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  The pain inside drifted away and strength surged through her, leaving her breathless, followed by a deep calm and a sense of peace.

  Was it over?

  The mark on her chest burned and she grasped Taig’s upper arms, her fingers digging into his flesh. White-hot light burst through her, her power sending a shockwave through him and the room, and her hands blazed bright red.

  “Taig!” she cried as she climaxed, her body trembling all over.

  Taig reared up and roared, burying himself deep in her core, and then collapsed against her, breathing fast into her ear, his release filling her.

  Her hands slipped away from his arms and she panted as her magic subsided, leaving her shaking beneath Taig.

  When he eventually regained control and moved to rest on his elbows above her, their bodies still intimately entwined, she checked him over. He seemed all right, albeit a little dazed. Dull ebony eyes fixed on hers, his expression distant, but he didn’t look as though he was in pain and he was in one piece at least. She ran her gaze over him. The scratches on his broad bare chest were gone. Not even scars remained. Her eyes dropped to his left arm where she had been holding him. They widened. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him look down too.

  There, emblazoned on his skin, was the intricate runic mark that they had given to her when the joint covens had recognised her as a witch.

  It wasn’t possible.

  “What does it mean?” Taig eased back and kneeled between her legs. He pulled his arm around and frowned at the mark. She could only stare at the symbol. It was definitely her mark and it was definitely real, and no matter how long she looked at it, it wasn’t fading or going away.

  Her heart thundered. What did she tell him? It was hard to judge how he was going to react to the truth. Either he would be immensely smug, or incredibly angry.

  She sat up, her eyes never leaving the mark.

  It wasn’t going anywhere, no matter how many times she told herself it wasn’t possible. He was a demon.

  “You... you’re...” Lealandra couldn’t get the words out. Taig moved closer to her, his hand catching her jaw and raising her head so her eyes met his. She blinked. Just a glance into his pitch black eyes left her breathless and turned her skin to goose flesh. There was such an aura of power and sensuality around him, of preternatural strength and otherworldly beauty, and most of all, of affection and concern. Her words left her automatically, sounding distant to her ears as she stared into his eyes. “You’re my Counter-Balance.”

  Taig laughed. When her serious expression didn’t change, the smile fell from his face and his laughter died.

  “I’m not a witch. I’m not even human.” Evidently, he was thinking along the same lines she had been.

  She wracked her brain, trying to remember everything she had learned about the ascension and Counter-Balances.

  She shrugged. “No one has ever had a demon as a Counter-Balance before, but there’s nothing that says it isn’t possible... I mean, what if my power needs someone stronger than a witch to balance it and provide me with control?”

  Taig stared at her, blinked slowly, and then slumped into a relaxed position, his broad shoulders falling.

  “What does this mean?” He glanced at his arm again.

  She knew what he was asking. He wanted to know where it left them and what the future held.

  “I need you, more now than I’ve ever done. Without you, I’ll have little control over my power. Just your presence alone is enough to calm it. I can feel your effect just sitting here. Borrowing your blood would give me total control over the magic now.” The thought of relying on Taig so heavily frightened her and she watched him closely for a sign that he would accept the burden that she had placed on his shoulders without his consent. She needed him.

  Reaching out, she touched his cheek, her fingertips lightly resting against his cool skin. His eyes met hers again, dark and intense.

  “The mark means you’re bonded to me. I can’t do anything to undo it. I’m sorry. I know I’m asking a lot—”

  “A mark of bonding?” He cut her off, his deep voice full of curiosity.

  Lealandra nodded.

  It was the only way that she could explain it. Charlie hadn’t worn her mark because she hadn’t wanted to bond with him. She hadn’t realised that she had wanted to bind herself to Taig though. The Counter-Balance was effective without her mark on his skin. Now she had tied him to her for everyone to see.

  Had her fear of him leaving her driven the magic to claim him so she would never be without her Counter-Balance again?

