Chapter 35
Heat will always seek a vessel. And flame will always seek something to burn.
—Elemental Mastery IV: The Covenant of Fire
Back on campus on Monday, the winter storm is well underway. Thick sheets of snow slant sideways under slicing wind, turning the stone paths and towers into a blur of white and shadow.
After the way I behaved in Elesmere, I’m desperate to make up for it, even though Noa never mentioned it again. I convince him to wait out the worst of the storm with me inside the Cavern, then drag him to his private quarters to thaw out our frozen skin.
Once inside the fire-carved door, we hang our coats on the hooks jutting out from the stone walls, the fabric stiff where snow has melted and refrozen along the seams. Our hats, scarves, and thick winter gloves are laid out to dry while we indulge.
Noa changes quickly and heads for the steam room, towel wrapped loosely around his hips.
I slip off my clothes by the stone bench in the corner and hold up my swimsuit, studying it for a long beat.
A slow smirk curves my lips—and I set the suit back on the bench and step barefoot toward the pool at the back of the chamber.
The warm water envelops me as I slip in, completely naked.
The private hot-spring pool is neatly carved into the rock, about six feet across, its stone walls gently curving up where you can lean back.
There’s a small stone staircase at the front, leading down into the water.
Built-in benches line the sides, the dark stones polished smooth by centuries of use.
Steam rises where the hot spring meets the cool cave air, drifting up past simple iron rings holding lanterns in carved wall niches.
I settle myself on one of the benches while I wait for Noa. The warm water eases over my skin, sinking into every frozen inch of me. My muscles loosen one by one, tension unwinding until I’m boneless, floating—soft and slack, like wax warmed in the sun.
I hear the door open as Noa exits the sauna. Sweat clings to his body, dripping down his chest and pooling at the sharp grooves of his lower abdomen, just above the towel—those vee-cut lines that draw the eye to what I am already wickedly picturing below.
I arch back, resting my head on the stone edge of the pool, my breasts rising above the water as Noa’s gaze drops—then lingers—at the peaks of exposed flesh, my nipples hardened as they react to the cold cave air.
His eyes darken with lust and delight at the sight of me there watching him. Waiting for him.
Slowly, he lets the towel fall from his hips, and I can see just how much he already wants me.
He walks over to the pool and steps down the stone steps, standing over me. He sinks down into the water, drifting so that his body hovers over mine.
“Hi,” he says, his smile tipping to the side as he finds my neck with his lips.
I arch back, enjoying the shiver of pleasure it gives me as he nibbles and sucks at the skin below my ear. His hands move languidly in the warm water, touching, kneading, massaging. Feeling the slickness between my thighs through the heat.
I reach for him, my fingers wrapping around the thick length of him, stroking slowly, from base to tip.
Each movement draws a breathless gasp from his throat, the kind that makes my pulse stutter.
His breathing grows harsh, every inhale tight with restraint.
I guide him to sit, straddling him as the steam curls around us like smoke.
I lower myself onto him, letting my weight sink down inch by inch with a sharp inhale.
His lips part beneath mine as I kiss him—deep, claiming, and then biting down just enough to draw a growl from his throat.
I feel… everything—the stretch of him filling me, the scrape where my teeth meet his lips, the wet heat between us amplified by the water soaking our skin.
His hands clutch my hips, grounding us, while mine slide into his hair, tugging him deeper into the kiss, deeper into me.
I move slowly, savoring the way his breath catches—his agony delicious and just shy of unbearable.
I pick up speed, watching for the moment his breathing shifts, the edge of unraveling—then I stop.
I kiss him instead. His mouth. His neck.
My hands glide down his chest, mapping muscle and bone, until his breath slows again… and I start over.
I take him to the brink twice more, keeping him teetering on that ledge until his control finally snaps.
I can feel the fire before I see it, sparking from his fingertips, sending streaks of impossibly warm water right there, alternating the pressure like an extension of his fingers—push, pull, warm, hot—again and again as I ride him.
It’s too much.
I drag my hands through the water as it spirals around us, a shallow whirlpool stirred by our magick and movement. Noa’s flames heat the surface until steam rises, misting the air, forming a glowing cloud overhead.
Our bodies slide together, slick and seamless, his hands on my hips, lifting me in time with each thrust. The vortex spins faster.
The air thickens. Then his real hands—strong and sure—find the aching center of me as I ride him.
The contrast of his heat against the cool air makes me cry out as I arch against him.
Above us, the cloud pulses. The pressure in the room shifts—air destabilizing, crackling with something ancient. Our magicks—fire and water—aren’t fighting. They’re fusing.
The pressure inside us builds, rising higher and higher until it can no longer hold.
And then—I break, a wave shattering against a cliff, relentless and consuming.
Light flashes within the cloud above us—brief, brilliant sparks blooming like shooting stars across a night sky.
Oh my gods. I look up.
We’ve created a storm.
Noa lifts me and slams into me one last time before throwing his head back against the stone ledge, falling over the edge, his eyes closed.
We’re lost in each other. Lost in this moment.
Our bodies are covered in steam and mist as the hot water of the pool laps back around us, wrapping us in its warmth.
We remain tangled, pulses thrumming in time—with each other, and with every flicker of lightning above.
He sinks back against the step, exhaling hard, and turns me in his arms until I’m curled on his lap, facing the storm.
I’m completely spent. The storm we created took as much as it gave. Maybe more.
We watch it together—silent, breathless—as the cloud begins to fade, the air still crackling with electricity. My skin tingles with it. Every nerve sings. Even my blood feels different, thick and slow as it moves through my veins.
I look back and find his eyes already on mine—wide, dark, filled with awe. And something else. Something like fear.
He realizes as well as I do that we’ve just created something far beyond normal magick. Something older. Wilder.
This wasn’t just passion, or lust, or even love—
This was power.
Fusion.
And it was ours.