Chapter 1: Prologue
Author note: Thank you for your interest in my story! The Cost of His Power is a standalone, second-chance romantic fantasy.
I’m so grateful to all of you for taking the time to read my books. I can’t tell you how happy it makes me to know that so many of you have enjoyed my stories. Thanks for reading!
Laina
“Callan, can you please slow down?” I called after my quick companion, a little out of breath from running through the woods after him in sandals and a thick dress.
When he told me to run, I followed him blindly, trusting him to never lead me astray, but now, fifteen minutes into the trip, I was starting to regret following him so far into the dim forest.
He turned and grinned at me as he slowed his pace, his crooked smile reinvigorating me, sending butterflies fluttering through my chest and forcing a surge of white-hot power into my fingertips.
“If you keep looking at me like that, I’ll set this whole goddamned forest on fire,” I chastised him, though my voice was light.
“You always say that,” Callan rolled his golden eyes, and his unruly, black hair fell into his face, forcing him to brush it back with his fingertips before continuing, “But in ten years of knowing you, you’ve never once lost control like that. You're too good a Magic Weaver for that.”
I didn’t bother explaining why things were different now.
He knew I was a Romantic—a Magic Weaver who depended on love and lust to power my magic—he just didn’t know that he had become the sole source of that magic.
I hadn't chosen to become dependent on him. It just happened.
After years of loving him, and him loving me, I didn't need anyone but Callan to source my magic.
And eventually, I couldn't use anyone else to source my magic. I'd become bonded to him without even noticing it.
Callan knew that I loved him, but he didn’t know I loved him so deeply that he’d embedded himself in my soul—never to leave his place there for as long as I lived and perhaps beyond.
It was the Romantic's Curse.
I could never use another person as a source of my magic again.
Which meant Callan had the power to destroy me.
And how did you tell someone that your entire being depended on them? His magic was so different than mine that I wasn’t sure he’d understand.
“Where are we going, anyway?” I asked as I ducked under a large branch and nearly tripped over some thick vines that had become tangled around my feet, "We've been running for ages."
Minutes. We'd been running for minutes, but it felt better to exaggerate.
“We’re almost there,” he called back without looking at me, pointing his finger to the nearest rise, “Just over that hill.”
Feeling a rush of energy at the prospect of finishing our trek, I picked up the pace, rushing up to him to grab his hand and pull him along as I teased, “Then let’s go, Callan. You’re slowing me down.”
He laughed, wrapping his hand firmly around my own, matching my strides as I rushed up the hill, heart racing and lungs burning.
As always, his touch sent a shiver of power down my spine—power that longed to be released.
Callan felt the warmth of that power in my palm and warned, “Don’t burn me, Blaze.”
He didn't sound at all concerned, so I smiled at the term—one he had called me affectionately for almost as long as I’d known him.
Before I could reassure him that I could never hurt him, we stepped over the rise, bursting out of the forest and stepping into a clearing with a small pool of perfectly clear water that sparkled in the waning sunlight.
On the far side of the pond, two ducks swam together, barely acknowledging our presence as they slowly circled each other, creating the smallest of ripples in the shining water.
I took in the scene before me, smiling at the sight of the ducks—a bonded pair just like us.
“I found this place a few days ago,” Callan leaned down to murmur into my ear from behind me as I admired the pool, his breath on my skin giving me goosebumps of pleasure that rippled along my neck and down to my toes.
“It’s beautiful,” I whispered back, turning to look up into his handsome face, “How’d you find it?”
“I was practicing my magic, and I sensed the water,” he explained with a shrug as if it was an easy task, “It’s small—not a great source of power—but I decided to seek it out anyway.”
He eyed the two ducks and murmured, “And I’m glad I did before taking any power from it. I’m not sure the ducks would have survived if I took all the energy from this place. I don't know enough about how sourcing power from water works.”
I frowned at the reminder of just how volatile Callan’s power could be if he wasn’t careful. While I was limited to using people as a source of my power, as a Seeker, Callan could take energy from just about anything in nature to power his magic.
And while I could weave my power only into fire, Callan could weave his power into any form of physical magic, like fire, wind, and even weather.
That was the exception to the rule. I'd never met anyone else like Callan. He was the only person I knew who wasn't limited to one type of magic.
Though Seekers were powerful, many lost control, and many more died trying to take in more power than they could contain. It was a rare and poorly understood ability, which is why it was so dangerous.
But I would do anything to help him learn to control it.
I took his hand and squeezed it reassuringly, “I love you, Callan.”
He smiled down at me, his golden eyes shining with mischief as he tapped me on the nose with his free hand and teased, “That’s what all you Romantics say.”
