He pulls me to him, and I let myself just look at him. The eyes and fire that steady my soul, no matter the storm that brews outside these walls. The way he looks at me—unyielding, certain. I reach up and pull his mouth to mine.
Because the future he sees so vivid and clear… I want to see it too.
* * *
The next morning,Noa is off on an adventure with Ryan and Finn—likely headed toward Elesmere’s cliffside tavern or the heated ice gardens just past the town border. I meet Gavrail outside Ink & Ether, the sign swinging gently in the wind likeit’s waiting for us. There’s an awkward second when our eyes meet—something unsaid hovering between us. I look away first.
He doesn’t mention Stella. And I don’t ask.
Inside, the scent of old parchment, sandalwood, and winter cedar fills the cozy shop. Madame Romari nods at us from behind the counter without a word, her gaze sharp and otherworldly, as if she already knows why we’ve come.
After Gavrail asks for help, she leads us to the hushed rows of mythology, gold bangles clinking at her wrist. Every book in this section is an artifact from the past, every title a whisper of secrets, culture, and storytelling. Gavrail and I wander down the aisle, still searching for the truth that began to unravel itself in the waters and shadows of the Grotto.
“I’ve heard of the book you seek,” Madame Romari says, her foreign accent thick, the syllables slow and rich like honey stirred with herbs. Her fingers slide through the stacks of books, moving with practiced ease, as if she knows every spine and page by heart. “Alas, I do not carry a copy. Many of the myths it speaks of are European in nature.” Her mouth curves, not quite a smile. “If you want a trail, you’ll have to follow the old ones. Berlin maybe. There is a library there.” She lifts a shoulder, bangles chiming. “Or perhaps what you seek will find you instead.” Her eyes meet mine for a heartbeat, dark and knowing.
My shoulders slump. The book isn’t here.
I glance at Gavrail, expecting a shared moment of defeat. But instead, he brushes my hand lightly with his—barely a graze. Intentional. Something like static flickers in the air between us. Then he steps back, shuttering whatever just came loose from that impossible control he wields like a weapon. He heads outside without a word, the bell above the door chiming softly behind him.
Madame Romari watches him go, her eyes never leaving him. “I told you he’d find his way back to you,” she says, hervoice quieter now, as though the words hold weight beyond what they seem.
“Excuse me?” I ask, confused, though my gut tightens at the subtle implication, following her gaze to where it’s still focused.
I pause, a sudden chill running over me as I realizewhoshe meant. My breath catches, and the hairs on my arms rise, prickling with the intensity of something unspoken. A shiver creeps down my spine as I nod to her in farewell before stepping out into the bite of the winter air.
CHAPTER 35
Heat will always seek a vessel. And flame will always seek something to burn.
—Elemental Mastery IV: The Covenant of Fire
Back on campus on Monday, the winter storm is well underway. Thick sheets of snow slant sideways under slicing wind, turning the stone paths and towers into a blur of white and shadow.
After the way I behaved in Elesmere, I’m desperate to make up for it, even though Noa never mentioned it again. I convince him to wait out the worst of the storm with me inside the Cavern, then drag him to his private quarters to thaw out our frozen skin.
Once inside the fire-carved door, we hang our coats on the hooks jutting out from the stone walls, the fabric stiff where snow has melted and refrozen along the seams. Our hats, scarves, and thick winter gloves are laid out to dry while we indulge.
Noa changes quickly and heads for the steam room, towel wrapped loosely around his hips. I slip off my clothes by the stone bench in the corner and hold up my swimsuit, studying it for a long beat. A slow smirk curves my lips—and I set the suit back on the bench and step barefoot toward the pool at the back of the chamber. The warm water envelops me as I slip in, completely naked.
The private hot-spring pool is neatly carved into the rock, about six feet across, its stone walls gently curving up where you can lean back. There’s a small stone staircase at the front, leading down into the water. Built-in benches line the sides, the dark stones polished smooth by centuries of use. Steam rises where the hot spring meets the cool cave air, drifting up past simple iron rings holding lanterns in carved wall niches.
I settle myself on one of the benches while I wait for Noa. The warm water eases over my skin, sinking into every frozen inch of me. My muscles loosen one by one, tension unwinding until I’m boneless, floating—soft and slack, like wax warmed in the sun.
I hear the door open as Noa exits the sauna. Sweat clings to his body, dripping down his chest and pooling at the sharp grooves of his lower abdomen, just above the towel—those vee-cut lines that draw the eye to what I am already wickedly picturing below.
I arch back, resting my head on the stone edge of the pool, my breasts rising above the water as Noa’s gaze drops—then lingers—at the peaks of exposed flesh, my nipples hardened as they react to the cold cave air.
His eyes darken with lust and delight at the sight of me there watching him. Waiting for him.
Slowly, he lets the towel fall from his hips, and I can see just how much he already wants me.
He walks over to the pool and steps down the stone steps,standing over me. He sinks down into the water, drifting so that his body hovers over mine.
“Hi,” he says, his smile tipping to the side as he finds my neck with his lips.
I arch back, enjoying the shiver of pleasure it gives me as he nibbles and sucks at the skin below my ear. His hands move languidly in the warm water, touching, kneading, massaging. Feeling the slickness between my thighs through the heat.
I reach for him, my fingers wrapping around the thick length of him, stroking slowly, from base to tip. Each movement draws a breathless gasp from his throat, the kind that makes my pulse stutter. His breathing grows harsh, every inhale tight with restraint. I guide him to sit, straddling him as the steam curls around us like smoke.
