Deep Magic Read Online Free Page B

collapsed at Marcus’s feet. Battling every sane instinct he possessed, he bent and gathered it in his arms. The beast shuddered, sending vibrations up his arms. And then it began to change …
    Until the wolf’s fur smoothed into a woman’s damp and feverish skin, Marcus hadn’t fully grasped the depth of the magic he held in his arms. Rhys called it Deep Magic. It was the raw power of the gods, a primal force that existed independently of any human notion of good and evil, Light and Darkness. It was a primitive and dangerous force. Unpredictable. So much so that Cyric, Rhys’s grandfather, had forbidden the Druids of Avalon from calling it.
    Deep Magic. The refuge of the truly desperate, and the truly depraved.
    Which was Gwendolyn?
    The transformation he’d witnessed had been a perversion of nature. Why, then, had it aroused him so? What did it imply about his character that now, more than a year later, he still woke in the dead of night with his cock stiff and his stones aching for …
her.
For her magic.
    “… do you think, Marcus?”
    With a start, he realized he’d completely missed whatever question Breena had asked. “What?”
    She gave a huff of exasperation. “See what I mean? You were gone again. Whenever you look at that wolf—”
    “I’m listening now.”
    She glanced at him and frowned, then looked away. Her earlier good humor had fled. Marcus’s attention was drawn to the circles under her eyes, more visible now that she was silent. Her freckles stood out starkly against too-pale skin. She hadn’t been sleeping. His heart sank. With Breena, that meant only one thing.
    Her hand crept to her throat, fingering the silver pendant that hung there. It was a Druid charm, one that Rhys had given her. Marcus knew Gwendolyn had made it.
    “I need to talk to you about Avalon,” she said.
    “Breena, no. We’ve talked about it enough already.”
    “But … Rhys says I must go. And I would go, if not for the babe …”
    “Mother needs you here.”
    “I know. I would not leave her, not now.”
    “Even afterward,” Marcus said. “Avalon is no place for you.”
    “But Rhys said—”
    “It’s a primitive place, Bree. Do you really want to live in a hut of mud and straw? With nothing but a meager peat fire and a dirt floor? There will be no plaster, no tiles, no soft beds. No wine, no wheat bread. You can forget hot baths.” He paused, catching her gaze fully. “And if all that isn’t enough, consider this: no
library.”
    He felt a grim satisfaction when this last pronouncement caused Breena to wince. Truly, he couldn’t imagine his sister without her nose in a scroll or codex.
    “And another thing,” he continued ruthlessly, “the settlement on Avalon is illegal.
Druidry
is illegal. What if the Second Legion were to discover the existence of a secret clan of Druids? Every man, woman, and child would be put to the sword.”
    “That will never happen. Rhys says Cyric has hidden the isle within magical mists.”
    “Yet another reason to stay away. Who knows what dangerous spells the Druids have conjured?”
    “None!” Breena stood so abruptly her stool tipped over and clattered to the stone floor before Marcus could catch it. “Rhys says the Druids of Avalon practice only the Light!”
    Marcus retrieved the stool and set it upright with a deliberate thud. “Except that a little more than a year ago, Rhys’s own cousin called up the darkest form of Deep Magic, and nearly killed Clara and Owein. And Rhys himself”—Marcus flattened his hand on top of the stool—“Rhys is no stranger to Deep Magic. You know that as well as I do.”
    “But that was only one time! Rhys said—”
    “Enough” Marcus ground out. “I am sick to death of hearing what Rhys said.”
    Breena stared at him, stricken.
    “I’m sorry,” he said gruffly, shame flooding through him. “I shouldn’t lose my temper. Not with you, at any rate.”
    A moment passed before his sister responded. When she did, her