Hers From The Start: A Collection of First In Series Reverse Harem Page 20

  I follow his advice. Thank the Gods, it works, otherwise I wouldn't have been much use in my next lessons. A demi-goddess without magic is worse than a human.

  "Well done," he grins at me, sitting down on the water as if it was a solid surface.

  "How do I do that?" I ask hungrily. This skill will totally make me feel like a proper deity.

  "You just have to believe that you can," he says simply.

  "Thanks for that extensive explanation," I snarl.

  "You're welcome." He extends a hand and I grip it. A second later, I'm in his arms, standing on the water next to him. Cool. Then he lets go of me, and I fall back into the water.

  "Believe."

  "You do know you sound like some crazy preacher?"

  He smiles. "I believe in you. Guess that makes me a believer in the divine Wynter."

  I gape at him. "I'm not divine."

  "Aren't all Gods?"

  "Yeah, but I'm not a God."

  "Sweetie, you just managed to heat an entire lake. Only Gods and Guardians can do that."

  Okay, I admit, I'm speechless. And a little proud.

  He pulls me out of the water again. He uses so much force that I stumble against him - and I don't really stop. He catches me in his arms and presses me close. That's when I notice that I'm in my wet underwear. And he is naked. Oh, so naked. And apparently, he's noticed the same thing. Instead of releasing me, he hugs me even closer. His hard cock presses against my stomach. I don't mind, strangely enough. My nipples are just as hard - but that's from being wet in the cold Scottish air. And not that kind of wet. I mean, dripping. Nooo. Lake water-wet. That's it. He's not affecting me in the slightest.

  "Wyn," he whispers, and I melt into him. I look up, and my lips part in anticipation of meeting his.

  His kiss is soft and gentle; so different from the demanding kiss of his twin. But it feels just as good. He tastes like the sea, salty and cool at the same time, and I want to savour more of that taste, so I plunge my tongue into his mouth. He moans and runs a hand through my hair, gently guiding my head so I look up at him. His soft brown eyes stare into mine while our tongues dance, and I can see his desire burning in them. I'm sure mine look just the same. I want him. I need him.

  I run my hands over his back, feeling the hard muscles around his shoulder blades. He nibbles on my bottom lip, and in surprise, I claw at his back, my fingernails leaving marks on his skin. He moans again and it makes me even needier. My Guardians have been teasing me for so long - first Storm, then Arc, now Frost. I need more than just their kisses.

  So, I go in for the kill. I grab his arse with both hands and squeeze, pulling his pelvis against me, rubbing his hard cock against my belly.

  "Wyn," he gasps, pulling back from my lips for a moment. I wait for him to say something, but he only continues to breathe heavily. Well, he had his chance. I stand up on my toes and kiss him. He sighs against my mouth, then returns the kiss, hungrily. He's more forceful now than before; the sweet kiss has turned into a victorious conquest.

  I run my hands over his back again. I need his touch. I need to feel him.

  He pulls back, but only for a moment, then gently presses my shoulders, motioning me to the ground - well, the water's surface. I still can't believe we're standing (making out) on top of a loch. But I don't have time to ponder, as he pushes me down until I'm lying on my back, looking up at him. He kneels by my side, running his hands over my belly, then higher, until he reaches my breasts. He kneads them through the wet bra I'm still wearing.

  "Take it off," I whisper hoarsely, and he complies, carelessly pushing it up until my boobs are exposed.

  "You're beautiful, Wyn," he groans, and leans down, taking my left nipple in his mouth. He uses his hands to gently squeeze the other one, running circles around my puckered areola. I moan and arch my back. No idea how he manages to get me to this point just by kissing, but I feel so close to coming already. My skin is hot and I am desperate for release. He's teasing me, but I need more. I grip his head with both hands, pulling him off my breast and pushing him downwards.

  He chuckles. "I was going to get to that, Princess."

  "I need you now," I groan. "Please."

  His tongue traces a line on my skin. When he reaches my belly button, he nibbles on it. I almost laugh, but it turns into a moan. I push him further. Stupid Guardian. He's not getting the message.