  Her heart hammered erratically in her throat as he stared at her, silent and distant, pensive. What was he thinking about? Her eyebrows furrowed and she wished she could bring herself to smile or say something stupid to lighten the heavy atmosphere between them and lift the tension from the room. Fear whispered malicious things in the back of her mind, making her believe that when he next spoke the words that left his lips would be ones to hurt her.

  Taig looked down at his arm again, the black spikes of his hair obscuring his eyes. “It’s not very fair is it?”

  Lealandra’s pulse rocketed and her chest ached. He wanted it off him. Her gaze followed his hand as he rubbed the mark. He didn’t want to be hers. Her heart felt as though it was breaking all over again.

  She frowned when he reached over his left shoulder, causing his muscles to tense and bulge, and pressed his hand against his back. His right hand caught hold of her left upper arm, clamping down on it and holding it so tightly that a sting of pain shot down to her fingertips. Before she could speak, searing heat scorched her skin where his hand touched her. She gritted her teeth and grimaced, flinching away from the fiery burning, fearing he was going to punish her for what she had done even as her heart cried out that Taig wouldn’t do such a thing. He wouldn’t hurt her. He loved her.

  The flames subsided and he took his hand away. She immediately looked down at her arm, afraid of what she would see and confused about what he had been doing. There on her skin was a deep red tattoo of his mark.

  He grinned. “Now we’re even.”

  “But what does it mean?”

  Taig smiled, stroked her cheek, and then pulled her into his arms and kissed the breath out of her.

  Lealandra realised that was all the answer he was going to give her. She tried to break free but he wouldn’t let her go. Her magic hummed with satisfaction at the taste of him. Was just kissing him going to placate it now and bring it under control? It was strange to think that she had bonded with him and that he was her Counter-Balance. She knew it wasn’t because he had a human side. That side bore no magic and had no power. It was the demon in him that her magic had chosen as its balance.

  She was going to have to visit her parents again to tell them about it and that she had survived her ascension. They would be thrilled to hear it and curious to know that a witch could have a demon as their Counter-Balance. Considering the bad blood between demons and witches though, she didn’t see it catching on.

  Taig stiffened and growled, pushing her away. He stared at the front door.

  Lealandra turned to look there and her eyes widened when she saw the state of his apartment. She had decimated it. Everything lay broken around them and the wall to the bedroom was no longer there and neither was the kitchen. The red fridge still stood against the outside wall but the shockwave of her power had crushed it flat. She glanced at the windows and front door again. They were intact. Had Taig’s power protected them? Had the marks he had scored on the frames stopped her magic from escaping and blasting a hole in the building?

  Taig’s power spiked, a black wave that warned of danger and sent fear surging through her.

  “What’s wrong?” She moved closer to him and stared at the front door. What had he sensed out there?

  “We’ve got company.”

  CHAPTER 21

  Lealandra jumped when someone knocked at the door. Her power stretched out, wanting to know
who Taig had sensed. They knocked again, a double rap this time, and Lealandra felt their impatience and something else too. She knew them.

  Taig stood, walked through the rubble to what used to be the kitchen and dug through it for his knife. Lealandra stumbled to her feet, winced her way barefoot over the mess, and caught his wrist. He looked down at her hand and then into her eyes.

  “Wait.” She frowned at the door, focusing her power there. Her eyes widened when she realised who was on the other side. They weren’t here to harm them. At least, she hoped they weren’t. Gregori couldn’t have turned this person against her, surely? She stooped, picked up her dusty robe from the mess that she had caused and quickly put it on.

  She snapped her fingers. Black jeans encased Taig’s lower half. Another snap of her fingers and everything that littered the room began to fix itself. Lealandra focused hard to recall what it had all looked like before she had destroyed it. The kitchen popped back out, cupboards unravelling from the wall until they gleamed black again and the red refrigerator no longer resembled a pancake. The kitchen island rose up from the ashes and the white square pillar beside it reassembled itself.

