“I heard about your dad,” he says, voice lower now, gentle. “I’m sorry, Cel. I tried to call. They only gave me one, and you weren’t home, so I left a message with your mom.” His jaw clenches, like he still remembers the helplessness. “But this? You here? AtWhittaker?” He shakes his head slowly, as if saying it aloud doesn’t make it any more believable. “I just… I can’t wrap my head around it.”
He reaches down to cup my face, just the softest brush of his fingers against my cheek, yet it sends sparks firing down every nerve in my body. He leans down to kiss me, gently this time, like a feather sweeping across my lips, making a shiver curldown my spine even as the heat from the hot spring makes steam coil around us.
Another kiss—this one slow and heated, filled with the promise of starting something he has every intention of finishing. His tongue twists around mine, tasting me as his hands pull me into him and wrap around my waist. His skin is warm and slightly damp, and he backs me slowly toward a stone bench carved into the wall, a pile of fresh white towels lying beside it.
“You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about you these past weeks,” he murmurs, and the way he says it makes something bloom low in my stomach. “What I wanted to say when I saw you again… What I wanted to do…”
I can feel just the kinds of things he’s wanting, pressed against me—hard, barely contained.
I hesitate for just a second, suddenly unsure of protocol, or of what I’m doing. “I… I don’t know how much time I have before I have to get back to my squad,” I say lamely.
He looks at me like I’ve grown a second head. “Celeste. You show up—atmyschool—after a month of silence, and suddenly you’re a Magick?” His voice still lifts with disbelief, but a smile ghosts across his mouth. “And while I’m thrilled about the latter, and even more thrilled about the former…” He takes a step closer, fire sparking behind his eyes. “Excuse me, but fuck your squad. And the school, too, for all I care.”
He closes the space between us again.
“Iknowwe have a lot to talk about. I know. But right now?” His words brush against my skin; a plea wrapped in heat. “I want you. All of you. And I have no intention of letting anyone else have you. So if you want this—if you wantme—say the words, Celeste.” He pauses. The flames behind his eyes flicker into something quieter. Something deeper. “Please… just tell me you want this too.”
The question in his eyes tells me he’s talking about more than just this moment. He’s talking about him. Me.
Us—unwritten and uncertain.
And fuck, if that’s notexactlywhat I want. What I’ve wanted since the first time he looked at me like I mattered. Since the moment I chose to come here.
But wanting and deserving are different things.
What if the magick changes me into something he doesn’t recognize?
My heart clenches, lungs tightening like they’re wrapped in wire. I can’t stop thinking about the tiny boat on the lake, the water pulling at me like it knew something I didn’t. My father’s warnings echoing in my head.
Noa’s still waiting.
The silence stretches long enough for the steam to curl between us like a veil—blurring the lines of what I am and what I might become. I see the question in his eyes falter, just slightly. Hope and doubt flicker like candlelight between us.
“What if I’m not who you think I am?” I finally whisper.
He exhales hard. A pause. A promise. “Then let me find out,” he says gently. “Let meseeyou.”
My breath shakes.
My pulse stumbles.
And still—though the word feels far too small for everything it means—I say it anyway.
“Yes.”
Suddenly, the space between us feels unbearable. He reaches for me, his lips crashing into mine—desperate, hungry, and I can’t get my clothes off fast enough. I tear off my shirt while he unhooks my bra, both falling in a careless heap on the stone floor.
He pushes my leggings down in one swift movement, then pauses once they’re around my ankles. Kneeling, he looks up at me from the ground, and something in his gaze stills my breath. He pulls them off, one leg at a time, then leans in and kisses my calf—soft and reverent. Then the inside of my knee. The curveof my thigh. Each press of his mouth is slow, deliberate, burning a trail up my skin until he reaches the heat of me, hidden behind now-damp fabric. He kisses me there, eyes still locked on mine, and my heart skips.
His fingers slide beneath the waistband of my underwear, peeling them down with a quiet patience that only intensifies the need. When they fall away, I’m trembling before him, naked—exposed.
I don’t realize my eyes are closed until I feel the heat of him behind me. He steps close, his hands gentle as he brushes my hair over one shoulder. His lips follow, warm and lingering, and I shiver as his body presses against mine. The solid weight of him, the unmistakable hardness—every steel inch of him wrapped around me.
He turns me in one fluid motion and lifts me effortlessly, lowering me onto the warm stone bench. The heat radiates through my spine, grounding me even as I feel like I might float away. Above us, dried eucalyptus hangs from the cave ceiling, perfuming the air with its calming, woodsy scent. But there’s nothing calm about what’s happening between us.
He lowers himself over me, pressing me into the bench, and it’s the most delicious pressure I’ve ever felt, trapped between his body and warm stone and melting into both. His mouth finds mine again—hungry, thorough—as his hands begin their slow, reverent path down my body, his warm breath following as they move toward my breasts. I gasp when his lips brush against the sensitive skin, first gently tasting and then a quick, sharp scrape of teeth around my nipple, causing me to jump both in surprise and sensation.
As his mouth lingers, his hand inches downward as I arch toward him.
