Page 100 of Magic of the Damned

“Vampires hang on to their humanity for the first century or so of their lives. It’s as if they remember what it is to be human, so they act accordingly. Shifters and witches are the most human of the supernaturals and therefore show those qualities in their behavior and decisions. There’s no part of me, Helena, or our father that is human. We must work to find that humanity, to ensure that we don’t give in to our nature. As the years pass, it gets harder to care about such things. My father is at that point but doesn’t possess the awareness to step down.”

A vampire wanted to have a taste of me then attempted to coerce me into hurting myself, shifters stalked me, and the witches were ‘Team Kill Luna.’ It was hard to see them as being aligned with their humanity or occasionally tapping into it to find balance. Those judgmental opinions came to an abrupt stop once I considered the undiluted version of history, the cruelty of human existence, all the turmoil I saw in the news, and social media, which was a staunch reminder that humans weren’t in any position to cast judgment.

“He’s no longer discreet with his plans. He doesn’t want supernaturals to exist—or rather, those who can challenge him. He wants servitude, and unchecked authority and power. His punishments are harsh even for the most minor infractions. He chooses to kill instead of imprison. It is my understanding that Anand told you of the tenuous balance we have with the supernaturals. Establishing a working relationship with them wasn’t my father’s doing, it was mine.”

“They don’t like you, either,” I blurted. It could have been edited to be nicer, but this conversation demanded candor.

He smirked and shrugged. “I don’t care if they like me. It’s better if they don’t, then they’re not disappointed when I’m cruel. Make no mistake.” His eyes darkened as he presented the minatory part of him, the part he managed to suppress when he was with me. But it was a blunt reminder of what and who he was and for me to never forget his capabilities.

“He is more powerful than I am and relies on the brute force of his power. My attempt to take the throne failed, but I will dethrone him because tactical maneuvering and patience are qualities and skills my father doesn’t possess. If he did, he would have dethroned my grandfather through clever machination rather than waiting until my grandfather was weakened by the spell he used to capture the shades.”

No wonder they were reluctant to use the magic from the Book of Umbra, if the cost was weakening them enough to leave them vulnerable.

“Taking the throne is?” Part of me knew what it meant to take the throne, and it definitely involved violence. I just wasn’t sure if it was to the extent of murder. Was it acknowledging defeat and relinquishing the throne, or a darker variation?

“My grandfather was killed. It was warranted,” Dominic said matter of factly. Not a hint of mourning. “He didn’t care that the shades were violent chaotic beings. He just wanted them to be his violent chaotic beings. If he had succeeded, the world you’re aware of, where the supernaturals are in the shadows, wouldn’t exist. They’d be gone and you all would be at the whims of my grandfather and his army of creatures. Despite there being only fifty shades, they can cause a great deal of trouble.”

“If they take on human form?—”

“Take a human body,” he corrected. “They can’t take on human form. What you saw is what they look like in your world, too. They are intelligent and pragmatic, which adds to their level of danger. In a human body, they wouldn’t be perceived as the threat they are.”

“What happens to the human?”

“They become a shell to host the shade. When they take a human’s body, they’re subjected to human frailty. They won’t age, but they are easier to kill. With magic like theirs, getting to the point of killing them becomes harder. They’re known to discard the shell to guarantee their survival. If my father figures out how to control them, he’ll want the same. This world isn’t enough for him. He wants yours, too. He’d use the shades and other supernatural sycophants to subjugate the ones with the highest population.”

Dominic had told me of the numbers and how so many of the supernaturals had infiltrated a significant part of our world. I just wanted to go back to my simple life, but I feared there wasn’t any going back to simple. Because now I knew too much.

I made no effort to hide how troubled I was, and Dominic took the cue. In his eerie strike of movement, he’d picked up the book he let fall to the floor and returned it to its position next to the others.

“Are you willing to let me attempt to take your magic away?”

“Is it safe?”

He gave me a wary half smile. “I think so.”

I’d like more surety, but when it came to magic, that was impossible.

“Let’s try.”

He opened the book and flipped over a few pages until he got to the one with the worrying-looking sigils. He reviewed it. “This isn’t one of the stronger spells, so it shouldn’t leave my magic vulnerable.” Taking my hand, he used the ink to mark my palms with identical markings from the book. When he picked up the knife, I sucked in a breath. The razor-sharp edge would ensure it would cut with the slightest touch to my skin.

“Can’t we use a strand of hair?” I joked in an attempt to calm my nerves. It didn’t help.

“It will be fine.” He kissed the tip of my finger. When he nipped at it, a shudder ran through me. He knew the effect he had on me. He dropped my finger, moving closer, his unoccupied hand grazing my lips, sliding down my neck, easing over my collarbone, over my chest, and teasing my nipples. They responded to the languid featherlight touch. I started panting softly, and my eyes went to his lips, wanting to feel them over the delicate area. To tease, kiss them, and touch me the way he did when he’d searched my body for markings.

“Just one prick. I promise to be gentle,” he told me in a low, sultry voice that promised more than gentle touches.

I jerked back with a sneer. “Stop doing that! You’re making me associate magic with inappropriate things.”

“Luna, I can assure you sex and magic is quite appropriate.”

“Just do it,” I pressed, trying to break the association he was trying to get me to make. Nope. Magic was complex, violent, powerful, and the root of most of my problems. I wouldn’t let one source of it being wrapped in a sexy, dark, sensual package make me forget that.

Chuckling at the sheer determination I was displaying, he took my hand. I blurted, “No touches. No kisses. No rough breathy instructions with sexual innuendos. Let’s just magic.”

He moistened his lips. “Of course, Luna, let’s magic,” he said, breaking all the damn guidelines I’d just put in place. Pointing to the orb, he said, “This will hold the magic. It won’t be able to be used but at least it’ll be out of you.”

“Why didn’t you do this before when Peter used me to free the prisoners?”

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