The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume I: Volume I

it be to gather some branches for a lean-to?
    Jaylor closed his eyes and folded some magic into a rude shelter around three sides and over his bed. Nothing happened.
    The spell needed more power. He lifted the cat long enough to slide under her and relax. Once more he formed the magic with an image of branches woven together around him. When he opened his eyes again, disappointment flooded him.
    A soft chuckle brought his attention to the hut. Brevelan stood in the doorway. Her knowing smile mocked him. “I said you’d need to work for your keep. Letting your magic do it all isn’t work.”

Chapter 8
     
    “W hat did you do to me?” Jaylor’s voice quavered. “I did nothing.” Brevelan backed away from him. His huge body stalked her across the clearing.
    “If you did nothing, then where is my magic?” His hand reached toward her to stay her backward movement.
    “It is still there.” She eluded his grasp. The haven of her hut beckoned.
    “No, it isn’t. I tried a simple thing—twice. Nothing happened.” There was panic in his eyes. “No wonder there are no women at the University. All I did was dream of you. I never saw or touched your body outside my imagination. And still you have robbed me of my powers.” His hands shook. He placed them in his pockets to still the jittering.
    “This clearing is mine.” The ground beneath her feet tingled in response to her words.
    “Yours? How? No woman owns anything.”
    “No. They are owned. But this place is mine. I control it. Everything in it obeys me.” Except for the time when Jaylor had broken the magic barriers and found her.
    Had she really invited him by singing a song to which he could harmonize?
    “Not me. I obey only the guide within me that forms my magic. I don’t even obey my master all the time. So how can I . . . Why am I . . . ?” His voice rose. He swallowed deeply. “Don’t you understand I am nothing without my magic?”
    “I understand that you are a man who would bend me to your will, rob me of myself.”
    “You robbed me of my magic. I see that as a fair trade.” His hands darted from the protective pockets to capture her face. “If I can no longer work magic, there is nothing to keep me away from you.”
    Caught by the strength of his hands she could only stare into his eyes. There was anger there, bewilderment, even a little fear. He was as frightened as she!
    A measure of control returned to Brevelan. He was as frightened as she!
    “I’ve kissed girls before. At the king’s court. I’ve kissed them senseless.” His lips caught hers in a light teasing caress.
    The sensation was pleasant, undemanding. A niggle of an emotion she couldn’t describe fluttered in her stomach.
    “Women sought me out. Experienced women, who liked the idea of a tall young man with the strength of a sledge steed for their lover.” This time his lips held hers a little longer, enticing her with their gentleness.
    The cold lump of pain deep inside her melted a little to be replaced with warmth.
    Any semblance of control she had in his presence vanished.
    “Please. . . .”
    “Please what? Please do, or please don’t?” His thumbs caressed her cheekbones.
    His touch was light, tender, almost as if he cared for her. But he couldn’t care for her if he had kissed so many other women.
    “I always stopped at kisses before.” He molded his lips to hers, seeking a response.
    She felt her mouth soften. A quiver began at the base of her spine, a sensation so new, so lovely she didn’t know if she liked it or feared it. “Why should I stop with just a kiss now?” He nuzzled her neck.
    “Because your magic is intact.” Even the weight of her pet wolf leaning against her in adoration could not match the fullness she felt at Jaylor’s touch. She’d never known such tenderness, such wonderfulness.
    “Why should I believe you? The spell didn’t work.”
    “I did nothing to your magic.”
    “Then why didn’t the spell work?” He withdrew enough to look at her while his hands continued to hold her face gently. She could escape if she wanted to.
    If she wanted to.
    “The clearing is mine. I don’t know why. But when I first came here last summer, it called to me, sheltered me, obeyed me and no one else until you came. You are the only one who has found me against my will.” She tried to explain the special attachment she had for this small home.
    “Even the deadwood I would use to build a shelter obeys you? And what about the paths