Page 78 of What Blooms from Death

The word settled like an invitation between us.

I kept waiting for him to take it back.

He didn’t.

I licked away the dryness on my lips, and then I heard myself say: “Let’s try it and see.”

Something hungry yet hesitant flashed in his eyes. His heart raced beneath my touch, and mine skipped several beats, trying to catch up.

“This could end poorly,” he warned. “Or dangerously.”

“I’m sure I’ve survived worse than whateverdangerousthings we mightawaken.”

“As have I. But still.” He drew his hand away from my back. For a moment, he appeared to be at war with himself—an instant away from turning and rushing back down the stairs.

Then he reached toward my face, letting his knuckles graze my jawline. His thumb traced my lips, and his own lips parted as if in anticipation. “But still…we should go slowly. Carefully. So we can better pinpoint our exact…”

His hand slipped lower, trailing across the hollow of my throat, and I forgot to breathe for a moment.

“…Reactions to things,” he finished in a low, tense voice.

I took a step back so I could collect myself enough to calmly agree with this plan. I regretted the space the instant I put it between us; it only seemed to make the heat in my blood worse. The air all around us was suddenly charged with energy, the pressure of our rising power growing more intense—more undeniable—with every passing second.

He was the one to close the distance between us again, circling me as he came, studying the cold shadows I could feel moving across my skin. He twisted a hand through my hair, moving a section of it over my shoulder so he could watch the darkness creeping its way along the back of my neck.

“This is as dark as I’ve seen these markings,” he commented.

“Maybe it’s the terrible lighting in here.”

“Maybe.”

A flutter went through me as he traced the shifting markings with a thoughtful touch. I kept my eyes straight ahead, focused on the ornate bench, studying the faded shimmer of its teal and gold cushions.

“But every brush of contact seems to stir them up even more.” He seemed to lose himself in the act of mapping out my skin and stirring things up; testing the way the shadows reacted to his touch; memorizing the patterns they followed; gently pushing the collar of my shirt aside so he could better study the branches of black reaching toward the space between my shoulder blades…

Eventually, he pulled his hand away and replaced his physical touch with one of magic, summoning tiny spears of light that pressed against my skin like branding irons. Everywhere the light burned in, my power followed, cooling it. Calming it. Making it feel…balanced. When he stopped summoning and let his light tumble freely through the space, the opposite proved true as well; his magic naturally gravitated toward mine.

For several minutes, we watched it all dance among the dust, Shadow and Light circling and occasionally twisting together with fleeting, iridescent glints of something more powerful.

The space began to glow with hints of that greater power. Nothing grew among the wood and plaster, of course, yet it all still felt morealive. The floorboards shivered. The light siphoning in from above seemed purer. The quiet was no longer eerie, but warm and expectant—like the excited hush before a theatre performance, bristling with promise and possibility. I would have sworn I heard the whispers and quiet laughter of a jubilant, just barely contained crowd.

And every time the shades of our magic collided, I felt it twisting along my body as if Aleksander was physically touching me again—as if his fingers were raking across bundles of exposed nerve endings. The sensation was so intense I found myself drifting closer and closer to him, wanting to see what might happen if heactuallytouched me.

Could this high I was experiencing possibly spiral even higher?

The line between my magic and desire steadily blurred. A ribbon of his light wove around my legs, its warmth caressing the apex of my thighs, and a soft sigh of pleasure fell from my lips before I could catch it. My eyes had fluttered shut, but I could sense Aleksander’s gaze settling more intentionally on me at the sound.

His warning from before whispered through my thoughts.

Thisdidfeeldangerous.

But maybe not in the way he’d meant.

And maybe not in the way I’d been prepared for.

I forced myself to turn and take a step away, trying once again to stay focused on experimenting withmagicand nothing else.

But Aleksander followed as if it was part of the dance we’d recklessly, foolishly started, hooking an arm around my waist from behind, just barely letting its weight rest against me. His fingers caged lightly against my hip. Just enough pressure to hold me in place.

---