Page 34 of Forbid Me

The lightning bolts she conjured were focused beams of energy, each one a spear of pure power. They sliced through the air with a sound that was part thunder, part tearing fabric, illuminating the deck with blinding brilliance. The bolts zigzagged toward theirtarget, an unstoppable force seeking to neutralize the threat the witch posed.

The witch couldn't hold the spell, grab for Stella, and ward off the kelpie all at the same time. Self-preservation won out, and the spell broke.

Man and panther lunged for Stella, bringing her into my arms.

As the bolts struck, the air exploded with light and sound, the aftermath of the clash sending ripples across the deck. The witch, caught in the onslaught, had no time for countermeasures. Yet, when the light dimmed and our eyes adjusted, the bitch was gone. But the tang of portal potion lingered in the air.

CHAPTER 23

Stella

As the witch vanished in a puff of smoke, relief made me sag. The tension that had gripped my body released, leaving me unsteady on my feet. Before I could wobble, Oz's arms were around me, pulling me close.

The world righted itself. I was inside the safety of his embrace. The sight of the shifter advancing on him had filled me with a fear so guttural that the panther inside of me had come fully awake. She had clawed to get out. I just didn't know how to let her out. The helplessness of watching, unable to protect the one person who had come to mean more to me than anyone else was a torment I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy.

No, scratch that. I would take joy in watching Ken and his hairy Neanderthal take our places.

As Oz's hold tightened around me, I burrowed into him, seeking the warmth and protection that only he could offer. His scentenveloped me, a reassuring blend of the wild outdoors and something uniquely Oz. It calmed the storm of emotions swirling inside me. I nudged against him, a silent plea for him to hold me closer, tighter, to never let me go. He responded, his arms constricting around me in a protective cocoon that made me feel as if nothing could ever harm me again.

A sharp pain lanced through my forearm. It broke through the haze of comfort and security. I couldn't stifle the yelp that escaped me.

Instantly, Oz's embrace loosened. He pulled back to look at me, his eyes scanning my face and then my body for the source of pain. The sight that greeted him was the blood welling from the deep gash on my forearm, a cruel souvenir from the witch's greed.

She thought my blood would get her out of here? Why, when it hadn't gotten me anywhere?

Oz's reaction was immediate, his hands gently cradling my arm, examining the wound with a focus that belied his worry. His hands went to the hem of his shirt. A ripping sound filled the air.

I should've stopped him. I was going to stop him. But I wanted a peek at what my man was packing first.

His abs did not disappoint. Hello, eight-pack.

"I'm fine," I said, staying his hand before he shredded his entire shirt to form a bandage. "I can fix it."

I extended my arm, watching as my magic emanated from my fingertips. It was like weaving a complex fabric, each thread of the spell meticulously pulling the edges of the wound together, knitting the flesh back into wholeness. The sensation was a tickling tingle. The process was like the detailed work I put into my clothing. I imagined the threads of my magic as fine silk, weaving a pattern of healing over my skin. The edges of the wound closed, the magic mending the torn flesh as easily as it altered a garment's fit.

I hadn't known I was capable of that. Not until the moment before I knew my body needed it. And then, I realized I had the ability to do it.

The pain subsided, replaced by a cool, soothing sensation that spread through my arm. It was working. The wound, which had looked so angry and raw moments before, was now nothing but a thin, red line. I flexed my arm, testing the strength of my work. It was as if the injury had never happened.

"See? Good as new."

Oz ran his fingers over my skin. I tingled in a very different way. Especially with the way he was looking at me. Whatever wall he'd had up between us was gone now. Funny how a near-death experience could do that to a person.

Breathing in deeply, I smelled the stench of death coming off the boat and not just the waters where the pirates had all jumped. As my gaze wandered over the deck of the riverboat, I saw I was far from the only one bearing injuries.

People were huddled together, many of them bleeding from their mouths where teeth had been brutally extracted, a horrific currency in the Crossroads. Others sported bald patches where clumps of hair had been torn out, and still others bore cuts similar to mine.

The air was thick with the scent of blood and fear, a pungent, metallic aroma that mingled with the earthy smell of the riverbank. It was a smell I knew would haunt me, a reminder of how close we had come to losing everything. The sounds of soft sobs and whispered comforts filled the boat, a low murmur of despair that was almost worse than the screams that had preceded it.

And there, lying on the floorboards as I'd predicted, was the fairy. Unlike in my vision, someone had closed her eyes and covered her with a dirty blanket. I took a step toward her but was halted.

"No." Oz's hold on me tightened.

His heart beat steadily against my ear. It was a reassuring rhythm in the midst of the calming madness. But even as I sought solace in his arms, I couldn't ignore the pain of the others.

"I can help." I'd never been able to help in a time of crisis. Unless there was a wardrobe malfunction or makeup mishap.

"No one is near death." His hold on me was absolute. "They'll live."

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