  I'm getting hotter - and I mean my temperature. I can feel sweat pooling on my forehead. No other man has ever made me feel this way. I'm desperate for a drink, but I'm even more desperate to feel Frost, all of him.

  His tongue has finally reached its destination. Almost. So close. But he teases me, licking too high, not in the right spot. And he knows it.

  "Frost!" I shout, ignoring how needy I sound.

  He chuckles, then finally presses his tongue against my core. I cry out, and so does he.

  But while my cry is in pleasure, his is in pain.

  "Stop, Wyn, stop it!"

  I sit up and gasp in shock. A circle of flames surrounds us, violently fighting against the water barrier Frost is throwing up against it. Sparks are exploding all around us.

  He turns and I can see his back, the skin an angry red where the fire burned him. I panic.

  "I don't know how to stop it!" I cry, wringing my hands at the chaos I have caused.

  "Pull back your magic!" Frost shouts back, throwing his arms in the air, summoning a wave that crashes against the wall of fire. But it's not enough to quench the fire.

  Get a grip, Wyn. You can't let him get hurt even more.

  I concentrate until I can see my magic, flaring angrily all around me. I've never seen it so violent. I try to pull it back, but it doesn't react. My usual magic tendrils have turned into a raging inferno that's totally out of my control.

  "Stop it at the source!" Frost calls desperately, throwing more water at the fire.

  I close my eyes and search for my heart cave inside. It's burning; the cave is filled with flames. My magic is snarling at me angrily; she's telling me it's not her fault. I ignore her and pull in some water magic like Frost taught me earlier. I pour it in into the cave, more and more, until it extinguishes the flames. From my Guardian's relieved sigh, I know that the fire around us has also been extinguished.

  My magic shakes her dripping fur, shoots me an evil look and turns, licking her wounds.

  Which reminds me...

  "Frost, how bad are you hurt?" I run to where he is kneeling on the ground, his shoulders slumping with exhaustion.

  "It's okay, Princess, I've had worse."

  "It's not okay, my magic hurt you. I hurt you." I sink down next to him, examining his back. It's bad. Burns are covering most of the skin, ranging from bright red to blistering.

  "We need to get you to Crispin," I whisper, my heart turning cold in shame. This is all my fault.

  I help him up, pulling one of his arms over my shoulders, and together we make our way back to the cottage.

  Him, burnt and naked. Me, miserable, guilty, in my underwear.

  Chapter Twelve

  “What have you done now,” Crispin huffs.

  “It wasn’t me,” Frost protests, but Crispin just raises an eyebrow and ushers us inside the cottage.

  Aodh and Chesca are sitting in the living room, but get up when they see us. The Guardian motions us to the sofa. “You can lie down there, Frost.”

  Chesca mutters something about blood stains, but one look from her Guardian lover silences her. Wow, I hadn’t realised just how much influence he had on the demon diva.

  With a groan, Frost sinks onto the sofa. Crispin stands next to him, moving his hands through the air above Frost's burned back. I can see him weaving a net of thin magic strands, delicate and beautiful.

  "This is your first lesson in healing," Crispin mutters, his forehead scrunched in concentration.

  "I hadn't planned it to be like this," I reply sadly.

  "Don't worry, Princess," Frost calls, his voice mu
ffled from between two pillows his head is lying on. "I'm happy to be a lab rat for you."

  "Ehm... thanks. You're making me feel so much better."

  He laughs, then groans as Crispin lowers the woven-magic-net onto his back.

  "Magic by nature is without purpose," Crispin explains while manipulating the web. "Only the magic user's intention turns it into a tool. When I wove this net, it was just a shape, nothing more. Just energy assembled in a certain way. Now, though, I'm putting intention into it. I'm telling it to take on a purpose and heal Frost's injuries. You need to give it precise instructions. It's easy if it's something like 'light a candle', but with healing, you need to tell it exactly what to do. Which is why medical knowledge is essential even for a magic healer. I need to know what the skin needs to be healed. Does it need fluids, blood, chemicals to mend itself."

