Page 12 of The Warlock's Kiss

“Tend to your sister,” Merrick said, “andstay here.” He turned and walked toward the hall, keeping himself steady only through sheer willpower—and by squeezing that single hair between his fingers, clutching it like a lifeline.

Danny said nothing, but Merrick felt the boy’s gaze on him until he’d turned the corner.

Merrick didn’t know whether that should reassure him or reignite his suspicions.

He hurried up the spiral staircase, taking the steps by twos, and crossed the loft to return to his study, shutting the door behind him. Now that he was alone again, his annoyance resurged—this time directed as much at himself as the two intruders.

Humans were trouble. That had always been true and would alwaysbetrue, no matter how the world changed. All they could possibly do was bring him headaches—and they hadliterallydone sowithin the first few minutes of their arrival!

By the time he reached his desk, his vision was blurred from the pounding in his head. He dropped into the chair, propped an elbow atop the desk, and clamped his finger and thumb over his temples to massage them. Somehow, he’d taken a bit of whatever ailed Adalynn into himself. A touch of her darkness. He wasn’t concerned for the long term—human ailments meant nothing to him either way—but it was frustrating to feel so…weak.

He’d only experienced sensations like this after receiving horrible wounds—wounds that would have killed a mortal—and those had been fortunately few given the length of his life.

While he soothed his temples with one hand, he absently twirled Adalynn’s hair between the fingers of the other. How did she endure this pain? How had she survived like this?

The hair resonated with her mana song; he found himself focusing on it, letting it wash over him, and it brought unexpected comfort in its sweetness and familiarity.

Merrick knew there were human bloodlines carrying magic, and he had to assume those bloodlines had awoken fully with the Sundering, much like his own magic had come into its fullness. Was she the same? He’d read accounts of inherent arcane powers consuming mortals from within because they didn’t know how to vent the building power—their physical bodies could not handle the excess energies. Was that what ailed her?

Was that why he was so drawn to her? Power calling to power was a simple explanation, a neat explanation, a convenient explanation, but it wasn’t therightone. He’d felt no substantial power brimming within her apart from the impressive strength of her spirit.

He squeezed his eyes shut and increased his focus, separating his mind from his discomfort, from his other concerns, from the physical world, until only magic remained. Only magic—and Adalynn.

Her mana song reverberated through him from her hair, and as he attuned himself to it again, he suddenly understood why it was so familiar, why it was so soothing—hehadsensed it before her arrival. It was there, deep within him, underscoring his own song. He’d felt it since his magic had first woken during his adolescence.

Adalynn’s resonance had been playing in Merrick’s heart, ever-present but barely noticeable, for more than a thousand years. The sound of his own heartbeat filled his ears, providing the rhythm for their mingling songs.

He dropped the hair atop his desk and severed his connection with it, withher, but he felt it still at the back of his conscious mind. Felt the call like a siren’s song, luring him down to her. Why should a human have such sway over him? Why should he be compelled to go to her side, to help her, after actively seeking solitude for so long? Why did he have so deep-seated a connection to a mortal?

A sick mortal.

Adyingmortal.

Chapter Three

Adalynn returned to consciousness slowly, as though drawn out of a dream she didn’t want to wake from—a dream in which an ethereal presence had wrapped her in its comforting embrace, freeing her from pain, fear, and guilt. She wanted to stay in that embrace. Why return to a world where everything was falling apart, and only suffering awaited her?

But that wasn’t quite true—Danny was in the real world. He was waiting for her.Heneeded her.

She opened her eyes. Her blurry vision cleared slowly, finally focusing on the ceiling. The flickering light of a nearby fire was just strong enough for her to make out the intricate patterns on the plaster overhead—sweeping, symmetrical flourishes radiating outward in circles and squares from a central light fixture, cast in stark relief by the contrast between shadow and light.

Her brows creased.

Where am I? What happened?

That man confronted us and…and I had a seizure.

Where’s Danny?

Alarm flooded Adalynn; her only concern was for Danny. Was he okay? Was he here? She turned her head and shifted to rise. “Danny?”

“Addy?” Suddenly, Danny was beside her, his face filling her vision as his wide, worried eyes scanned her face. “How do you feel? You okay? You scared the shit out of me.”

“Don’t. Cuss.”

Danny laughed. “Youareokay.” His laughter faded as quickly as it had come. “Really though, you okay?”

Adalynn opened her mouth to tell him she was fine purely out of habit—she was never without some sort of pain or discomfort these days—but it occurred to her that she reallydidfeel fine. Her seizures were usually followed by disorientation, anxiety, and physical exhaustion, but she felt none of that now—only an odd but undeniable sense ofrightness. Her mind was clear, and she felt like she’d just had a solid ten or twelve hours of restful sleep.

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