Elize's thoughts raced everywhere. Between the kiss and the lust and the new energy she was feeling, it was her inner voice that shook her. Magic? Caleb was a sorcerer. Did that mean that his magic transferred to her? Was it one of the repercussions of drinking his blood, because that was the only plausible thing that came to her mind?
She had no idea how the red tendril escaped from her mouth but confusion and panic blossomed in her chest. She let out an audible gasp. Did magic speak? And it scared the hell out of her. What if the magic went out of control? Somewhere in the middle of swirling emotions, Elize closed her eyes and went off to sleep in the warmth of the chest of the man who held her close to him. She didn't protest, she didn't want to protest. Starved of any form of love or care, she just gave in—for the moment. Her dreams consisted of shadows coming in and out of red tendrils of smoke swirling slowly.
