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She nodded. “It’s your arcanium, your intuition we’re following, but I think so.”
“It’sourarcanium,” he corrected. “And yes, this feels like the focal point.”
“You’ll need a knife,” she told him.
He tensed, wary. “What for?”
“Another tool, Gabriel,” she said soothingly. “Don’t worry—my tail will grow back.”
“What?” he gasped in horror, and she burst out laughing.
“I’m teasing!” Her laughter became a shriek of giggles as he picked her up and kissed her firmly.
“No teasing,” he told her sternly.
“Yes, master,” she said humbly, but with a smirk.
He set her on her feet again. “Seriously, Nic. I’m nervous enough as it is.”
She patted his arm. “Don’t be. This is pretty simple. Then, once it’s done, you can spoil me by supplying me with wine while I soak in a hot bath.”
“Not that you’re obsessed with hot baths.”
“Notobsessed, no.”
He took a breath. “Any blade will do?”
“Given your magic, I’d go with a silver one. That cabinet ought to hold some.”
It did: drawers of blades in all sizes, some clearly ceremonial, others looking like they might be used to butcher animals. What sort of people had his ancestors been? Shoving that thought aside, he picked the most ceremonial-looking dagger—an athame with a handle made of shining obsidian—the double-edged blade wickedly sharp. When he turned back to Nic, she’d shed her clothing and stood naked under the moon window, arms upraised as she turned in a slow circle, hair spilling down her back as glossy black as obsidian, moonlight silvering her perfect curves.
Noticing his regard, she lowered her chin and smiled at him. “The moonlight feels good. I like it.”
“Do you have to be naked?” he asked gruffly, wanting to toss the athame away and ravish her sweet body.
“It’s traditional,” she replied sweetly. “And since neither of us has done this before, I think it’s best to stick to the rules, much as you disdain them.”
“I’ll strip, too, then.”
She shook her head. “No—you stay clothed. We’re drawing lines of power here.”
“No, we aren’t,” he said with firm determination. “We’re making this a partnership.” Going back to the cabinet, he selected a second athame, twin to the first—speaking of a good omen—and stripped off his clothing. Returning to naked to Nic, he handed her one athame, which she regarded with bemusement.
“What am I to do with this?” she asked, almost—though not quite—rolling her eyes at him.
“Whatever I’m doing with this one,” he replied. “Reciprocal.”
“You really are impossibly stubborn.”
He grinned at her tone. “Something you’ve known from the moment you met me,” he reminded her.
“True,” she sighed.
“What next?”
“The familiar kneels.”
“Then we both do.” Taking her hand, he steadied her as they knelt in unison, facing each other within the circle, the moonlight shivering like frozen sparks over his skin, potent and arousing. “Do you feel that?”
