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Moonveil and Magic

Page 23

by A.M. Gold

The street buzzed with their violence, every impact vibrating up through the soles of my feet and settling deep in my marrow. Their claws flashed and muscles coiled with impossible force. I clutched the iron rail of my balcony, my nails biting into the metal, my heart hammering so fast I thought it might split my ribs.

They lunged again, magical sparks igniting with every strike. Kael’s massive frame hurled Lucien across the pavement, but Lucien twisted midair, landing on all fours with a growl that vibrated through my bones.

"Holy goddess of hotness, they’re—" My face burned as the thought slipped through, but I couldn't look away. I couldn't stop watching. It wasn't just the corded muscle or the flash of fangs; it was the scent of ionised air and the raw, unrefined power bleeding off them in waves. Most men used magic like a tool, but they were using it like a heartbeat—every strike a pulse of pure, lethal energy that called to the dormant storm in my own blood. It was terror, yes—but it was also a heat coiling low and predatory in my belly, answering the call of the wild.

Lucien’s claws raked across Kael’s side, sparks of magic scattering like embers that hissed against the damp stone. Kael howled, answering with a brutal shove that cracked the pavement as if the earth itself were yielding to him. The shockwave rattled the windows, the glass groaning in their frames.

I yelped, stumbling back as the vibration punched through my chest. Beside me, a low, guttural sound cut through the chaos. Violet was there, fur bristling and back arched, her eyes reflecting the gold and silver of the fight. I hadn't even realised she'd followed me out—she was usually a shadow, but tonight, even the cat was drawn to the scent of this battle.

Kael and Lucien circled again, raw energy rolling off them in waves that distorted the very air. I pressed my hand to my chest, struggling to draw a breath that didn't taste like ozone and fur.

The scream of metal echoed through the alley as Lucien was thrown into a lamppost, the heavy iron bending like parchment under his weight. Kael followed, a blur of grey fur and raised claws, but Lucien spun with a lethal, fluid grace.

I shoved my hands forward, my palms glowing with a desperate, golden light. “Enough!” I screamed, throwing a concussive burst of energy meant to shove them apart.

But the spell didn't even reach them. It shattered against the sheer wall of their combined kinetic force, dissipating into harmless sparks. They were fighting, but they were also creating a vacuum of power that ignored everything else, including me.

Fear and stress tangled inside me, an unbearable knot. I bit my lip until I tasted copper, my pulse roaring in my ears. They weren’t just fighting over me. They were claiming the right to possess me. And I… gods help me, the part of me that was tired of being the only one in control, the part that was tired of being the sentinel with all the answers… that part wanted to be claimed.

Then, all at once, the fight stopped.

Both beasts froze, their chests heaving and eyes locked—not on each other, but on me.

My breath caught, my stomach twisting painfully. Their gazes pinned me like claws, hot and unrelenting. They see me. They want me.

The air stilled, heavy and electric. Early morning fog began to roll in, thick and silent. No smoke. No escape. Just two predators, both staring at their prize.

My knees went weak, and I gripped the cold iron of the balcony rail until my knuckles turned white. Below me, the violence had faded but was now curdling into a heavy, suffocating silence. My mind spun, a chaotic blur of silver fur and dark shadows. They both turned toward me. Slowly. In perfect, terrifying synchronicity.

Lucien and Kael looked up at me, their glowing eyes locking onto mine. It was not a look of apology or shame. It was a look of absolute, unified possession. It felt less like they had finished their war and more as if they had just signed a treaty—and I was the territory they’d agreed to share. Oh gods, they’ve both claimed me at the same time.

Violet pressed her small body hard against my right foot, a firm anchor that was the only thing keeping me from pitching forward over the rail.

Then, the silence broke. I heard a series of disturbing, wet, unnatural noises—the sound of bones snapping and shifting back into human shapes. A muffled curse, a scuffle of boots, and then the sudden, violent roar of the Harley tearing a hole through the morning quiet. Footsteps stormed away in the opposite direction, fading into the distance until only the ringing in my ears remained.

They were gone.

I finally let go of the rail and sank to the floor, my legs giving out as the adrenaline turned to lead. I sat there in the dark, trembling, with Violet curling tightly against my side. My pulse roared in my ears, my chest heaving as I tried to process the impossible.

Two men. Two monsters. They were dangerous, terrifying, and completely beyond my control. I couldn't ignore the truth: I was scared, I was thrilled... and I was aching for them.

I pressed a hand to my lips, trying to calm the rapid-fire of thoughts and sensations. What do I do now? The street was quiet, but my mind screamed with the image of Kael and Lucien, claws flashing, growls vibrating in my chest, and the knowledge that they fought over me. Me!

Violet meowed softly, nudging my hand. I exhaled shakily, leaning back against the wall, still trembling, heart pounding, and my mind spinning between awe, fear, and a delicious, wicked thrill.

Daylight and Shadows

The morning sunlight spilled through the wide front windows of Moonveil Books and Craft, warm and inviting. Everything is normal, I thought, forcing a steady, professional rhythm into my hands.

I moved through the aisles, arranging stacks of young adult romance novels for the young witchling book club I was hosting. I was intensely grateful for the busywork. I needed the distraction of colour-coded spines and scheduled discussions to keep my mind from spiralling back to the alley. If I didn’t have these girls coming, I would be a puddle on the floor.

I caught my reflection in the glass of a locked display case. My red hair looked almost unnaturally vibrant in the direct sun, a fiery contrast to the paleness of my skin. I looked well-rested, which was a lie, as my body told a different story. Every time I reached for a high shelf, a dull ache flared in my thighs and back. It was a throbbing reminder of the Harley, the brick wall, and the sheer physical toll of being caught between Kael and Lucien.

The witchling girls arrived right on time, a whirlwind of giggles and chatter. They settled in with their iced lattes and dog-eared paperbacks. I guided them through the discussion, praising their insights on the story’s star-crossed tropes. On the surface, I was the perfect mentor. Inside, I was still vibrating from the roar of a motorcycle engine and the memory of glowing, predatory eyes.

By mid-afternoon, the girls had left, their laughter still echoing faintly in the store. I was tidying up, my cheeks still flushed from a stray thought of Kael’s hands, when the familiar jingle of the door announced my true sanctuary.

“Kingy!” I said with relief, ushering my old friend in.