  Her magic fixed the bedroom wall next, reconstructing it and the bedroom beyond. The black coffee table and couch near her in the living room reversed through time until they were perfect again, and the huge flat screen television retook its place on the white wall.

  The other walls repaired themselves around her and she turned at last to the long black side table that lined the one opposite the television. It pieced itself back together and a final sweep of her power told her that everything was back to how it had been.

  Lealandra marvelled at the ease of it. Before her ascension, it would have drained her to perform such widespread and varied spells to undo the damage. Even fixing mechanical things like the television were simple for her to do now. She smiled when she saw the picture of Taig’s parents on the sideboard. She hadn’t needed to reconstruct that. It had survived unscathed, protected by Taig’s superior power.

  That was a godsend.

  It was bad enough that she had wrecked his apartment and then bonded with him without asking. If she had damaged the photograph, Taig would have killed her. She glanced at her arm, the dirty white robe hiding the mark from view. What had Taig done to her?

  Taig quirked an eyebrow at his apartment, picked up his black-handled hunting knife from the floor, and then pressed the flat of his hand against her chest when she went to move past him to the door.

  “Where do you think you’re going, little missy?”

  She tried to get past him the other way but he blocked her again.

  “It’s safe.” She took hold of his hand.

  “It’s a witch,” he countered and tugged his hand free and folded his arms across his broad chest. His biceps bulged and his chest tightened. He frowned at her. “No witch is safe right now.”

  “This one is.” Lealandra disappeared and reappeared by the door. Taig growled, grabbed her arm and pulled her back behind him.

  “If you’re so bloody insistent, at least let me answer it. It’s my damn door.”

  Lealandra huffed and waved her hand towards the door. If he wanted to answer it, then it wasn’t really her place to stop him. It was his apartment after all. She just hoped that the witch on the other side wouldn’t make a wrong move. Her gaze fell to the knife clutched tightly in his hand. If Taig tried to harm her, Lealandra would have to intervene. She didn’t want to see this person hurt. For all the times that she had faked her feelings when at the coven there had been countless moments more when she had felt true emotions towards this witch. If she could call anyone at the coven friend, it was her.

  Taig stormed to the door and opened it. There was a quiet gasp from the other side. Lealandra could picture the sort of face Taig would be making and it was frightening, especially when his eyes were red.

  “Can I help you?” he snarled and then rolled his shoulders, as though they were bothering him. His power rose, flowing through Lealandra, speaking of his irritation.

  “Is Lealandra home?” A shy female voice echoed through the room.

  Lealandra smiled at the sound of it—familiar and comforting, someone she knew that she could trust to be on her side.

  “What makes you think this Lealandra you’re looking for is here, kiddo?” Taig’s broad form blocked Isabelle from view. Lealandra couldn’t blame him for being suspicious but she knew how Isabelle had found her and it wasn’t through Gregori.

  “I followed my... er... magic. This might sound crazy but I’m a witch.”

  “No shit. You might not have noticed but I’m a demon and I could sense you a mile off. As far as I see it, there’s only one way you’re getting past me. You’ve just gotta tell me the truth.” Taig shifted his shoulders again and Lealandra sensed the increase in his power, and his irritation. “Tell me how you found her and maybe I’ll let you through. If you won’t tell me or I don’t like your answer, I’ll eat you.”

  Isabelle squeaked. Lealandra smiled. Taig wouldn’t eat Isabelle but it was just like him to throw his weight around.

  “She shared a spell with me once. It’s a sort of tracker. I got lost a few times when I first moved to the coven, so she let me use her as a beacon and then I could find my way back without a problem... so please don’t eat me.”

  Lealandra covered her mouth to stifle her giggle. Taig looked over his shoulder at her and she nodded to confirm that Isabelle was telling the truth.

  “Let her in, Taig, please?”

