“Good.” She took her grimoire back. “Because it’s true.”
They headedout into the afternoon sun. The forest blazed with autumn colors. Marcus linked their fingers automatically.
They walked in comfortable silence for a while before Hazel squeezed his hand. “You’re quiet.”
“Just wondering how you did it.”
“Did what?”
“Made me forget who I’m supposed to be.”
She stopped walking. “You haven’t forgotten. You just finally remembered who you actually are.”
Before he could respond, Hazel’s expression changed. Color drained from her face.
“Something’s wrong.”
Marcus caught her as she stumbled. “Hazel?”
“The ley line…” She gasped, clutching her chest. “Someone’s corrupted it. It’s draining me.”
Marcus recognized the technique: an old assassination method that turned a witch’s connection to the earth against them. The corrupted energy would drain her in minutes.
“Bastards,” he said, lowering her to the ground. “We need to ground your magic. Now.”
“How?” Her eyes were glazing.
“Through me.” He was already stripping off his jacket and shirt. “Skin to skin contact. I can filter the corruption through my demon nature.”
Hazel’s hands shook as she fumbled with her jacket. “Marcus, if this doesn’t work…”
“It will work.” He helped her with her shirt. “Trust me.”
“Always.”
He pulled her against his chest and opened his magical defenses completely. The corrupted energy hit hard, raw poison designed to burn through witch defenses. But Marcus was a demon with five centuries of control.
“Hold on,” he murmured. “This might feel strange.”
He began filtering her magic through his own. Her power flowed through him, wild and beautiful. But more than that, he felther. Her memories, her emotions, her essence mingling with his.
A young witch rejected by the local coven for being too powerful. Standing in the rain, hearing them vote no.
Successfully brewing her first healing potion. Her grandmother’s proud smile.
Years of loneliness masked by stubborn independence.
Her grandmother’s death. Standing at the graveside alone.
Opening Wicked Brews with fierce determination.
Seeing him in her shop, wanting to mess up his perfect exterior.
And she was seeing him too.
A young demon lawyer’s first case, hands trembling at the podium.
Centuries of hollow victories, promotions that felt empty.
