“What are you talking about?”
His gaze burned into mine but I was too confused to be afraid. A suppression spell? No one would bother suppressing my magic. It was a trickle at best.
He’d gotten it wrong. I scowled. I felt like shit. I was grateful to whoever had healed me, but there was always a price to healing spells. I’d lost three days in my search to find whoever was killing Samael’s demons, and now I’d be weak and groggy for the next day or so. I scowled at the demon, entirely pissed off.
“I don’t have time for this,” I said, and Samael leaned close. That tiny move radiated threat, and if I wasn’t so panicked about the clock ticking down on my freedom, I might’ve worried about it. Instead, I swung my legs out of his bed.
Those sweatpants weren’t mine. I pushed away the thought of someone dressing me while I was unconscious, and instead focused on not puking over Samael’s gorgeous hardwood floor.
“I suggest you make time, little witch.”
He placed one finger against my chest and nudged me, and that was all it took for me to sprawl back onto the bed.
I grunted, my side burning at the sudden movement. “What the hell, Samael?” I scowled up at the demon as he leaned over me and he pushed my hair back from my face. His hand was warm— almost hot, his fingers rough with calluses. A tiny part of me wondered what those fingers would feel like elsewhere on my body.
“Who suppressed your magic?”
I blinked, my mind still blank at his proximity. Amusement flashed through his silver eyes as he waited for me to pull myself together.
“What are you thinking about?” he purred.
Exactly when did I begin having dirty thoughts about the demon? This was not okay. It must have something to do with being weak and healing from the attack. Witches didnotlust after demons.
“I’m thinking that you’re wrong.”
“My witch found a suppression spell when she examined you.”
I breathed through the fury at the thought of another witch leaning over my unconscious body and focused on what he was saying. “No one would suppress my magic.”
“Oh, but they did.”
I attempted to come to terms with that while he leaned on one elbow, his eyes on my face. I’d never heard of anyone having a suppression spell on their magic before. Other than witches who’d, you know, murdered a bunch of other people. “Okay. Say your witch is right. Why would someone suppress my magic? And how do I get it lifted?”
He raised one eyebrow. “My sources say you don’t often use your magic.”
“I don’t. I prefer not to think about it. But if I’d been able to use it against the hellhound, Agaliarept wouldn’t have been hurt.”
Tuesday was also the closest I’d ever come to dying. I was used to being able to go up against almost anything and come out swinging. I wouldn’t admit it to the demon, but my close brush with death had shaken me to my core.
Beneath my smart mouth was a healthy survival instinct. If my magic could protect me, I’d use it.
“I’m unsure how to lift it,” Samael said. “From the way you created that ward, you may have already begun breaking through it. Spells as powerful as a suppression spell should be renewed, especially when containing a magic as strong as yours.”
“I can’t set wards,” I said automatically. Who was the witch he was talking about, and why was she working for the demons? Or maybe it wasn’t voluntarily. “Why is a witch working for you?”
“Of course you can,” Samael said, ignoring my question, and I ground my teeth.
“I can’t set wards. I can only break them,” I ground out. “I have to pay the witches for the wards on my apartment. Much sneering and whispering ensues. Believe me, if I could do it myself, I would.”
“I know the taste of your magic, little witch. The ward was yours. Something about the attack allowed you to access enough power to set it.”
My mind raced as I considered this. On one hand, if I no longer needed to hire a witch to set my own wards, I’d be spared the humiliation and gossip. On the other hand, it was scary how much I didn’t know about my own magic.
“Think,” Samael said. “How did you set the ward?”
“Ifthat ward was mine, it was instinctive— my magic has usually been instinctive. I don’t know how I did it.”
He nodded. “Children have instinctive magic,” he said, not unkindly, but I felt my face heat anyway. “I will give you ward lessons myself.”
