Page 57 of Twisted Magic

“Any kind of wizard can do it, right?”

“Given that they’re sufficiently powerful, that’s what I understand.”

“So it would make sense that each wizard would use whatever type of magic they’re most powerful in. With yours…”

“You think it’s this restoration thing, putting things back the way they should be,” he replied, following her line of thought.”

“Exactly.”

“Except your alternate form isn’t the way you should be.”

“Except that it is,” she argued, happy to be feeling more excited now than full of dread. “No one knows what a familiar’s alternate form will be until they first manifest it, right? The form doesn’t run in families, doesn’t follow any pattern that anyone has been able to discern, even after centuries of study. It seems to be a combination of the familiar and the wizard they’re bonded to—unique to their blend of magic. So, in a way, you would be extracting my alternate form from within me and combining our magics to restore my alternate form to me, one that I wouldn’t otherwise be able to access.”

“Given how fucked up we both are,” he commented drily, “I think we should expect you to become something truly monstrous, in that case.”

“Will you still love me when I’m a swamp creature oozing green slime?” she asked, deadpan.

“Funny girl. And yes.” He kissed her lavishly. “Because you’ll be my green-slime-oozing swamp creature.”

She giggled, surprised at how light she felt, almost giddy. “Forever and always,” she agreed. “So, how do you want to do this?”

“No,” he countered, his smile taking on a wickedly sexy curve, “how do you want to do this?”

“What do you mean?” And why was she suddenly breathless with desire?

“The little I’ve heard implies that putting a familiar into alternate form, at least the first time, requires a transportation beyond the confines of normal fleshly experience, which is why sexual pain and pleasure work so well.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have disappeared the chair of torment,” she muttered.

“Don’t even suggest it,” he retorted sharply, then ran his hands up and down her arms, though she hadn’t thought she needed soothing. Maybe it was for his own sake. “You want us to be stronger together. You say this alternate form would combine our magics? Then we create this magic ritual and we do what you crave. So,” he dropped his voice to a sensual purr, “tell me, Seliah—what are your fantasies?”

~18~

If Selly thought her mouth had gone dry and her breath came hard before, it was nothing to how she felt in the face of Jadren’s bald question. It was all she could do not to look away, though her face grew hot. Jadren waited for her answer patiently, not without keen interest, however. Even contemplating how to answer the question felt like foreplay, and the desire bloomed and billowed between them. It seemed to echo off the shining metal walls on some subliminal level, urging her on to some wild, reckless behavior. Still…

“My fantasies?” she squeaked.

“Yes.” He inclined his head gravely, wizard-black eyes alight with mischief and arousal, his expression intent. “You have to tell me what you want, Seliah. It’s important that this be your fantasy. Your deepest, darkest fantasy. Preferably something taboo.”

“Why does it have to be a taboo, deep, dark fantasy?” she asked, fascinated despite herself, her nerves sizzling with anticipation, her nipples taut peaks and her sex already swollen and aching.

Jadren saw it in her, too. Or felt it, or both. He stroked the bare skin of her arms, just brushing the side-curves of her breasts, tantalizing and teasing. “Because our deepest fantasies hold power,” he answered on a near whisper. “Breaking taboos releases that power.”

“How do you know?”

“I’ve read a lot of books. Long winters. Ancient library with many books on everything you could imagine.”

“I like that image of you, dreaming the snowy days away in the library.” He had so few good things to say about his growing up.

“You’re stalling.” He lifted a hand to cup her breast, passing a thumb over her hard nipple, making her gasp and lean into him. “Tell me, Seliah.”

“I don’t know that I can,” she confessed, breathless, utterly self-conscious.

“You can,” he coaxed. “You trust me, as I trust you. And it’s only the two of us. No one else will ever know.”

She refrained from pointing out that the house would. The house, however, as invested as she seemed to be in the politics of her denizens, whatever level of self-determination she possessed, likely didn’t have much prurient interest in human sexuality. If she did, she wouldn’t tell. Still…

“You won’t think less of me?” she asked, tentative and—all right, she could admit it to herself—embarrassed. Jadren delivered contempt so easily. She didn’t think he would make fun of her for something this important.

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