Page 45 of Magic in My Bones

I took a deep breath, trying to steady the tremble in my voice. “It was devastating to learn that everything I thought I knew about my parents, about the principles they stood for, was a lie.”

Ren's thumb stroked soothingly over the back of my hand, grounding me in the present moment. “I'm so sorry, Dorian. I can't imagine how painful that must have been for you.”

I nodded, swallowing hard against the lump in my throat. “It shattered me, for a long time. I felt like I didn't know who I was anymore, like the foundation I'd built my entire identity upon had crumbled beneath my feet.”

“But you rebuilt,” Ren said softly, his eyes shining with a fierce kind of pride. “You took that pain and that betrayal and you turned it into something beautiful. You became the kind of necromancer, the kind of man, that your parents should have been.”

I lifted our joined hands, pressing a fervent kiss to his knuckles. “Thank you, mo stóirín,” I murmured, my voice rough with emotion. “Your faith in me means more than I can say. Forgive me, I didn't mean to burden you with such weighty matters. Tonight was meant to be a respite from the darkness, not an invitation to wallow in it.”

Ren shook his head. “You're not a burden, Dorian. This is all a part of what makes you who you are, and I want to get to know all of that.”

How did I get so lucky to have this beautiful, compassionate soul in my life?

And yet, even as I basked in the warmth of his presence, a tendril of unease curled in my gut. The spirit attacks, the mark on Ren's forehead, the whispers of a dark ritual... it all felt uncomfortably familiar. Like history repeating itself in the cruelest of ways.

I drew in a shaky breath. “Well, let me clear these dishes and we can move on to more pleasant pursuits.”

I stood, gathering up our empty plates and cutlery, the soft clink of porcelain and silver a soothing counterpoint to the heavysilence that had fallen. Ren rose as well, his hand reaching out to still mine as I reached for his glass.

“Let me help,” he insisted.

Together, we carried the dishes to the sink, our shoulders brushing in the narrow kitchen. As I turned on the tap, letting the hot water fill the basin, Ren's arms encircled my waist from behind, his chest pressing flush against my back. The contact sent a surge of magic through us both, our power twining together in ways that made my breath catch. Every point where our bodies touched felt electric, and when his lips brushed my neck, the dual sensation of physical and magical connection nearly undid me completely.

I could feel his heartbeat against my back, could sense the way his magic pulsed in time with mine, creating patterns of light and shadow that danced around us like cosmic dust. The pressure of his body against mine, the heat of him seeping through my clothes, made my own body respond with an intensity that was hard to ignore.

“Ren,” I breathed, my voice rougher than I intended. My hands tightened on the counter as I fought the urge to turn and pin him against it, to show him exactly what he was doing to me. But this was his pace to set, his boundaries to explore.

I turned in the circle of his arms, the dishes forgotten as I faced him. His eyes were dark and intent, pupils blown wide with a hunger that echoed my own. Slowly, giving him time to pull away, I lifted a hand to cup his cheek, my thumb brushing reverently over the arch of his cheekbone.

“Tell me what you want, mo stóirín,” I murmured, the endearment falling from my lips like a prayer. “I’ll give you whatever you need.”

In answer, Ren leaned forward and captured my lips with his own, the kiss soft and tentative at first, then growing bolder as I responded. A soft sigh escaped him as I pulled him closer, myarms encircling his waist as his wound around my neck. The kiss quickly deepened, weeks of pent-up longing pouring out of us both as we clung to each other.

I let Ren control the pace, matching his fervor but not pushing for more, letting him explore and discover what felt right. His fingers tangled in my hair, tugging gently as he pressed himself closer, his body molding perfectly to mine. I pulled back just enough to catch my breath, my forehead resting against his as we shared the same air.

Ren's eyes fluttered open, dark and glazed with want, and I felt a surge of possessive pride knowing I'd put that look there.

I cupped his face in my hands, thumbs sweeping tenderly over his flushed cheeks. “I've got you, mo grá,” I murmured, the Irish endearment slipping out unbidden. My love. “Tell me what you need.”

Ren's lips parted around a shaky exhale. “Honestly? I think I might need to sit down. I’m a little dizzy.”

I chuckled softly, pressing a tender kiss to Ren's forehead before taking his hand and leading him into the living room to sit on the sofa.

17

The Language of Being

Ren

The room tilted slightlyas I sat back on the sofa, my hand still holding Dorian’s, as if that simple connection could steady me. My breath came in quick, shallow pulls, the aftermath of that kiss leaving me reeling in a way I hadn’t expected.

Dorian’s presence felt like a soft weight at my side, grounding me, his gaze gentle yet intense as he watched me. His thumb brushed across my knuckles, slow and steady, like he was waiting for me to catch up with myself. I swallowed, trying to calm the erratic pulse in my chest.

“You all right?” he asked, his voice low and warm, laced with concern.

I nodded, offering him a small smile that felt a little shaky. “Yeah... Just... a little dizzy, that’s all.”

He didn’t pull away, didn’t give me space to hide. Instead, he shifted closer, his thigh brushing mine, and my body reacted before my mind could catch up. I was still dizzy, still disoriented, but in the best possible way.

---