I lower myself onto him, letting my weight sink down inch by inch with a sharp inhale. His lips part beneath mine as I kiss him—deep, claiming, and then biting down just enough to draw a growl from his throat. I feel…everything—the stretch of him filling me, the scrape where my teeth meet his lips, the wet heat between us amplified by the water soaking our skin. His hands clutch my hips, grounding us, while mine slide into his hair, tugging him deeper into the kiss, deeper into me.
I move slowly, savoring the way his breath catches—his agony delicious and just shy of unbearable. I pick up speed, watching for the moment his breathing shifts, the edge of unraveling—then I stop. I kiss him instead. His mouth. His neck. My hands glide down his chest, mapping muscle and bone, until his breath slows again… and I start over.
I take him to the brink twice more, keeping him teetering on that ledge until his control finally snaps.
I can feel the fire before I see it, sparking from his fingertips, sending streaks of impossibly warm water rightthere, alternating the pressure like an extension of his fingers—push, pull, warm, hot—again and again as I ride him.
It’s too much.
I drag my hands through the water as it spirals around us, a shallow whirlpool stirred by our magick and movement. Noa’s flames heat the surface until steam rises, misting the air, forming a glowing cloud overhead.
Our bodies slide together, slick and seamless, his hands on my hips, lifting me in time with each thrust. The vortex spins faster. The air thickens. Then his real hands—strong and sure—find the aching center of me as I ride him. The contrast of his heat against the cool air makes me cry out as I arch against him.
Above us, the cloud pulses. The pressure in the room shifts—air destabilizing, crackling with something ancient. Our magicks—fire and water—aren’t fighting. They’refusing.
The pressure inside us builds, rising higher and higher until it can no longer hold.
And then—I break, a wave shattering against a cliff, relentless and consuming.
Light flashes within the cloud above us—brief, brilliant sparks blooming like shooting stars across a night sky.
Oh my gods.I look up.
We’ve created a storm.
Noa lifts me and slams into me one last time before throwing his head back against the stone ledge, falling over the edge, his eyes closed. We’re lost in each other. Lost in this moment. Our bodies are covered in steam and mist as the hot water of the pool laps back around us, wrapping us in its warmth.
We remain tangled, pulses thrumming in time—with each other, and with every flicker of lightning above. He sinks back against the step, exhaling hard, and turns me in his arms until I’m curled on his lap, facing the storm. I’m completely spent. The storm we createdtookas much as it gave. Maybe more.
We watch it together—silent, breathless—as the cloud begins to fade, the air still crackling with electricity. My skin tingleswith it. Every nerve sings. Even my blood feels different, thick and slow as it moves through my veins.
I look back and find his eyes already on mine—wide, dark, filled with awe. And something else. Something like fear.
He realizes as well as I do that we’ve just created something far beyond normal magick. Something older. Wilder.
This wasn’t just passion, or lust, or even love?—
This was power.
Fusion.
And it wasours.
CHAPTER 36
To pull one thread is to risk unraveling the whole.
—Tapestries of Power: A Study of Magickal Bloodlines and Lineage
Ifeel scattered after what happened in the Cavern, even two days later. It’s like pieces of me are still floating in the steam of that cave. My body is whole, but my magick is stretched thin and humming with aftershock. What we did—it changed something. It marked us. And for the first time, I realize that Noa is now just as entangled in my secrets as Gavrail.
I turn the thought over and over, torn between truth and safety, love and protection, knowledge and trust, and something deeper—something I can’t name that feels ingrained in my very bones.
Because secrets are heavy. They cost you. And once spoken, they can’t be unspoken.
But Noa deserves the truth. The real one. And the truth is—Iwanthim to know me. All of me. The shadows and the storms.The worry I carry. The fear I try to swallow. Even the parts I still don’t fully understand myself.
I don’t dare tell Gavrail what I’m considering—I already know he’ll try to stop me. The risk. The danger. Letting anyone else see what I am. But it’s not just the two of us anymore. It’s the three of us. And Gavrail doesn’t get to be the only one who decides what risks are worth taking.
