’ things, including their house, and I can’t look the other way and pretend this is not happening. Except I’ve pretty much done just that, haven’t I? I should have stayed here to deal with it all instead of running off to Tara or wasting time job hunting when I’m constitutionally incapable of holding one down anyway.

  He clutches my hand tighter and we walk up the short walkway together. My other hand finds its way into my mouth to chew on a nail but I quickly pull it out. No more of that.

  “I don’t have my key.” I curse leaving the house with Bob and spacing on everything. “Maybe a window is unlocked.”

  “There’s no hidden spare?” Arch tries the doorknob and before I can answer, he’s opened the front door of the house to find it . . . completely empty.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  I rush inside. But with the first hollow-sounding footstep on the bare floor where Mom’s threadbare Oriental runner should be, my heart stops. How can this be? Didn’t I have five more days to clean it out? To save my parents’ belongings?

  Arch doesn’t follow me; he’s reading the eviction notice. “I’m so sorry Amaya. We missed it by a day.”

  “That’s not possible.” I fly outside and yank it off the door, tearing it in the process. But he’s right, it’s got yesterday’s date. Bob must have moved up the date; I wouldn’t put it past the worm.

  I charge back into the house, wanting to do something, but . . . there’s nothing to do. Instead, I crumple onto the empty wooden floor, cradling my head in my hands.

  Arch follows me inside, closes the door behind him, then crouches next to me and puts his arms around my shoulders. “He legally has to store your belongings for a year. They’re not gone.”

  I shake my head. “Maybe that’s true elsewhere, but laws are different in the Edge.”

  “We’ll find them. I’ll find them.”

  I lean into him. It’s either that or fly apart at the seams. His huge arms circle me, holding me safe. Supported. Almost . . . loved. Leaning my head against him, I do everything in my power to bite back the tears but they flow like a faucet, leaking down my face. He cradles my cheek in one hand, turning my face up to his. A thumb flicks out to wipe the tears flowing down my cheeks, followed by gentle kisses. It’s what I need, in this moment, the care of another human. The kindness. The compassion. A Band-Aid for my broken heart.

  His large hands knead my shoulder. I sniffle and close my eyes. After a minute or two his hands slip down past my shoulders to graze my breasts, but instead of squeezing them he unbuttons my top. My brain screams at me, what the hell are you doing? This probably isn’t the right time. But I don’t care. It’s not the right place either. No furniture, all we have is the hard wood floor. I don’t care about that either. My body is tense with worry, with fury, with resignation. Arch shifts himself behind me on the floor, his legs jutting past mine. Fiery hair plays on my shoulder as his head drops. I expect a bite and a growl but instead he surprises me by pressing tender kisses down the length of my neck. His arms encircle me and he continues unbuttoning my blouse, slipping it off my shoulders and throwing it across the floor.

  “Lie back. Don’t think,” he growls in my ear. “I’ll help you forget your pain.”

  My body trembles. I recognize the movements as shock, uncontrollable and unwanted. “Please,” I hiss out through a clenched jaw.

  His tongue flicks against my earlobes, his breath hot against me. “Stand up.”

  I do as he commands. He follows, still behind me, unbuttoning my jeans and helping me step out of them. I stand in my bra and panties as he yanks me into the hard planes of his body, the small of my back colliding with the very large bulge straining his pants. He drops his head to kiss my shoulders, tracing my collarbone with large fingers. Licking up my neck, he sinks his teeth into the tender skin directly beneath my ear. Fingers move from my collarbone to my back, pressing between our bodies. Nails tear down my back, soft at first and then harder, and I arch into the stimulation that just verges on the edge of pain.

  My head drops back but when a moan escapes, he slams a hand over my mouth.

  “Be quiet,” he growls.

  I squirm, both turned on and out of my comfort zone, but he holds me tightly and I still.

  “Remove your head from the equation,” he snarls in my ear. “Focus on the sensations.”

  I nod under his clamped hand and he clasps his thumb and forefinger over my nose too, cutting off my breath completely. I sag into him. His other hand reaches back around and tears my bra off. So flimsy. He throws it on the ground and pushes his fingers down between my legs, still covering my mouth and nose. He pulls aside my panties to press against my slick folds.

  “I love how wet you are for me.” He bites my earlobe. “Spread your legs wide.”

  I do as he says and he lets go of my nose. I breathe in a sharp intake of air all the sweeter for its absence while he buries a finger inside, then two, pumping slowly. His thick digits press into me and twist, pulling back out again to pinch my swollen clit. He covers my nose again and I push back into him, trying to find his cock through his pants but he ignores my attempts and keeps playing with me, driving his fingers in deeper every time. I soften against him, giving up all control to him, trusting him even with my very breath. It’s both familiar and unusual, comforting and terrifying, exhilarating and stifling. The moment I make the decision to trust is the moment he releases the clamp over my face. I gulp down the air, both thankful for it and missing his hand.

