The earth’s magic surged as if someone had awakened it, the green glow of the fireflies twinkling around us in excitement. Tiny pops of jewel-bright color joined in, the sparks of Ilyan’s magic mixing with my own and igniting in the air like a million Christmas lights.
Ilyan didn’t even seem to notice. He wound his arm around my waist as he pulled me off the cold stone of the balcony and onto his lap, pressing me against him. He held me there, his lips moving with mine in a fevered heat. He held me as if he were afraid I would disappear, as if this wasn’t real. In a way, it didn’t feel real, and I was thankful for the pressure, the promise that this wasn’t all a dream. The certainty that Ilyan was here and he was kissing me back.
He pressed his lips against mine roughly, moving in perfect harmony as he deepened the kiss, as he moved into me, became part of me. The deep connection rocked through me again as his magic reacted, flaring in a white hot spark of passion.
Passion.
It was different, so much different than before.
My magic pushed through me, right to the point where my hands made contact with Ilyan’s skin. It bubbled and grew in a turbulent movement that shook my nerves. It flowed through me like Ilyan was calling it home, and I realized that, in a way, he was.
He groaned at the sensation, his fingers clawing at my shirt as I felt the conflict rise up in him, and he pulled away, his magic withdrawing from me. Everything swirled in a dizzying heat as his magic left me, the world spinning while I fought the need to call out for him and his magic. He held me against him, his breath panting over the long strands of my black hair as he fought the same desire.
“Stop, my love. I can’t bond myself to you, not yet,” he gasped as he pressed his cheek against mine, his winded words soft in my ear.
Is that what was about to happen? I was certain it was. Without a doubt, I knew.
I had felt the same wild need and desperate possessiveness when Ryland had bonded himself to me before, though nothing on this level. Before, it was something that I had thought was real. Feeling this now, however… feeling Ilyan’s magic flow through me while his arms cradled me, his lips held me, and his magic protected me—feeling his passion, his commitment, his selfless love—I knew how wrong I had been. This was home. This was love.
This was real.
“I want this,” I sighed into him; my voice was soft, each word formed perfectly. My fingers trailed over the small hairs on the back of his neck, causing him to tremble underneath me. I couldn’t help smiling at his reaction.
“Joclyn,” he moaned, and I could hear his deep regret as he tried to convince himself he was doing the right thing even though his desire to lose himself in me almost won over.
Ilyan kept his hold on me as he moved away just enough to look at me, his face so close I would only have to lean forward to connect with him again. My breath faltered at the thought, the energy of my magic picking up. Ilyan smiled, obviously sensing the activity for himself, his eyes dancing in joy.
“I want this,” he whispered, soft and intimate. His eyes dug into mine as his hand moved away from my back to caress the side of my face. The scarred skin of his palm was strangely soft and comforting. “I want to bond myself to you and be with you for as long as we walk the earth, but this is your choice to make, and I will never take that away. I want to know you are making this choice for you. Not in fear or anger. Not when things may change and other emotions may return. I want you to make this choice in love, and I will wait for that. It is so soon after my father severed your bond with Ryland. I don’t want…”
I jumped at the mention of his name, causing Ilyan to stop mid-sentence. Hearing his name spoken aloud brought back the horrors, and my body quaked as my vision faded, creating red walls and destroyed floors in my imagination.
“Shh, my love,” Ilyan soothed as his thumb ran over my cheekbone, his gentle touch and the warmth of his magic spreading through me in an attempt to take away the fearful edge of the hallucinations that lacerated me.
I tried to focus on him, but it was no use. I had heard the implication behind what he’d said, and my shoulders knit together as I tried to find the pressure that my battered subconscious craved.
“I d-do n-not l-l-love Ryland-d,” I hissed, my voice shaking as I stuttered.
“Jos, we cannot be sure of that…” Ilyan began, but my fear and anger overpowered him. My voice erupted in his head much louder than I intended, and he flinched.