“Mychael, I can’t let you-”

“Can’t let me what? Protect you? Save you? Keep the next Volghul from carrying you off? Dammit, Raine, I won’t stand by and-”

He took my hand and the shock of his magic raced up my arm. My breath exploded in a hiss, not of pain, but of every nerve ending suddenly and sharply aware. The air was crisp and alive and filled with scents magnified a hundredfold: the wood of the chair and table, the metallic tang of Mychael’s armor and weapons, and his unmistakably masculine scent. My magic surged forward to meet his, matching him, giving as good as I got. Our magics coiled and twisted, weaving us together, and I was keenly aware of his every pulse, every muscle, the surging of blood through his veins.

And he was just as aware of me-all of me. I was transfixed as his eyes darkened from sun-kissed tropical seas to ocean depths. As his power filled me, I saw what he’d done to the demons that had ambushed him and four of his men. When my magic rose to meet his, Mychael felt what I had done to that Volghul.

And he knew that Tam and I had done it together.

That thought broke whatever hold our powers had on us.

I pulled my hand away, dragging air forcibly into my lungs. “What the hell was that?”

Mychael’s eyes were like twin sapphires. “Magic most potent.” His deep voice was rich and vibrant; it was his spellsinger’s voice. He wasn’t doing it on purpose; it was simply remnants from the power that still roiled within him.

I was about to say “no shit” to his assessment, but the memory of what Tam and I had done froze the words on my lips.

It was my magic that had focused Tam’s power, and my magic that had just surged into Mychael. The Saghred hadn’t had a thing to do with either one.

I felt my hands start to shake and I let them. At least they knew what to do next. “What did you do?”