Steamy Saturday Snippet -- Raine & Mychael

As promised, here's a snippet of a scene between Raine & Mychael from The Trouble with Demons, which will be on bookstore shelves one week from Tuesday.

"The demon said that if I came to him, he'd let Piaras and Talon live."

Mychael went dangerously still. "He wanted you?"

I waited a few heartbeats before answering, a little taken aback by his intensity. "He didn't tell me what he had in mind, and I didn't ask. From the look on his face, he was going to enjoy it and I knew I wouldn't."

The air around Mychael flared with power. It was magic, definitely lethal, and its target was that purple demon. Then in a blink of an eye the aura was gone, clamped down tight by the sheer force of Mychael's will, only to be replaced by something more primitive, more male.

"Are you all right?" he demanded.

"Shaken up, but he didn't lay a claw on me."

The power still flowing from him swept over my skin, and I forced back a shiver of pure sensation.

Mychael realized what he was doing and resisted touching me, even though not touching me seemed to take as much effort as not going after that demon. "Raine, I want you to come back to the citadel with me. You're not safe on Phaelan's ship."

I'd stayed in the citadel since arriving on Mid a few weeks ago, but the past few days I'd been on the Fortune. The accommodations Mychael had provided for me had been luxurious, but with guards posted outside my door, a gilded cage was still a cage. My family doesn't do cages very well.

"Mychael, I'm not safe anywhere, and you know it. Vegard never leaves my side, but if it makes you feel better, post a couple more Guardians, though with literally all hell about to break loose, I doubt if you can spare them. I may not be any safer on the Fortune, but I'm happier. If I can't be safe, I'll take happy."

Mychael sat back and raked his hand through his hair. I knew I'd been one exasperation right after another since the day we'd met.

"I won't allow myself to be locked up," I told him.

"I would never lock you up. You know that."

"If I went back, you wouldn't let me leave, so what's the difference?"

"You'd be alive."

"Possibly."

"No, definitely." Mychael said it as if he dared Death to defy him.

"Mychael, I can't let you--"

"Can't let me what? Protect you? Save you? Keep the next demon from carrying you off? Dammit, Raine, I won't stand by and--"

He took my hand and the shock of his magic raced up my arm. My breath exploded in a hiss, not of pain, but of every nerve ending suddenly and sharply aware. The air was crisp and alive and filled with scents magnified a hundredfold: the wood of the chair and table, the metallic tang of Mychael's armor and weapons, and his unmistakably masculine scent. My magic surged forward to meet his, matching him, giving as good as I got. Our magics coiled and twisted, weaving us together, and I was keenly aware of his every pulse, every muscle, the surging of blood through his veins.

And he was just as aware of me--all of me. I was transfixed as his eyes darkened from sun-kissed tropical seas to ocean depths. As his power filled me, I saw what he'd done to the demons that had ambushed him and four of his men. When my magic rose to meet his, Mychael felt what I had done to that demon.

And he knew that Tam and I had done it together.

That thought broke whatever hold our powers had on us.

I pulled my hand away, dragging air forcibly into my lungs. "What the hell was that?"

Mychael's eyes were like twin sapphires. "Magic most potent." His deep voice was rich and vibrant; it was his spellsinger's voice. He wasn't doing it on purpose; it was simply remnants from the power that still roiled within him.

I was about to say "no shit" to his assessment, but the memory of what Tam and I had done froze the words on my lips.

It was my magic that had focused Tam's power, and my magic that had just surged into Mychael. The Saghred hadn't had a thing to do with either one.

I felt my hands start to shake and I let them. At least they knew what to do next. "What did you do?"

In response, Mychael tentatively reached out to touch me, but stopped when the air between us crackled with static. The sensation ran up my spine like a warm hand in a velvet glove. Damn, but that felt good. Too good. I held the breath I'd just taken and flattened myself against the back of my chair.

"Stop," I managed. "No touching."

Mychael slowly pulled his hand back.

We had touched more than each other's hands before, but absolutely nothing like this had ever happened.

In that exact instant, Mychael had the same thought; I felt the echo from it flicker inside my mind.

My own thoughts skittered in panicked circles. "I can hear you thinking."

Mychael sat unmoving. "It's fading, but I can sense your thoughts, too."

Damn.

"I agree," he said.

I hadn't said it out loud. Double damn.

"Anything like this ever happen to you before?" I asked him.

"Never." Mychael's eyes were on mine; they were slowly returning to their normal color. "Was this similar to what happened with you and Tam?"

I hesitated before answering. "Yes . . . and no. Yes, my magic felt the same as when Tam and I bottled that demon." I paused. "But Tam didn't feel anything like you."

"I'm not Tam." Mychael's voice was deeper, huskier.

I swallowed. "I noticed."