Enchantment (Laws of Segregation Book 3)By: Nina Croft
Laws of Segregation Part 3
She loved him.
Tallon still found it impossible to grasp. Only days ago he'd been hunting her. He was responsible for delivering her mother to the dungeons of the Keep, and they had only ended up on this world because he’d tried to kill her. Shayla had countered with a spell so strong it ripped them from their own world and set them down here on Earth.
Yet she had forgiven him. More than that, she'd chosen him.
The full moon had risen, bathing the stone circle in silver light so different from the crimson glow of their home world of Arroway. As they halted in the center, Shayla turned to him. Her brilliant green eyes softened and filled with an emotion that made him tremble. Tallon grasped her shoulders, pulled her into his arms, and kissed her. Immediately, he was overwhelmed by a sense of rightness, and he gave himself up to the sensations sweeping through him, a tidal wave of desire that washed away his doubts.
He stepped back and slowly stripped away her clothes. When she was naked, her body gilded in silver moonlight, he lowered her to the soft grass. He gazed down on the slender perfection of her body, his own already hot and hard. Then he removed his clothes and came down over her. As he held his body poised above her, she reached up and stroked his face.
"Tallon, I choose you."
He smiled. "Good, because it's too late for anything else." He leaned toward her and kissed her. "I love you," he murmured against her mouth, and the last of his worries vanished into the night.
He had no doubt there was a struggle ahead, but it was a struggle he would make with Shayla at his side. And they would not fail. Together they were far stronger than apart.
She opened to him, gasped as his body pierced hers, and for a short while, he forgot everything in the savage beauty of their lovemaking.
"Are you sure?" he asked afterward as they dressed hurriedly. "We can go back. You can spend time with Cassandra, learn how to control your magic, how to use it."
She cast him a look of disbelief. "While my mother is being held in the dungeons of the Order? Alone, maybe tortured?"
"You have to prepare yourself that she might already be dead."
"No! I won't believe that. I'd know if she was gone." She shook her head. "I have to try and save her."
He nodded once but she must have seen the guilt in his eyes. Reaching her hand out, she stroked her soft palm against his cheek. "I don't blame you. You did your duty."
He twisted his head and kissed her palm, then drew back. "I should have known better."
“Maybe. But there’s no point in dwelling on the past. All we can do is try to put right the wrongs. Come, let's do this."
He nodded, and slid his palm into hers. Side by side, they stood at the center of the stone circle. Shayla’s hand gripped his as he raised his staff and started the spell that would take them home together.
Callum sat cross-legged in the perpetual twilight of his world between worlds. When he'd arrived over a thousand years ago, there had been nothing. Now his magic had conjured up the vague outline of familiar objects. Shadowy trees reached through the mist to the sky. The dark tower where he made his home had formed out of the black rock.
His mind wandered. These days he found it hard to focus, to even remember why he was here, though he retained enough awareness to know he was no longer entirely sane, and each day drove him closer to madness.
He shouldn't be here. He had in fact died, but his love hadn't allowed him to leave. She'd dragged him back from the land of the dead and dropped him somewhere in between, to a place where he didn't so much live as exist while time flowed around him. Cassandra must be dead. She would not have left him to languish here if she’d still had life in her body. She had chosen him.
In front of him, flat on the ground, lay a mirror, his one contact with the outside. Through it, he caught glimpses of other worlds. Occasionally, people would appear briefly and then be gone. He lived for those moments. They were the one thing that kept him going in his strange half-life.
Now, he lowered his head so he could look down into the silver depths. Sometimes all the glass showed was the reflection of his face. He hated to see the encroaching madness in his eyes. But today was one of the good days. His image faded, the mirror cleared, and in the polished surface a figure shifted. A woman standing in the center of a circle of tall stones. It was nighttime, and a single moon hung in the sky. Not Arroway then.