He’d never had a taste of another witch so powerful. His skin itched as he watched her set the circle. His body ached for her, drawn to her. His power pressed against his skin.

“I invite you into the circle.” Her eyes lit with the power she’d unleashed, her creamy-pale skin took on a pearlescent glow. Taking in that beauty for long moments, he snapped out of it and stepped in with her, clasping her hands. And for a second everything in him and all around him settled and was totally silent, as if holding a breath.

“I’m just going to key you in. It shouldn’t take very long. Let my power recognize yours and get your signature. Open yourself and let me in.” She paused when he didn’t comply right away. He wasn’t sure what to do. It wasn’t like he ever let anyone in like she was asking. And that tautened sense of something about to happen rode his senses so hard it made him suspicious of it.

She pressed a hand at his sternum. “Your magick lives here. And our shields are a sort of cork, right?”

He nodded, following the logic.

“So it’s useful to have a visual for some witches. Me, for instance. Even when you remove your shields, your tendency will be to hold it back. Those control lessons are the first most of us learn. I sometimes think of a handful of sand. Just unclench and the magick will spill. I’ll catch it.”

Looking deep into her eyes, he knew he could trust her. Not the whys just yet, but he rarely ignored his gut. So he took her advice and threw the locks on his power. It opened up and she flowed in. Like, literally. He felt her energy float into his and suddenly, the circle expanded, tightening to the point of near bursting as magickal feedback screamed. He held on, not knowing what would happen if he let go. So he kept feeding her power to try to even things out.

Her eyes, which had been blurred as she worked, snapped into focus and she looked at him, surprise ghosting over her features before she tipped her head back and laughed. The sound of it filled the circle, stroked his skin, tingling. Their magick suddenly eased and mingled in a way so intimate it felt as if it whispered sweet nothings in his ear.

He’d never felt so exposed in his life. Laid bare and undone and yet it felt so good that it was her who’d drawn away all his defenses and left him this way.

“It’s the energy of all the witches who give to the font. The flavor of Clan Owen.” Her murmured words reassured and soothed him past that panicked spot as he let himself truly examine this new connection he had to this font of theirs.

MERIEL looked at him again as he keyed into the font and all that magick and community settled into his system. The wonder and confusion on his face told her that he had no idea it would feel so lovely to be connected to a font. And most likely that he had no idea why their individual magicks had interacted that way.

But she’d grown up around witches and in a clan. She knew what it felt like to share magick, both sexually and metaphysically. Nothing she’d done could compare to what she’d just shared with Dominic.

Not only had every last bit of her magick sprung to her intent nearly instantly, but her ability to work the spells had sharpened. She saw the spell glimmering around them. Vibrant, with all the threads she’d used humming with realized magick.

All in reaction to and in conjunction with his power. It was the combination of their magicks that had ripened into something far more powerful and intense. Dominic Bright was her bond-mate. He clearly had no idea, but it made her happy nonetheless. Simply being with him in a circle made her nearly drunk with the way their power intermingled and caressed.

“This feels amazing,” Dominic murmured. “Does it always feel this way when you work magick with a full-council witch?”

She shook her head. “Working magick with another witch usually feels good, yes. But … Have you never done that before? Felt this level of interconnectedness and power levels with another witch?”

He took a deep breath, leaning in closer and she had to lock her knees to keep from swooning.

“Yes, yes, of course, I’ve worked magick with other witches. My foster father taught me growing up. I’ve learned from teachers. Other witches I met here and there. Though I’ve not let anyone in as far as you. It never felt this good in the past. Christ, Meriel, when it feels like this I can sort of understand why witches get stuck.”

Stuck was slang for a witch who’d become addicted to magic. Magick came to a witch naturally. Each is born with a set of gifts. Some have very little power. A very small group had a great deal of power. Most had aptitude for certain kinds of magick and excelled on some level but overall were just everyday witches with moderate power levels.

Some people got off on that rush of pleasure when magick rushes through your body. And she got that; it felt good after all. But some witches couldn’t get enough and started stealing energy through rites and spells. This unnatural and stolen energy was magic, like what a magician uses. Less powerful and didn’t replenish. Most involved theft of energy from other beings. Most involved pain or blood. Sometimes worse. The more they resorted to magic over their own inherent magickal gifts, the quicker it stripped a witch of their power because it attacked their connection to the earth all around them. Without that connection, the natural connection between witch and ground is broken.

What she had with Dominic wasn’t anything at all like being stuck. Though he had no idea what it was he was feeling, it galled her nonetheless that he seemed unaware that it was special. Which was unfair because he’d clearly felt something major happen and she was all over the map with her emotions.

She mentally slapped herself. “Stealing magick and destroying everything we stand for wouldn’t feel like this. This is something specific and right.” She hesitated for a moment, wondering how exactly to tell him just exactly why.

“There’s something you aren’t saying. Tell me.”

So much for that. Best to be blunt and hope he knew what she was talking about. “We’re bond-mates, Dominic. That’s why it feels this way. Our magick was made to work together. Meant to, as it happens.”

He stood up straighter. “Bond-mates? Sorry, but from what I understand that’s only for council witches. I’m not full-council, Meriel.”

Of course it wasn’t going to be easy. She’d just coached Nell through a mating with a man who despite wanting it couldn’t admit it for some time. “Yes, you are. Or you certainly wouldn’t be my bond-mate. Or anyone else’s. Someone in your line was full-council at some point.”

She touched his temple, the warmth of his skin against her fingertips. A lock of his hair brushed against the back of her hand. She only barely resisted her urge to laugh at the look on his face. Confusion, wonder, anger, denial. He was such an open book. As a full-council witch, she’d grown up knowing at some point she’d ascend to her true power level once she united her magick with her bond-mate. Part of her had figured her bond-mate probably wouldn’t even be a romantic or sexual mating, but one of power only, like the one her mother had.

But the man just a foot away was far more than just a compatriot in magick. This man was meant to be hers in a way she could see on his face he did not begin to understand. Hell, she’d grown up expecting this and she wasn’t sure she completely understood it all.

Nor did it look like he wanted to deal with it just yet. He leaned into her touch nonetheless, feeling the same irresistible lure she did. It would always be that way between them. Now that she’d tasted his magick, she’d crave more.

And to be honest with herself, she was sure that regardless of the bond, she’d be drawn to the man she stood so deliciously close to.