  He moves it to fist my hair at the base of my skull. He jerks my head back and kisses me. The contradictory sensations are overwhelming. I’ve never been manhandled like this and I fucking love it. I love the way his mouth feels, his tongue demanding and hot. I love the way his fingers feel, deep and thick. I love the way he’s pulling my hair, lighting up my scalp as it flatlines my brain, like I belong to him so utterly even my neurons must obey. Yet all this power is just to satisfy and tease me, to take me away.

  His fingers never leave my pussy and he continues to work my mouth with his, but the hand in my hair drops and the sound of his zipper is like thunder in the quiet space. I try to pivot, wanting to see him unleash his cock. Wanting to lick it. Taste it. Rub my face on it. But his fingers and his mouth never stop claiming me, pinning me in place. My body rides his hand and that, coupled with the overwhelming taste of him, cloves and the forbidden, brings me closer to the brink.

  “Come for me,” he growls into my mouth. “Come on my hand. Don’t hold back.”

  His words, hot and weighted, drip down my throat like melted chocolate. His fingers work between my legs, pumping and rubbing until my climax bursts through my body on a thick wave of sugary lust. His mouth locks on mine like it’s sucking out my soul and I can’t give it to him fast enough. I explode with full-body spasms and before I’m finished he rips something open and spins me around. I clutch at his neck, my body still jerking from the climax. Slow and tender, he trails his hands over my trembling body.

  “Lie down,” he commands.

  Without hes
itation I lie on the bare floorboards, the inflexible wood biting into my ass and legs. Standing before me he tears off his clothes, then fists his cock, holding it like he’s a conductor with the world’s filthiest baton. I reach up, wanting to lick him, but he shoves me back down and unrolls a condom over his massive dick.

  Kneeling before me he reaches below my knees, drawing my legs up and spreading them wide. I yelp when his enormous appendage enters me.

  “Amaya,” he growls, pulling me upright and holding my entire body in place with his broad arms. “Now you will come all over my cock while I dance inside your perfect pussy.”

  One arms cradles me, pulling me tight against his chest, and his other arm moves between our heated bodies to work my swollen clit.

  He brings me to the edge again in a matter of seconds and I clutch at his long hair, pulling his mouth to mine. The kisses are hard and fevered, matching our rhythm, his tongue thrusting in time with his cock down below, which penetrates to the deepest chasm of my being. Our momentum increases to a fevered tempo and our teeth click as our mouths mash.

  We groan together, into each other, not breaking the kiss, and when my second climax hits, his follows. I rock in his arms on the hard floor, cradled in the rush of heat and pleasure, as the last twenty-four hours of pain dissolves away.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  We return to the mansion, holding hands the entire way. He drives with his left and refuses to let go of me with his right. I’m filled with lightness. My mind is laser focused, ready to move again, not mired in shock and pain as I was just an hour ago. And I feel incredibly close to this man, my savior. He’s not speaking, but instead giving me space to process. And process I do. I let go of as much worry as I can, the orgasms helping with that. No, not just the orgasms, the way he held me, the way he pleasured me, the way he was there for me. I want to unclip the seat belt and snuggle into him but the cops in the Edge do not take kindly to vehicular violations.

  To my surprise, on the way back, Arch takes a different road. It winds up the side of the mountain and through a grove of cedars. He stops the car, unclips his seat belt, slides over and pulls me close. Our mouths meet and meld as he cups the back of my head. His lips taste spicy, as though he’s just drunk a chai, and I lose myself in the moment, sucking and twining our tongues. When he pulls back, his expression has turned serious, one I didn’t expect to see.

  “This is my favorite place in the Edge. It’s where I used to perform my spells. I want to share it with you.” His eyes track past me, out the window.

  “Why?” Why me, why now?

  His gaze flicks back to mine and he tilts my chin up with a finger. “You’re special.”

  I snort but instead of pulling away, he stays engaged, flashing a broad smile. “Not just because you’re a synergist, or a planeswalker . . . but because you, as a woman, as my woman, are special to me.”

  My spine straightens and little tingles spark in my core. His woman? A man of few words sure knows the right ones.

  He leans in to kiss me but this kiss isn’t forceful like the others, it’s gentle and sweet, like the moment is a fragile thing and he’s trying not to break it. He lingers there until I sigh.

  “Are you ready to see my weakness?”

  “Your weakness?”

  “Yes. I’ve never brought anyone here. It’s not cloaked or hidden, but no one comes here. It’s my place, when I need to get out of my head.”

  I look through the window to survey his magical spot. The cedars grow together in clusters along the side of the road. They are so tall they block out the sun. Majestic, proud and beautiful. He presses a switch to open the passenger side door. Fresh, clean air pours over me and Arch breathes it in, humming a little as he does. I slide out and he follows. His lips press against my cheek. “I wish I had my powers back.”

  “How long has it been since you’ve tried to cast a spell?”

  “You were there the last time, in the spell room, when you and Vasily ended up in Tara. But that magic was all you, not me.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I don’t follow.”

