Visions of Magic by Regan Hastings

knew.
    Torin bit off another curse and threw a look down the hall at the group of guards rushing inside the prison.
    â€œGet me out and I’m fine,” she said, words tumbling from her mouth in a desperate rush. “But I’m marked for execution and unless you help me escape, the knowledge you need dies with me.”
    â€œDamn all of this straight to hell.” He was caught. If he wanted her information, he must free her. Besides, he was wasting time standing there arguing with her. “Stand back.”
    Reluctantly, she did.
    Torin brought forth the flames, fighting the drag of the white gold surrounding him. The fire burned for him as always, although diminished slightly. He centered the flames on his right hand. The living fire crackled and spit as he reached toward the lock on the white gold cell bars. He’d have only moments before direct contact with the gold began to affect his powers. If this took too long, he could find himself as trapped as the witch—and forced to fight his way out. Though that wouldn’t present a problem, it would take time he didn’t have. He had to risk it, though, for the information she offered. He laid his burning fingertips to the locking mechanism and instantly felt an icy draught push through the flames, flooding into him. Torin held fast, his gaze fixed on the lock, his powers centered on the task.
    Flames fought with ice. The witch urged him to hurry. The prisoners continued to shriek and scream.
    â€œStand down!” a guard shouted, running now, heavy footsteps echoing through the hall, despite all the noise.
    Torin paid him no attention, but the women in the cells were doing all they could to slow the guards. Bits of food, books, magazines flew through the bars, aimed at the armed men. The prisoners were risking everything to help one of their own escape. No doubt in the hope that one day it would be their turn.
    Rune appeared in a flash of flame alongside him just as the lock gave way.
    â€œWhat the hell?” he demanded, looking from Torin to the witch rushing out of the cell.
    â€œNot now,” Torin told him, reaching for the witch even as she threw herself into his grasp. He fought through the dampening effect of the white gold, called on the flames once more and let them engulf him and the witch as a deadly hail of bullets flew at them.

Chapter 12
    S ounds echoed softly in the cavernous prison as the women settled in for the night. Sighs and sobs and whispered prayers were a constant murmur that sounded like the rush of wind through trees. The darkness was alive. With the fluorescent lights off, the only illumination came through each prisoner’s narrow window. The glass was dirty and beyond the pane were heavy bars that Shea suspected were also coated in white gold. But at least she had one small slice of the outside world to cling to.
    Alone in her cell, she did her best to shut out the murmuring, the despair. With her bed made, she lay on the hard mattress and stared out that window, wishing she were anywhere else.
    Somewhere out there Torin was looking for her. She was convinced of that. No man who had promised a mating ritual with the seriousness he had would allow her to escape him. And now that she was praying he’d show up, the question was, would he be able to find her?
    She closed her eyes and focused her thoughts on the tall man with the fierce gray eyes. He’d called himself an Eternal. Her Eternal. Why did that sound familiar? That one word seemed to resonate with her. She brought his face into her mind and concentrated with everything she was.
    How odd, she noted absently, that only hours ago, he had been the enemy. Now, he was hope. Before, she’d worried that he was somehow connected to the strange dreams and visions that had been haunting her. She no longer cared. She’d take the dreams. Whatever he had planned for her had to be better than this.
    With his image firmly in her mind, she finally