  "So even though I have magic and could weave a web like yours, I wouldn't actually be able to use it to heal?" I ask, a little confused. This sounds so unlike the magic I normally use.

  "You may be able to heal a broken bone, but you likely wouldn't be able to repair the injured tissue around the break. Once we're in the Realms, I'm going to teach you the basics so you can heal at least minor injuries yourself."

  Frost snickers. "What he's basically saying is that this is a lesson in how you know nothing and how he can't teach you just now."

  In response, Crispin flicks a finger and a part of this magic net presses down on Frost's skin. He wails.

  "What were you saying, my friend?"

  "Nothing. Only that you're the best healer ever. Now could you please get on with it?"

  Crispin sighs. "As you wish."

  With practised movements, he waves his hands through the air, his fingers manipulating the magic like a spider tugging on her web. Some of the magic strands flow into Frost's body, others spread out on his skin. Slowly, I can see them having an effect. His flesh looks less red, and the blisters shrink until they disappear completely. Within minutes, Frost's back is as flawless as it was before the... accident.

  With a final shake of his hands - think maestro conducting the final notes in a symphony - Crispin lets the magic dissipate and steps back from his patient.

  "Now, would someone please tell me how Frost ended up burned while teaching you water magic?"

  The other Guardians have joined us in the living room to listen to my sorry tale. It's the most embarrassing story I've ever had to tell. I set the man I was going to have sex with on fire.

  Yeah, I'm sure that happens to everyone at some point in their lives. Not.

  When I finish, there's silence. Even Chesca is quietly staring at the floor. It's making me realise just how bad this is.

  "You said you felt hot just before it happened," Aodh finally says thoughtfully.

  "Of course she felt hot. Just look at him," his lover giggles. "If I had those muscly arms touching me, I'd be hot as well."

  I blush. In fact, my face has been red throughout this whole conversation. They all wanted to hear a lot of detail... Embarrassing.

  "Maybe it was just because her magic hasn't settled yet," Storm suggests. "She's not had time to properly explore what she's capable of."

  "It doesn't sound like a normal flare," Crispin replies. "No, she said her magic was under attack - right, Wyn?"

  "I don't know if that's the right word for it. My cave," Frost snickers at that word for some reason, "was on fire, just like everything around us. But I don't know what happened first."

  "Aodh, you're the expert in fire magic," Storm says. "Have you ever heard of this happening?"

  The Guardian shakes his head. "Not that I can remember. I'll have a look through my books though, maybe I can find something."

  "Good. Arc will help you. Frost, you need to sleep, the healing will have used up a lot of your energy. Crispin, it's your turn to teach Wyn. But this time, I'm staying with you. If something like this happens again, I don't want you to be on your own."

  I'm about to protest, saying that being with Crispin doesn't mean I'm on my own, but one look at Storm's stern face shuts me up. I know a lost fight when I see it.

  I sigh. "Okay then, what do we do?"

  Instead of going outside like I did with Arc and Frost, Crispin takes us upstairs, into one of the bedrooms. I'm beginning to love this cottage more and more. Everything is so tastefully decorated, quaint and cute. I'd imagine a little old woman to live here, not a demon diva. I'm totally going to call her that from now on. It fits.

  We sit down on the thick rug that covers most of the floor in front of a four-poster-bed. Storm stands in the door, watching. He's making me nervous. With him here, I feel it's like a self-fulfilling prophecy, a magic accident waiting to happen.

  "Would you please sit down," I say tensely when he still doesn't move. He huffs and moves across the room, sitting down on the bed. He's just as tense as I am; poised to jump up and intervene. I hope that won't be necessary.

  "Wyn, we don't have much time," Crispin interrupts my worried thoughts. "You've had your lessons with Arc and Frost, do you think you learned enough to use those elements tomorrow?"

  I think about that for a second. Despite the mishaps and disappointments, I have learned something. Hell, I managed to throw Frost across half the lake. And I kept Chesca out of my head - something I'm enormously grateful for. I feel like I've only begun to scratch the surface of what I could do if I had more time, but there isn't any. We still don't know who tried to kill me, and the longer we stay here, the easier it will be for them to find us. We need to get through the Stones, demon army or not.

