Page 139 of The Shadow Wand

“Elloren...”

He drives a gasp from my lungs with one final thrust that floods me with warmth as he groans and grips me, his fire spiraling all around my body, scorching through my lines.

His jaw presses into my shoulder, his breath hot. Every muscle in his body rock-hard.

His eyes meet mine.

Open. Wide-open. Unguarded.

The wild yearning in his eyes stuns me, and I almost shrink back from the intensity of it.

After a long moment, Lukas’s breathing evens out, and the raw, ardent intensity in his gaze dampens.

We lie embracing like this for a moment, both of us seeming stunned.

He pulls out in one smooth motion as I cling to him, still in a haze of magic and heat. “No, don’t go,” I protest.

Lukas gives a low laugh as he moves off me and onto his back, now staring at the ceiling, one hand on his muscular stomach, his breathing deep and ragged.

I sense a void opening between us, and I cling to him, hugging his arm. But he seems suddenly lost in thought, elusive.

I’m still affected by the force of our combined magic, overcome by a pleasurable, heated daze, but I’m clear that he’s been incredibly thoughtful in how he’s handled me. There’s only a small, throbbing ache where he’s been, mingled with the hot, lingering pleasure.

He turns and meets my eyes.

“I’m still caught up in your fire,” I tell him.

One finger traces lightly along my side. “I’m caught up in everything about you,” he says, his voice throaty. “You’re so lovely, Elloren. Just...beautiful.” He’s looking at my body with deep appreciation, like it’s a fine work of art. His gaze lifts to mine and the affection in his eyes strikes a chord deep inside my heart.

I hold up my hand and marvel at how the fasting marks have changed, intricate new spirals flowing down my glimmering-green wrist.

Lukas holds his similarly marked wrist up and then traces the lines of my wrist with a fingertip. “Have I brought you sufficiently to heel,” he teases, sending a shiver through me as he traces the line.

I cough out a laugh, and even through our magical thrall, I manage a look of white-hot defiance. “No.”

Lukas’s laugh is low and satisfied. “Good.” He lightly touches the tip of my nose, smiling wickedly before his eyes grow serious. “Hold on to that.” His smile fades, and that ardent fire is suddenly back in his eyes.

Then conflict.

Lukas eases onto his back and stares at the ceiling again, his expression unreadable.

I’m too relaxed from the fire still coursing through me to feel any sting at his withdrawal. The pull of his magic, the wild pleasure of being with him—it all spirals together and sweeps me into a black, dreamless sleep.

CHAPTER SEVEN

ASHES

ELLOREN GREY

Sixth Month

Valgard, Gardneria

When my eyes flutter open, dawn is illuminating the edges of the drawn curtains.

Lukas is up. Even in the early-morning light, I can tell that he’s bathed. I smell soap mingled with that deep-forest scent of his. He’s in newly pressed pants, his chest bare as he pulls his belt through the loops.

I stir, disoriented, and meet Lukas’s intent gaze. His eyes flick toward my chest, and I see a spark of interest in them as he buckles his belt.

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