Page 61 of Wine & Warlocks

From the corner of her eye, she saw Ronan struggle with acceptance. Her terrible discomfort was mild in comparison to the torture he was going through as he watched her writhe on the altar. Alastair had physically restrained him a time or ten.

Just as she thought she couldn’t endure another second, relief came in a wash of cool breeze. Almost too cool, and she shivered from the chilly morning air. From nowhere, Damian produced a heavy wool blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders.

“You’ll feel incredibly cold for a while, and perhaps a little desolate,” he explained kindly. “It will be as if you’re missing a piece of yourself. In another hour, you’ll come to terms with the oddness of the sensation, and you’ll be as you were prior to receiving the O’Malley magic after the prophesy was fulfilled.”

“I’ll be grand,” she promised. “Thank you.”

His perturbed gaze darted toward Ronan and returned to her. “Be careful, Dubheasa. Ronan believes I know what’s to come, and to a degree, I do. The future, however, is fluid, and any small misstep can alter a timeline. It might be difficult to repair that gaffe.”

She nodded her understanding and thanked him when he assisted her off the stone altar.

Ronan rushed to her and swept her into a tight hug. “How are you feeling, love? Are you all right?”

“Other than being suffocated by a giant oaf of a man?”

Cupping her face, he kissed her hard and fast. “You’re a right gas.”

“You’re next, lover boy,” Damian informed him. “Get comfortable.”

“I’ve been through this with you before, and it wouldn’t hurt you to be gentle this time,” Ronan muttered.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Alastair quipped.

“There are times I hate you both.” Glaring, Ronan lay back on the slab and wiggled to get comfortable as the others laughed.

“Do you need me to hold your hand?” Dubheasa asked with a wicked grin as she leaned in and stroked his brow.

“You’re after vexing me, woman, and I’ll not have it,” he growled as he wrapped an arm around her waist and tugged her closer. “It’s time you learn who’s to be the boss of this relationship.”

With a disbelieving snort, she cradled his face, dropping her blanket in the process. “I already know who the boss is, and so do you. But I’ll be sure to remind you whenever you’re after forgetting.”

Her sassy comeback made him laugh, and as he pushed the sweat-soaked hair back from her chilled face, he gave her the gift of warmth with his touch. “Aye. I’ll need reminding from time to time.” Gaze locked on hers, he brushed his knuckles along her cheekbone. “I love you,” he told her in a low voice.

The kiss she bestowed on him was the sweetest they’d shared yet, and her heart felt full to overflowing.

“Try not to scream like a baby,” she said tartly.

He groaned and shooed her away. “Go on with you, shrew.”

After bending to retrieve the blanket, she backed to the spot where he and Alastair had stood during her binding, never breaking eye contact with Ronan.

Two minutes after the Aether began the process for Ronan, his body arched upward as his mouth opened in a silent scream, and Dubheasa struggled against the urge to run to him and ease his suffering.

Having gone through such a painful process, it was difficult to stand by and not do something.

“I understand your desire to go to him, but don’t,” Alastair said from beside her. “If he flails out, you could be injured.”

“It’s awful to watch.”

“It is, indeed.”

“Why is there no numbing spell to ease the discomfort?” she asked desperately.

“Actually, Damian has experimented with them in the past, but it delays the extraction, and the removal of magic takes twice as long.”

Somewhat appeased, she gave in to her curiosity. “Why is there pain to begin with?”

“Our magic is woven into our DNA. Essentially, we’re born with it.”

---