Page 133 of Anathema

“Keep it smooth. Faster.”

I found myself focusing on him instead of the staff, taking in the way he concentrated on my hand placement. Through the winding stick, his eyes found me. And there we stood, in a face off, separated by the fast-twirling staff between us.

“Faster.”

I did as he commanded, twirling the staff faster, so fast, it was nothing but a blur passing before me.

He circled me, prowling. Hands gripped my waist, firmly. His broad chest pressed against my back. “Faster,” he whispered in my ear, and I felt his fingers curl into my sides. A rising heat warmed my blood, and I flushed at the thought of what I wanted him to do with those fingers.

I didn’t know what happened in that moment, but my heart pounded a steady thump, and something tugged at my belly. The urge to cross my thighs twitched my muscles. Every breath arrived shaky and fast.

“Let go, Lunamiszka.”

Let go? Of the staff?

The second I let go, it started to fall, but he quickly pressed his palms to the tops of my hands, and an intense heat pulsed through my wrists. Black smoke drifted upward from our joined hands while the stick remained spinning in the air by itself.

A breath of a laugh escaped me, as it hovered in front of me, spinning faster and faster.

“Is it me doing this, or you?”

“I’m supplying the power, but it’s you who commands it.”

Me commanding his power.

I closed my eyes, focusing on the heat in my palm, hardly noticing he slid his hand to my hip, until his fingers gripped my bones. The winding, searing tendrils of black flame curled through me, stretching and coiling around my muscles. The heat intensified, rippling through my hand, throbbing between my thighs, and in that moment, I had the strongest, most infuriating inclination to reach down into my leather trousers.

In the darkness of my mind, I saw black swirls dancing around me, billowing through my veins like hot ribbons that throbbed in my muscles.

“What are you doing?” he whispered in a shaky voice.

The question severed my thoughts. The stick flew out of my hands, spinning in the air to the left of me, where it crashed to the floor in a clatter.

Zevander released me at the same time Dolion’s head snapped up from his reading.

Breaths heaving, I stood trying to decipher what I was feeling right then.

“We’ll stop for today.” He strode past me, not bothering to say anything to Dolion as he exited the training room.

Having caught my breath, I crossed the room for the staff and hung it back on the wall. As I approached, Dolion held out a glass of water, a puzzled look on his face.

“What happened?”

I stared down into the water, noting the agitated surface, bubbling as if over a hot flame. “One minute I was innocently channeling his power, and the next, I felt like I was somehow siphoning it into myself.” A burn at my palm drew my attention to a glowing symbol etched into my skin, the blood trickling out of the tiny cuts.

I held out my hand to him. “What is this?”

Raising his spectacles to his eyes, he took hold of my hand, tilting it in his palm. “I’m not familiar with this one, at all.”

He scrambled for his paper and inkwell, and made quick sketches of the glyph, his hands trembling with what I imagined was far more excitement than I could summon. “This is incredible, indeed! Tell me, what were you doing just now?”

“Spinning a staff in the air. Zevander told me to let go of it, and he channeled his power through me.”

As I spoke, Dolion hastily jotted notes, dipping his quill in between. “And did you feel something?”

I had no intention of telling him what I felt in that moment. “Well, yes. I felt like … like I was in control.”

His scribbling paused, and he lifted his gaze to me. “You felt as if his power became yours?”

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