Page 16 of Taming the Wicked Wolf

“What do you mean?”

“You could have chosen the squeaky toy, it’s made of thin rubber.” I nod towards Poppy’s toy bin, “Or maybe one of the herbs you have set out to dry on the dining room table. You chose the book, knowing you might fail. Why do you want to prove yourself right?”

Emilia frowns and pushes herself up onto her knees, “I didn’t sign up for a therapy session. You were supposed to help me with my magic. If you think this is hopeless.”

“Wait.” I touch her elbow, allowing a trickle of my magic to pass through to her, “I never said you will fail.”

She looks down at where we’re connected, grabbing ahold of my forearm, her touch seeking my magic, then settles onto the floor.

“I will help. Try again.”

“Okay,” she breathes, holding her hand out.

I feed her enough magic to spark the flame. If you’ve been without for years, it’s easy to lose sight of the sensation.

Suddenly, her magic overtakes mine, coursing through my body like an electrical current. It’s been lying there, dormant for so many years, and now it’s starving.

Not just a well of power, an untapped reservoir. She could lead her own coven if she wished it or live as a queen in the demon realm, with all the lesser begging for scraps.

Above all else, her magic feels like home. Not the raging fire that I expected, built upon pain from the defiance in her eyes, but it’s the warmth of sunlight. It’s the comfort of a lover’s embrace and the one thing that she never lost sight of. Hope.

The book slides further across the shelf and launches into the air, flying a good three feet before landing on top of the coffee table in front of us with a satisfying thud. Emilia lets out a whoop and rocks onto her knees, wrapping her arms around my shoulders.

“We did it.” She says against my neck.

“No, you did it.” I gingerly place my hand at her side. I cannot help but lean into her touch, turning to nearly brush my lips against her shoulder.

Emilia pulls away, her eyes searching my face. “What do you mean?”

“I only reminded you what it felt like.”

“Well,” she smiles, her gaze catching on my lips and making my heart skip a beat, “Thank you.” She releases me and sits back, holding her hand out and making the book levitate an inch or so off the table without my help.

It doesn’t seem like much, but it’s far more progress than I had expected.

She closes her fist, and it drops, “I should get ready for work.” She turns to me and presses a kiss to my cheek, then climbs to her feet, leaving the room.

Here I was afraid that she would know everything about me. I never once thought that I would taste her magic and, by extension, know the caress of her soul.

Now, I’m not sure I can think of anything else.

EIGHT

Emilia

It’sa busy night at the bar and my entire body is humming, riding the high of using my powers for the first time in over four years. The world feels brand new. I’m able to feel the threads of magic woven through everything.

Silas swears up and down that he didn’t do much, but I could still feel the warmth of his magic ghosting across my skin. It felt borderline erotic. I can’t explain it.

This makes me wonder about something my mom told me right after Chase proposed.

She said, “He will never understand how it feels, Emmy. Don’t dim your light so that his can shine brighter.”

Young and rebellious Emilia saw that as her mother being a bitter old woman. Things didn’t work out with my biological father. He left not long after I was born and my mom remarried by the time I was three. Dean has always been my dad, blood or not, and I think they are perfect together, but I still saw the comment as prejudice against my choice in partner. We didn’t talk until after the wedding.

I wish I could go back and grab myself by the shoulders and shake. If I had only seen the kernel of truth in it, past my desire to be loved and cherished after being overlooked most of my life. Part of me felt lucky to have him. A small town legend that can charm anyone he meets.

Except for Silas. I’m not sure why, but that makes me happy.

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