Page 61 of Twisted Magic

“No transforming me first and tossing me a bloody, raw steak?”

“I was thinking tuna, but no. It’s not good for you to eat in animal form, especially this new in the process. I know that much.”

She filed that information away, enjoying the view of his narrow hips and tight ass in the snug black leather pants. “Nice outfit.”

“The house provided it.” He spun and struck a pose. “Are the lightning bolts too much?”

“They could be pointed at your groin,” she offered in a helpful tone, giggling when he scowled at her. “Not too much,” she answered seriously. “Today is for show, Lord El-Adrel.”

“Hopefully more than show,” he replied, a bleak undertone to his light riposte.

She slipped out of bed and stretched, naked and taking her time, shaking her hair back to leave her body exposed to his gaze. To her everlasting satisfaction, his wizard-black gaze fixed on her with glittering intensity. Many, many years ahead of us together. That sounded awfully good. Prowling toward him, feeling the cat in her blood—she couldn’t wait to try out the form in the marshes—she patted his cheek, then trailed light fingertips down the fiery hair arrowing to his groin, finishing by toying with the half-open placket and the denser growth of silky hair there.

“I believe,” she told him in all sincerity. “You wouldn’t dare fail me.”

His mouth quirked in a half-smile. “Feral creature.”

“And don’t forget it.”

~19~

Jadren was happy. It took him awhile, to identify the unfamiliar, burbling emotion. It felt a bit like having a bleeding wound in his gut, except in reverse, with wellbeing flooding into him like pure water from a fresh spring. Once he realized what it was, he began to worry.

Surely being happy couldn’t be good. Something was certain to go wrong.

Like whatever Bogdan had up his sleeve. His brother wouldn’t go down without a fight, and a dirty, ugly fight at that. Fortunately Jadren wasn’t only bubbling with ill-advised happiness, he also brimmed over with magic—from Seliah plus the El-Adrel arcanium. He should be fine without her reservoir of magic. Never had he been so replete, nor felt so confident in his skills as a wizard.

It must just be habit, worrying like this, expecting disaster. Or it was long and bitter experience. Kind of a toss-up, really.

“Ready?” he asked Seliah.

Despite his grumbling that it was unnecessary, she’d used the grooming imp, declaring she couldn’t bear having snarled hair a moment longer. She’d also donned a figure-hugging gown of black, with artfully placed gold lightning bolts enhancing her curves with subtle suggestion, which told him that she wanted to look the part when he brought her back to human form. Just in case.

“Meow,” she replied, playfully curling her fingers at him like claws.

He shook his head. “This whole being a powerful wildcat thing is making you very difficult to live with.”

“You have no idea,” she purred batting her lashes, and he was hard-pressed not to laugh.

“Now I understand why wizards like to put their familiars in alternate form,” he observed wryly. “It’s the only way to shut them up.”

“It’s not the only way,” she replied, pursing her full lips sensuously. “You could always put your—”

He snicked his wizardry into her being, very much like fitting a key into a lock, and flipping her into alternate form before she could finish that very enticing suggestion and seduce him into making them late for the duel. Probably Bogdan would find a way to have that be a forfeit and wouldn’t that be a fitting end to this effort? Hoisted by his own insatiable cock.

Seliah sat before him in wildcat form, gazing at him with knowing amber eyes. She was a beautiful creature—glossy black fur, broad head crowned by high, tufted ears. Her impossibly long tail, also tipped with a black tuft, curled in front of her, tapping with a hint of impatience her immobile form didn’t otherwise reveal. Lavish black whiskers fanned from her soft, almost smiling muzzle, the bare hint of impressive white fangs protruding. Her massive paws, so soft and fluffy looking at the moment, could extend curved claws the size of his hand.

He hadn’t been kidding that she could kill and eat him. And that he’d die a happy wizard.

“Let’s go win this thing, beautiful,” he said and she uncoiled, coming to stroll beside him. She stood so high at the shoulder that she was at hip-level to him, allowing him to rest a hand casually on her back as they walked through the halls. People started at the size of her, instinctively flinching back, especially when she let those fangs show. They made an impressive sight, he realized, catching a glimpse of the pair of them in a row of tall mirrors as they passed. He was no longer the cringing, whimpering whipping-boy under his mother’s thumb, but a wizard who’d come into his full power, with a familiar unlike any the convocation had ever known.

“Maybe we should make you a jeweled collar,” he said conversationally. “With a dangling medallion—a crescent moon would be pretty—so you can sit beside me and look all feral and impressive.”

She slid him an amber glare, so very like her expression in human form that he nearly choked on a laugh.

“No? Well, we can discuss.” He scratched her behind the ears where she liked it best. “You could have a matching one for human form,” he suggested in a lower voice, for her keen ears only. “To wear on special occasions.”

She turned her head and caught his hand between her teeth, faster than he could yank it away, not biting down, however. This was how cats played, he knew, and recalled how she’d treated him like a giant scratch- and chew-toy in the arcanium.

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