  "Yes, I think the water will come in handy. Although, I've only used water magic while actually standing in the loch. How do I summon it while being on dry land?"

  Storm sighs and I cringe. I can feel his disappointment prickle on my skin.

  "Frost taught you to connect to the water's essence, to recognise it. Now that you've done that, it's easy. Stretch out your magic just now. There's water all around you, in the air, in the ground, in the pipes. If you pull strong enough, it will come."

  I stretch out my awareness and notice he's right. I see the world around me differently now. It's like I've developed a new sense - faint, but still there. I know that there's a pipe just below my right foot; I know that there's a little stream about fifty yards away from the cottage. I can even feel the water in the Guardians' blood around me.

  My surprise must have been visible on my face, because Crispin gives me a wide smile. "You got it?"

  I nod, returning the smile. Finally, success.

  "Won't it take a lot of energy though to summon water all the way from the stream?"

  "Not if you give it some leeway. Can you feel in what direction the water is flowing?"

  "Yes, away from here, towards the sea."

  "Good. If you were to summon water from the sea to you, it would be against its flow, against its nature, so you would need a lot of energy. But if you take it from the other direction, it's already flowing towards you, so you only speed it up a little. Doesn't take much force to do that."

  "Makes sense." I think back to the water I felt around me. "Silly question, but can I get water from blood?"

  "No," Storm thunders, making me jump a little. "Never, ever manipulate the magic within other beings unless you want to harm them."

  "Of course I wouldn't want to harm you, but what about the demons? Couldn't I like... I don't know, make their blood boil or something?"

  Storm opens his mouth to say something, but Crispin is quicker. "It's a valid question, Wyn. One reason we don't do that is because most people don't have enough control to only affect the blood in one demon. They might injure or even kill their comrades." He sighs. "It's one of the few ways Guardians can be killed."

  "Oh." That shuts me up - for a few seconds, at least. "But if you had the control, wouldn't it make sense-"

  "You've proven earlier that you do not have the control, so stop arguing," Storm shouts, getting up from th
e bed. I gape at him, but then nod. He's right. And it was his brother who I burned, so it makes sense that he's angry. But still, why does it hurt so much to see the anger on his face? Anger that's directed at me?

  "Storm, take a moment," Crispin admonishes his fellow Guardian. "Go outside, Wyn needs to concentrate."

  Storm gives him an annoyed look, but leaves the room, leaving us alone. Only now do I notice that my eyes are a little wet. Oh Wyn, why are these men making you behave like a hormonal cry-baby?

  "He doesn't mean it, Wyn," Crispin says softly. "What you asked... he lost a friend that way. It's not a pretty way to die. When you've seen it once... well, you'll only use that method when there's no other choice."

  "I understand," I whisper, mortified at what Storm must have thought of me.

  Me, behaving like the murderer of his friend.

  "I know you do," Crispin smiles. "Which is why I know you would have asked many other questions, am I right? We just chose to focus on the wrong one."

  I frown. "But how am I supposed to fight if I don't know anything? A day isn't enough to prepare. Am I just supposed to drop a ball of water on those demons? All Arc taught me is how to shield my mind. That won't help me when a demon is standing in front of me, trying to kill me. I need tools, weapons, something quick that will help us get through to the Stones without getting killed."

  "And that," Crispin is still smiling, "is why you're here now. You know I'm a healer, but knowing how to mend a body also means knowing how to break one."

  Understanding grows in me. And sadness at the thought of Crispin, this innocent, funny, helpful Guardian having to use his healing magic in such a way. It's wrong. And despite his smile, his clenched fists tell me that there is a story here. One I'm not sure I want to hear.

  I've always known that there was more to Crispin than his cheery exterior. But now that I may be close to finding out more about it, and I'm pretty sure I don't actually want to.

  "There are many ways people die." Crispin's voice has turned cold; his face an emotionless mask. How did he change so quickly?