  He rolled his shoulders again, frowning, and then stepped backwards.

  He didn’t let the woman pass him. He backed towards Lealandra, his strong shoulders tensed, the muscles in them clearly visible, and his fingers tightly clutching the knife. Something moved beneath his skin. Dark spots appeared on his shoulder blades.

  Taig stopped just in front of Lealandra, his back still to her, and she reached up and touched his shoulders. The spots grew darker and rose into bumps. Two tiny points broke the skin. It was the only warning Lealandra had before Taig’s dragon-like wings unfurled, so close to her face that air beat against her, and stretched across the room.

  Lealandra smiled. He was protecting her again. When the demons had dared to attack them, he had done the same thing, using his wings to shield her. She touched his back between his shoulder blades and wings, silently letting him know that she was fine and that he didn’t need to protect her from this person.

  “Go cool off,” she said and Taig looked over his shoulder at her again. The flames of Hell burned in his eyes. “I need to talk to her.”

  He didn’t move.

  “I’ll be fine. Just give me a moment, okay? You’ll know if I need you.”

  Lealandra jumped when his wings curled back up, shrinking down at the same time, and disappeared under his skin. The jagged marks healed, leaving his skin unbroken. It was fascinating to watch the process. He looked at her one more time and then walked into the bedroom. Her gaze fell on the slim young woman who had come to visit her. There was more fear in her green eyes now and a more wary air to her than when they had last met. It had been a while since Lealandra had seen Isabelle but she hadn’t expected such a dramatic change. The bright youthful and carefree aura that had surrounded her was gone, replaced with a darker fearful one. Her mousy hair was as wild as ever, the waves loosely held back in a knot, strands of it falling out. She smiled but no trace of happiness touched her eyes. It hadn’t in weeks.

  “Lea,” Isabelle said and moved over to her, her arms out as though she was going to embrace her. A growl from the bedroom stopped her dead and she frowned at the open black door. Her arms fell to her sides. “Your new man is a bit of an animal.”

  Lealandra smiled and sat down on the black couch. She patted the spot next to her. Isabelle sat and arranged the long trumpet sleeves of her black fairy-like top across her lap. Lealandra had always wondered how someone like Isabelle managed with such long sleeves. She was
rather accident-prone at times.

  “He won’t eat you, and he’s my old man, actually.” Lealandra glanced at the bedroom door. She could sense Taig stomping around it. He wasn’t doing it literally. He was walking quietly. But she could feel in his mind that it was a definite stomp. A quiet stomp. He wasn’t happy about letting another witch into his home and she couldn’t blame him for being cautious. He only wanted to protect her. Her smile widened. He went into the bathroom and the sound of water running broke the silence. “And my Counter-Balance.”

  “He’s a demon—”

  “It is possible.” Her gaze shifted back to Isabelle and she could see in her green eyes that she didn’t believe her. It was a look that she recognised, one that another had been prone to giving her whenever she had said something they hadn’t agreed with. “Our balance doesn’t need to be a human bearing magic. Taig gives me balance like no other has, not even Charlie.”

  The room fell quiet and the air between her and Isabelle turned as thick as tar. Lealandra stared at her hands where they rested in her lap. They were dirty against her white bathrobe. She had fixed the apartment but had forgotten to fix her appearance. How bad did she look? She casually touched her hair. It was knotted and all over the place. She could still taste blood. How did it look to Isabelle? She probably thought that she was interrupting some sort of sex-fest. It probably looked terrible, especially after everything they had been through together.

  “I’m sorry about what happened to him,” Lealandra whispered.

  Isabelle remained quiet.

  Lealandra sighed and took hold of her hand. It was warm and she could feel Isabelle’s magic rising within her, coming to the surface to meet her own power. Young magic that was weak compared to her old magic. Her power interlaced with it, giving strength rather than drawing it, as though it had felt Isabelle’s need for stronger magic in her time of need.