Page 51 of A Storm of Fire and Ice

“It is, but don’t worry about it. We’re Combined Enchanted, born to wield different elements. We’ll figure it out together.”

I nibbled my lip anxiously. “I know, but . . . you all trusted me with teaching you, and I’m failing already.”

“Hey, no way.” He gave me a sympathetic glance. “Let’s try again right now. You and me.”

Gentle hands gripped my shoulders, coaxing me to roll over and face him. I drank in the sight of his handsome features, all chiseled lines and artistic angles. His wavy black hair was endearingly mussed from sleep. Temporarily dazzled, I almost forgot our conversation.

“Teach me,” he prompted.

I blinked. “Huh?”

“How do you summon ice? Don’t overthink it. Just talk me through it.” His navy eyes bored into mine intently.

“Um . . .” I still struggled to verbalize the instinctive process. “Summoning ice requires pushing feelings aside to focus solely on the task at hand,” I explained slowly. “Don’t dwell on emotions. Concentrate entirely on what needs to be done in that moment.”

Brontes nodded, his brow furrowed in concentration. “Right, you said we need a blank mind to wield ice magic.”

“Not exactly blank,” I clarified. “Thoughts will still come. Simply acknowledge then release them. Don’t cling to anything except your purpose.” I hoped my guidance was clear enough.

“Release my thoughts,” Brontes murmured. His gaze grew distant, turned inward.

Abruptly he sat up, eyeing a vase on the windowsill. “No emotions,” he repeated under his breath. Eyes closed, Brontes extended his palm. Nothing happened. Shoulders slumping, he sighed, “Damn.”

I hesitated before gently asking, “Is there anything that makes you feel numb?”

Brontes thought a moment before giving a hollow chuckle. “Listening to my father drone on about military strategy usually did the trick. I was bored to death.”

“Okay, imagine that.” I giggled. “Now, give it another try.”

Brontes’s eyes closed, and his handsome features smoothed into an emotionless mask. He raised his hand once more. This time, frost crept steadily across the vase’s surface.

“My gods!” I cried joyfully. “You did it!”

“Did I?” Brontes stared at the icy vase and back at his hands. He lifted them again to conjure a cluster of snowflakes that danced around us. He grinned at me, his boyish delight melting my heart. “Thanks to a certain gifted teacher.”

Suddenly, a jolt of cold shot through my fingers and frost bloomed between our palms, sealing them together in an icy grip. We gaped at our clasped hands, stunned by this new development.

“Oh no!” I gasped. My cheeks flushed with embarrassment. This wasn’t part of the lesson plan.

His eyebrows rose in amusement as I gave an experimental tug, dragging his hands along with mine.

“Trust me, the pleasure is all mine,” Brontes laughed, the rich sound rolling through his broad chest.

I bit my lip, contemplating how to free us. “Let me try something,” I whispered, focusing my storm powers to generate warmth in my fingertips.

As the heat radiated from my skin, the ice melted away. Our hands remained locked together, now slick with water instead of encased in frost.

“Fixed it,” I replied, my voice barely audible as I reveled in the feeling of our entwined fingers. The warmth seeped into every pore, mingling with the electric charge that always accompanied our touch.

Brontes chuckled deep in his throat, his eyes studying me intently. “You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?”

He leaned in closer, his warm breath caressing my cheek. I nodded, nuzzling against the crook of his neck. Just being close to him made me feel safer, his familiar scent enveloped me—a mix of sandalwood and electricity that made my heart race.

“You are intoxicating,” he breathed out, leaning down to nibble at my earlobe.

I gasped, arching into the touch, unable to resist his magnetic pull any longer.

Brontes kissed me fiercely, claiming my mouth with his tongue, tasting me thoroughly as if he’d been starving for this moment.

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