One finger, then two, slide into the heat of me as I move against him. Then he starts coasting over the place I want him to touch me the most, feeling the slickness of my own desire ashe mounts a repetitive rhythm over and over again until a heat builds within. The tension winds tighter with every second until I cry out.
Suddenly, a rush of sound comes from behind us.
“Celeste.” Noa pulls back suddenly, brows drawn, his tone no longer soft. “Stop.”
“What?” I gasp, dazed. My eyes flutter open.
His hand cups the back of my neck—but there’s urgency now. Concern. Not for him, forme. “You’re drawing too much. The water—it’s answering your want, not your will.”
I look up. The pool behind us is rising, sloshing against the stone with unnatural pull. It’s swelling, curling up in a spiral like a wave preparing to crest. Droplets lift like silver daggers.
My breath freezes in my lungs. “I—I didn’t mean to?—”
“Breathe, Cel.” His forehead presses to mine, steady. Stern. “You need to breathe. Or you’re going to flood this whole cave.”
Panic coils. My chest heaves. I look back at the water as it rushes closer.
“Look at me,” he says, voice low and commanding. “Not the water.Me.”
And I do.
And in that moment—his hands alight with flame.
Not burning, not to destroy, just enough to hold me. His fire wraps around my wrists like golden restraints, anchoring me in place, searing through the chill taking over my spine. Grounding me.
The water hisses—and slows.
It sinks back into the pool, calm once more.
I collapse back against the stone bench, mortified, and turn my face away. “I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“Don’t be,” he says. His words cut through the storm that’s gathered in my chest.
He pulls me upright so he can wrap a towel and his arms around me, firm and unyielding. His touch is heat and strengthand something steadier than either. I match his breath, the vise-like pressure starting to fade from my veins.
When I glance back behind him, any remaining mist settles back into steam like nothing ever happened. Noa’s eyes are still wide—but not with fear. His gaze moves from the water to my face, lingering on the steam curling in the air.
“Gods,” he whispers. His arm curves around my shoulders, his other hand gently touching my cheek. “You really are one of us.”
And in that moment, something changes between us. Not just lust or longing—but belief. Truth.
“Are you okay?” He’s looking at me like I’m made of glass or lightning. Possibly both.
I shake my head—because I don’t know how to explain what I’m feeling. I barely understand what I evenam.
His hand lifts to brush my cheek again before moving down my neck, the edge of his thumb skimming the place where my pulse is still thundering. “I can help you control it,” he says quietly. “If you’ll let me.”
The words are gentle—the offer is anything but.
He watches me closely, something fierce and unwavering in his gaze. “Has that ever happened before?”
I bite my lip and shake my head. “I haven’t exactly been in a situation like this since you left this summer.”
A grin tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Well, thank the gods for that. I’d hate to have to kill anyone this early in the year.”
The tension breaks.
I laugh—soft and shaky, but real. “This was quite the welcome party,” I tease as he hands me my underwear and bra, noting—somewhat disappointingly—that he’s somehow already fully dressed.