My heart sank, and my temper flared.
“If there’s another Romantic professing their love for you, you'd better tell me now,” I warned, rage simmering under my skin at the thought of anyone else using Callan as a source for their power. “I’ll rip her to pieces—no, I'll burn her until there's nothing left but bones.”
As if on cue, the air around me started to warm as my power seeped out of me.
Callan cocked his head at me and teased, “That temper is going to get you in trouble someday, Blaze. You can't just burn people up like that.”
His teasing did nothing to settle my growing rage, “Damn it, Callan, tell me there’s no one else before I actually do burn down this forest.”
“If anything, I should be worried about you, Laina,” Callan grinned, “You’re the Romantic. I’ve heard what they say ab—”
“We’re not all like that,” I snarled, and not for the first time, “I don’t know how else to explain it so that you get it through that thick skull of yours. I don’t want anyone else. In fact, I'll never want anyone else. It's just you and me forever, Callan.”
It was hard to overcome the Romantic stereotypes. Most of us relied on whatever source of power we could get our hands on, which meant we took many lovers to feed on their lust or sought out weddings and even funerals to feed on love.
A hug was usually enough to draw power from people that way, but Callan didn't want or need to know that.
Besides, I was bonded to Callan, now.
I only wanted him, but it was hard to convince him of this when the whole world saw me the way they saw the other Romantics.
And even the other Romantics didn't fully understand my bond with him, viewing it as nothing more than an old fairytale—or a nightmare.
“Just most of you.” He raised an eyebrow, daring me to disagree.
I couldn't disagree.
I also couldn't fault the other Romantics for seeking power in whatever way they could. If it weren't for Callan, I'd probably be just like the rest of them.
“Callan, I’m not a whore,” I snarled, shoving a firm finger in his chest before running it down his chest to and adding with a dark smile, “Not for anyone but you, that is.”
Callan’s eyes lit up at the comment, and he reached up to gently take my face in his hands, leaning down to press a kiss to my lips. The kiss was quick—too quick—but he pulled away to whisper, “There’s no one but you, Laina. From the moment I laid eyes on you when we were just children in a classroom, I knew I loved you.”
I’d heard it a hundred times, but each time felt like the first. His declaration of love made me feel whole.
Powerful.
“Promise?” I asked, part of me still afraid that he was just telling me what I wanted to hear, despite how easily our friendship had morphed into something more over the last two years.
Despite spending every day together.
And despite all the grand plans we’d made together over the years—plans that meant we would always be together.
“I promise,” he reassured me, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of my nose, “I love you, Laina—only you.”
“And don’t forget it, Callan,” I warned, looking deep into his eyes so he knew I was serious, “When you become a famous Magic Weaver someday, and women start throwing themselves at you, don’t forget me and don't stop loving me.”
That would be the end of me.
Callan burst out laughing. “Blaze, if anyone is going to become famous, it’s you. Have you seen your fire? Fuck, you could burn down the entire city. You're powerful, and everyone knows it.”
He wasn’t wrong. He just didn’t know that was all his doing. My power grew as our bond settled into place in my soul.
I’d tried to explain it to him before, but he doubted my words—believed I was exaggerating, even.
Now, I was tempted to try to explain my power and our bond to him again, but instead, I just smiled and gestured to the pond, “So why’d you bring me here?”
Callan shifted his attention to the water. His voice was hesitant as he explained, “I’m going to the ocean tomorrow—to test my power and learn the limits of my weaving. I’ll be gone for a couple of days, so I wanted to make sure we had some time alone together before I go.”
“Test—is that safe?” I felt my heart race as my imagination ran wild.
If he took in too much energy, it would kill him, and the ocean had endless energy. What if he didn’t know when to stop?
“There’s a Seeker there—one who will help to guide me,” Callan took my hand and kissed my knuckles affectionately, “You don’t need to worry, Blaze. I’ll be fine—safe—and I'll be back in a matter of days.”
But I would worry. Until he returned, I’d almost certainly lose sleep.
“I’ll always worry about you,” I murmured, reaching my hands around his neck to pull him in for a close hug, "And I'll worry until you return safely to me."
Callan pulled my hips close to his, and I sensed his need, collecting it to feed my magic as he whispered, “Fuck, you’re beautiful, Blaze. I’ll miss you when I’m gone.”
My heart and power swelled.
“Then hurry back, Callan, and don’t forget about me,” I whispered back as he pressed his lips to the side of my neck, making me groan before I admitted, “Because I’ll be waiting for you.”
And if he didn't return, I'd lose everything.
That was the Romantic's Curse.
