Page 101 of Emylia

I tested the weight in my hand. “Anything else I should know?”

He met my gaze, slow and deliberate. “Just... don’t stop.”

From behind, Sebastian drawled, “She never does.”

I crouched, brimming with smug confidence, and drew the blade.

Nothing.

I adjusted. Tried again.

Gouged it.

“Just warming up,” I muttered.

“You’re butchering it,” Sebastian offered. “It’s honestly impressive.”

“I hate you.” I spat back without venom.

“And yet... I’m still your favorite person.”

I flipped him off. He only smiled wider.

Another try. Slower. Still wrong.

The blade caught. My rhythm faltered.

Then—

He was there.

I hadn’t heard him move. But Maalikai was suddenly behind me, chest flush to my back, breath warm at my ear, hands sliding over mine—controlling. Guiding.

“Stop fighting it,” he whispered. “Let it flow.”

Heat flared, wicked and immediate. My pulse kicked sideways.

His voice wasn’t just a sound—it was a sin.

The world shrank to that point of contact:

His fingers.

His breath.

The press of his palm over mine.

The dark scent of mint and pine curling beneath my skin.

He moved with me, slow and sure, as the drawknife slid forward—wood curling beneath the steel in perfect, effortless strips.

“There,” he breathed. And it hit harder than the axe.

Behind us, Sebastian’s voice sliced through the moment like a knife dipped in honey. “You two good back there? Or should I give you a minute?”

I pulled away fast, heat climbing my throat.

But my hands still tingled.

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