Chapter 33
The study of fire is not in the ferocity of its blaze, but in its control. Only the strongest flame-wielders can allow their magick to touch without destroying. Fire untethered devours; fire guided sanctifies. The difference lies in the hand—and the heart—that wields it.
—Elemental Mastery IV: The Covenant of Fire
February arrives at Whittaker, cold and unforgiving, its often-unpredictable weather torn between heavy winter storms and light, fluffy bluebird days.
The lake is now completely frozen over. Footsteps vanish instantly beneath a fresh dusting of snow, only to reappear again as the harsh wind scours the ground with icy teeth.
When the school cancels Friday and Monday classes ahead of a storm rolling in, Noa suggests we escape to Elesmere for the extended weekend.
I say yes easily—too easily—because the timing is perfect.
Gavrail and I finally have a window to search for the book.
And, because the universe has an impeccably ironic sense of timing, it also happens to be Valentine’s Day.
Elesmere in winter is a dream painted in frost and candlelight.
Snow clings to every eave and branch like spun sugar, and the trees stand frozen in quiet reverence, their limbs glittering with crystal teardrops from last night’s thaw.
The cobbled streets are swept clean and dusted in white.
Bells tinkle above storefronts—warm, soft notes that dance in the cold air, while fairy lights weave between garlands of pine and gold bells that are strung up around the square.
In the center, a frozen fountain glistens beneath an archway of lanterns.
Noa drives Finn, Ryan, and me in his car. Other students take the Whittaker shuttle from campus, the one I took the first time I came here. We arrive around lunchtime, and I spot Ink his eyes are bright.
I look up at him questioningly.
“Do you trust me?” The way he says it, the way he looks at me, makes heat lick up my spine.
I nod.
Suddenly I feel warmth bloom at the edges of the lace—gentle, precise.
Not pain. Not burning. Just a playful flare, like his magick is teasing the fabric apart more than destroying it.
The threads loosen into ember-light, disappearing in a whisper of ash that makes me gasp.
Leaving me completely naked and at his mercy.
He chuckles at the sound, utterly pleased with himself, a cocky grin on his face as he looks down at his handiwork, eyes dark with desire. He moves lower, positioning his head between my thighs.
I gasp as his mouth finds my center. Maddening fire-laced circles contrast with the cool air of the room, making me cry out against him as his strong hands pin my hips to the bed. I come apart under his mouth, trembling and weightless, my hands finding their way into his chestnut-dark hair.
I tug him up and he moves to kiss me again, and I taste myself on him. I can’t wait anymore.
“I need you, Noa. Please,” I pant between breaths.
His eyes blink gold at the edges as he holds my gaze while moving to guide himself into me.
He enters in one deep thrust, filling me until I cry out, clutching at his shoulders.
The world narrows to the slide of his body against mine.
Each movement is deliberate, deeper, harder, until I’m arching up to meet him, desperate for more, greedy for the way he makes me burn.
The hearth surges, flames clawing high as his pace quickens, wild now, sweat beading along his temples.
His hand finds mine, pinning it above my head, fingers laced tight.
The other grips my hip, anchoring me as his mouth claims first one breast and the other, teeth and tongue tugging until my back bows off the sheets.
I shatter once more with him still inside me, heat exploding outward like wildfire, every nerve lit.
He follows on the next thrust, groaning my name into the hollow of my neck, hips jerking as his magick bursts uncontrolled.
The fire blazes white-hot, then collapses into glowing embers, the room hazy with heat and smoke.
He falls back on the bed as he pulls me onto his chest, breath ragged, heart still thundering beneath my cheek.
For a long moment, neither of us speak. The rise and fall of his breathing steadies me, a lullaby against the muffled wind outside.
His hand strokes absently over my hair, over the bracelet now glittering on my wrist, and the world feels quiet, safe, whole, while I lie there in his arms.
I’ve only ever felt like this once before. The memory slips in uninvited—silver eyes in the dark, the taste of shadow and skin. I press closer to Noa, as if his heat could chase the ghosts away.
He shifts beneath me as he glances at the now-banked fire with a crooked grin. “Maybe I’m the one who needs grounding lessons.”
I laugh, kissing him.
The inn creaks around us, old wood settling. Snow starts to fall softly against the windows, turning to water the instant it presses against the heated glass.