“You must breathe slow and deep. Do it now!”

She wanted to slap him for trying to order her not to have a panic attack, but she couldn’t manage to do that either. So there she was. Her escape plan had failed and she now sat in the arms of the man who had threatened to kill her mother and wanted her to murder someone she didn’t even know. Not that knowing the person might make this any easier, but still it was the principle of the matter.

He cursed harshly. Or she guessed that’s what he did because whatever he just said was in Demonish not a language she understood. Pulling her around like a ragdoll, he settled her back against his chest then flattened a hand across her collarbone. Sucking in ragged breaths, she tried to pull away but his hand held her tight.

Then he spoke. “Iridona tradeen k’loshka.” He repeated the strange words and with each passing, her breathing came easier. Her lungs relaxed, air filled her, and her mind calmed.

Exhausted, she relaxed into his arms. Her body felt so weak she didn’t even care that she was using his body as a prop to lean up against. Okay, she cared a bit. After a minute of full normal breathing, she started to lean up. Just what did she say to him? Thanks for saving my life? She didn’t know what social protocol dictated in this kind of situation.

His hand stopped her from getting up. The demon was entirely too strong for his own good.

“What are you doing?” she whispered, her voice ragged from what she hoped was her panic attack.

He didn’t answer. He just held her in this strange position with his arm around her. He was close enough he could choke the life out of her, but he didn’t make any threatening moves, just kept her back to his chest and his hand flat to her collarbone. His thumb swiped once across the bare skin of her neck and something warm pulsed inside her.

“Let me go.” She swallowed over the lump in her throat.

His hand fell away from her, then his body was gone. She teetered backwards before she caught the motion.

“How am I supposed to help you?” she asked.

He gazed out at the land. “Kill my mother, the queen.”

“How am I supposed to do that?”

“The seer says you have great magical power inside of you. You are the key to killing her.”

Abby’s brow flew up at that. “I haven’t used magic since...well since in the cave, but before that...I mean it’s been years. A really long time. And what seer?” A seer knew about her. Had she met the seer before and just didn’t remember it?

“The Great Seer, one of the last living seers in the nether-realm. He has great wisdom. He told me to find you. He says only you can kill my mother, for the curse upon me won’t let me.”

Finally, he looked back at her. She hadn’t realized she wanted him to until he did. His dark eyes were interesting to look at, especially when they weren’t looking at her like he wanted to rip her head off. “I will help you to train your skills. You will be prepared for the fight.”

A thought hit her like a gunshot. He wanted to train her to use her magic? She didn’t know about this seer or about her being all-powerful or any such nonsense, but she did have some powers. If he helped to train her and make her strong then maybe she’d be strong enough to bind him for much longer or to even knock him out, then she could port home. She’d heard of witches porting, it could be done from such a great distance. It would just take a lot of strength.

“All right, I’ll do it.”

His eyes flared. She’d surprised him.

“Good choice,” he said.

Yeah, except that she was lying.

“Try harder!”

Abbigail wiped the sweat from her brow and glowered. “If I tried any harder I might collapse. I am trying.”

Alrik shook his head in frustration and paced in a tight circle. “Obviously not, witch. This isn’t good enough. Close your mind off to everything but your power and feel it inside you. Then push it with your mind out towards me.”

Abby made a gargled noise of frustration. “I’ve been trying to do that this whole time.”

He stalked to her, anger slashing his handsome features into a mask. “Obviously not. Obviously not well enough since you haven’t budged me an inch. Try again.”

“I’m tired and hungry. I need a break.”

His eyes looked up to the sky and he laughed. The sound wasn’t pleasant. “We are not stopping now. I told you, you can eat after you move me with the spell I taught you. Now, try it again.”

Abby wanted to strangle him. They’d been going at this for hours. Magic always took a physical toll on her and right now her body screamed at her to lie down and sleep for a few days. She didn’t know why the spell wasn’t working. Maybe because she’d never tried a spell that would push a person back or maybe because of the spell she used yesterday to bind him had just sapped her abilities for a short time. Hell, she didn’t know but she wished she did. All she knew was that her stomach wouldn’t stop growling, her eyelids kept drifting shut, and her limbs felt heavy as if she’d been holding weights all morning.

Alrik, or, she corrected, King Alrik as he wanted to be called, grabbed a small branch and stood it up against a tree. Crossing back to her, he stepped up behind her and her teeth ground at his proximity. He unsettled her, and boy did she want that feeling to go fast. Apparently, though her mind didn’t trust him one inkling, her body was more than happy to feel him press up against her back. The demon was big in many ways—tall, heavily muscled. He had that whole tall, dark, and handsome thing going for him in a big way. What that little phrase should include is tall, dark, handsome, and insane. The demon was not right in the head. However, she did wonder if it was the curse on him that made him so angry all the time.

Alrik bent low so his voice fell in her ear. His hands grabbed hers and thrust them forward. “Focus on the branch, witch. See the branch falling over, flying back, anything. Just make it move.”

His impatience only fueled her anger. Abby envisioned herself snapping her head backwards and busting his straight nose open, but she couldn’t do that. If she ever wanted to get out of this wretched place and back to her life, she’d need to grow strong. And for that, she needed his help.

She took all that anger, hunger, and exhaustion inside her and focused it on the thin, gnarled tree branch. She pictured her magic thrusting it, sending it flying away from the tree. Her breathing deepened as she narrowed her eyes on it. Nothing happened. She strained, sweat beading her brow and falling down her face in rivulets. The muscles in her arms strained, she squeezed his big hands in hers and willed the stupid branch to move. It didn’t budge. Not even a slight shudder.

“Gah! I can’t do it.” She pulled her hands out of his and stalked away.

“You can’t keep giving up.” He sounded disappointed. A small part of her actually felt guilty about this as if she didn’t want to disappoint him.

She threw her hands up and spun around to face him. He wasn’t the one hungry. He wasn’t the one tired. He wasn’t even breaking a sweat. “I’d say working for hours on this and not seeing a result should win me a break at the very least, dammit.”

His eyes closed and a shuddering breath escaped him. “I’d watch your tone, witch.”

She snorted. “And what’s wrong with my tone?” If she didn’t do one thing wrong, she did another in his mind.

His eyes opened, pierced her. “Your anger fuels me. It’s the nature of the curse.”

Oh, well she didn’t know what to say to that. Her anger fed his anger? Why? To what purpose? To make him a bigger jackass? She wanted to ask, but his eyes flittered away from her and she swore she saw a flash of—uncertainty, vulnerability, or maybe even shame.

That strange look in his eyes made her gentle her voice. “Listen, just let me eat and rest then I’ll try for as long as you want.”