  “Have you tried to cast a spell on your own, without your brothers, in your magical place?” I open my arms to the trees. Arch tracks my movements.

  “No. I haven’t tried to cast a spell here in years. What’s the point?”

  “The point is that you don’t know if you’re able to if you don’t try. What do you need?”

  He pulls me even closer, wrapping his huge arms around me. “I have what I need right here.” He drops his lips to mine and we kiss. He kisses me like he’s lost all hope. His kisses fill me up. His mouth opens just the right amount, his head tilts, and his tongue is perfectly attentive but not overly so. But right now, I’m his distraction. And though it’s a fun thing to be, it’s not what he needs right now.

  I pull away. “I’ll let you do whatever you want to me, wherever you want to do it, if . . .”

  He lets out a belly laugh, the sound so large and outrageous coming from this quiet man I can’t help but startle. “You’re trying to bribe me with sex?”

  I shrug and extricate myself from his grasp, stepping back to look him in the eyes. “Try and cast a spell, here, with me.”

  “I don’t even know what to try.”

  “Something simple. Something you did a million times. Something that requires very little effort.”

  After a long moment, he nods, steps forward and holds out both of his hands. I reach for them, and as soon as we’re connected, he closes his eyes.

  “Air, fire, water, metal and earth, I call upon you. Elemental beings of the forest, Pan and my defender. My governing force, Sequoioideae. I pull your power from the northern groves.” He pauses and inhales deeply. His beard and hair shift and undulate in the sudden breeze but his eyes remain shut. “Perform for Amaya . . . the dance of the leaves.”

  A huge gust of wind blows through our clasped hands, almost causing me to let go, but Arch tightens his grip. His eyes don’t open but mine widen as the leaves of the forest rise off the ground and dance before my eyes.

  “Oh my God,” I whisper and his eyes snap open. The joy in them lifts my heart, which tumbles right back down when the leaves fall from the sky just as quickly as they took flight.

  Arch drops my hands, his head hangs, and he walks back to the car practically dragging his feet. I skip to catch up. “That was a good sign, right?”

  He stops walking and turns to face me, his eyes downcast. He lets out a long sigh. “I should look at it that way but . . .”

  I cock my head and wait.

  “When my body filled with the familiar energy, it was as though someone had finally discovered a cure to all the Earth’s problems. But when it deflated, I was filled with dread. And defeat.” He reaches for my hands again. “I think you have something to do with it working, even for a few moments.”

  I laugh outright. “Ha! Me? Yeah right.”

  But Arch’s eyes just bore into me. He’s serious?

  “Wait, really? How?”

  “I don’t know, but we’re going to find out.”

  Chapter Forty-Six

  The five of us sit around the table in the spell room. Candy and Sabin lean against the wall by the window, watching us outside the circle just in case anything gets weird. Though I’m not sure what they could do if it did.

  As soon as we got back from the grove, Arch told his brothers what had happened to his powers. The others were ecstatic, though Arch still seemed a bit melancholy at the partial success. But all agreed it meant we should try to cast the circle back into Tara again, this time with Betty’s gadget. So after a quick meal to recharge, we hurried up to the spell room to try one more time. I’m really beginning to hate the sight of this room.

  The men cast the circle with Bodhi on one side of me and Arch on the other. I’ve looped one of Vasily’s scarves around my neck. Each of the men have another article of his clothing and Arch has placed an object in the center of the ta
ble.

  It looks familiar. Probably because it’s an abada horn, but with a bright blue gemstone winking at its base. I reach for it.

  “No, don’t touch it,” says Cedar.

  I pull my arm back. “What is it?”

  “It’s the object Betty gave us.” Arch clasps my hand.

  “An abada horn?”

  “Yes, but one infused with the magic of a royal.”

  The blue gemstone undulates as though it’s made of water or mercury. I squint and the movement ceases. My imagination? I have no experience with magical items but the men do and I trust them. But . . . “Why would she just give it to you?”

  “As a show of good faith, and to prove her bona fides. It’s proof that she has access to Tara, unlike the other potential synergists we’ve contacted before.” Bodhi grasps my other hand.

  If I had a magical item like that from Tara, I’m not sure I’d leave it somewhere. None of my men would skip town with it, but how does she know that?

  Bodhi reaches out to clasp Cedar’s hand on his other side and I push my worries away to focus on the here and now. When we’re all connected they start incanting the spell.

  Closing my eyes, I conjure visuals of Tara. I imagine myself there with these two men by my side. Bodhi the calm voice of reason, and Arch, whose brawn will protect us. Forrest and Cedar are staying behind—Forrest because he didn’t want to leave the horses and Cedar because we need at least two people on Earth in case we get stuck.

  The temperature shifts around me in a subtle yet perceptible way as though I’m traveling through time and space. Which I suppose I am. I focus on landing somewhere safe in Tara. Not in the Water Meadow, and not with a branch up my ass in the Forest of Calixto. I clutch my boyfriends’ hands tighter and conjure the beauty of the flowers, the bright and colorful landscape, the temperate weather.