Page 58 of The Iron Flower

Lukas releases my hand and opens another door near the woodstove. He flashes a beckoning smile and gracefully gestures for me to join him.

His bedroom.

“You asked for somewhere private,” Lukas says, an amused smile on his lips as a flicker of his fire affinity pulses through me, catching me off guard.

“I can feel your fire lines,” I tell him, suddenly flustered.

“Oh, I know you can,” he says throatily.

“No, not just when we touch,” I clarify, deeply thrown. “I just sensed your fire from across the distance between us.”

Lukas’s eyes narrow in on me. “That’s a rare skill, Elloren. To sense affinities from a distance. I’ve never heard of anyone below Level Five being able to do it.”

“Can you sense other Mages’ affinities?” I ask.

His gaze rakes over me, taking on a sultry heat. “Only yours. And only when I touch you.”

“Oh.” I glance through the open doorway at Lukas’s bed, a heated tremor running through me. His black bedspread is quilted with the image of a large tree styled in a deeper black. Directly across from the bed, a fireplace crackles with flames.Two black velvet chairs and a table well-appointed with food and drink are set by the fire.

I hesitate. “I’m not getting into that bed with you,” I tell him, making things clear.

Lukas’s predatory look doesn’t waver. “I wouldn’t expect so, Elloren. Not on this occasion.” His voice is a caress as he adds, “But if you change your mind, please feel free to let me know.”

Oh, sweet Ancient One.

I can barely think around his pull. But even though he’s unabashedly teasing me, I can sense he’s keeping his fire and earth magic firmly in check. Emboldened, I flash him a guarded look and step inside.

The bedroom’s walls are lined with bookshelves. Curious about his interests, I walk over to one of the shelves and scan the titles, running a fingertip over the smooth leather spines—military history, foreign language dictionaries, grimoires. All impeccably organized.

I turn and scan the rest of the room.

There’s a piano, just past the bed, fashioned from Ironwood. A small forest of trees is carved into it, rising up to support the instrument’s lid. I’m instantly intrigued. It’s the only messy area of Lukas’s entire dwelling, with music thrown into piles on the piano, the floor and the piano bench—most of it written in his own hand, as if he’s funneling all his passion into this one area—unleashed and uncontained.

“You should have brought your violin,” he says, his eyes following my gaze.

“Mmm,” I distractedly agree, remembering the exhilarating joy of playing with a musician of his caliber. The memory fills me with the uneasy realization that there are aspects of Lukas’s company that I deeply enjoy.

Another balcony lies just off his bedroom. Large black curtains sweep down and are tied back to the sides of double glass doors, another expansive view of the base just beyond.

I sit down by the fireplace. There’s a full tea service before me, its elegant black porcelain shot through with golden tree limbs. A tray of small sandwiches, pastries and exotic berries is set beside it, along with an ebony glass bottle and fluted crystalline glasses.

There’s also a small bouquet of glowing Ironflowers set in a black-lacquered vase. I’m oddly touched by the sight of them, remembering his dazed look when he saw my dress at Yule, sure that he’s hinting at that night with this gesture.

Lukas sits down across from me and leans back with casual grace, his gaze dark and inscrutable. “Would you like some tea?” he asks.

I raise a brow. “You’re going to serve me tea, Lukas?”

He laughs and reaches for the teapot to pour me a cup, his eyes lit with wicked mischief. “I’ll serve you anything you like, Elloren.”

His fingers graze mine as I take the proffered cup, trailing an enticing line of heat. “Are you trying to court me, Lukas?” I ask as I sit back, half in jest.

An amused sound escapes his lips. “Oh, I’d do better than tea if you’d let me.” He’s watching me intently, and I’m momentarily much too aware of how devastatingly handsome he is.

Scrambling for a distraction from that dangerous train of thought, I glance out the nearby window toward the base below. “You’ve done quite the job of rebuilding,” I note, unable to keep a trace of resentment from my tone.

Lukas’s mouth twitches as he studies me, suddenly serious. “Elloren, what is it you want?”

I hold his abruptly formidable gaze, both of us serious now. Overcome with nervous tension, I set down my tea, rise to my feet, and walk over to the fireplace, desperate to collect my thoughts. I study the sword that hangs over the mantel, a dragon exquisitely wrought from silver curling around its hilt.

---