Jade
“You knew every single detail.” I study Logan’s face, noting the deeper shadows under his eyes and the gray tinge to his skin. “Every move the Harpy would make. Exactly where the rose would be. How?”
“Maybe you’re exceptionally good at following instructions.” He tries for lightness, but it falls flat.
“Don’t deflect.” The shivers are subsiding, replaced by frustration. “I trusted you completely down there. Every insane instruction. And it saved my life. But—”
He cuts me off by kissing me, desperate and hungry, like he’s been drowning and I’m air, like he’s starving and I’m the only thing that can save him.
My hands forget about demanding answers, because all that exists is this—him, us, and the heat between us that has nothing to do with warming me up. It’s chaos, it’s surrender, it’s every fantasy I’ve had of him igniting at once.
He kisses me like he thought he’d lost me in those three seconds, like he’s still making sure I’m real and here and alive. His mouth moves against mine with bruising intensity, and when his tongue slides past my lips, I can’t stop the soft moan that escapes my throat.
The sound unleashes something primal in him, because his hands are sliding from my hair to my waist, pulling me flush against him until I can feel every hard line of his body. The evidence of his desire presses hot and insistent against my hip, and I arch into him, gasping at the contact.
“Jade.” My name falls from his lips like a prayer, rough and desperate, but I pull his mouth back to mine, kissing him with all the pent-up desire that’s been building between us for weeks.
When his hands slide lower, gripping my thighs and lifting me until I’m perched on the edge of the altar, I wrap my legs around his waist and pull him closer, even though it isn’t anywhere near to being close enough.
He fits perfectly between my thighs, and when he rocks against me, the friction makes stars explode behind my eyelids. I gasp, clutching his shoulders, as sparks arc off my fingertips and scatter across the altar stone.
I try to pull the electricity back, but it’s already crackling across the stone in wild patterns.
“Don’t fight it,” he murmurs against my neck. “Let it flow through you, not from you.”
“That doesn’t even make sense—“ The protest dies on my lips as his mouth finds that spot below my ear, and suddenly the electricity isn’t escaping anymore.
It’s flowing down through my body like he’s become my ground, channeling the storm inside me into something else entirely.
Something that makes me feel powerful instead of out of control.
“How are you doing that?” I gasp, my fingers tangling in his hair.
“Don’t question it,” he says against my throat, and there’s something in his voice that makes my heart race even faster. “Just enjoy it.”
His mouth trails fire down my neck, his tongue pressing against collarbone in a way that makes more electricity dance beneath my skin. Then he lifts his head, gray eyes nearly black with desire, pupils blown so wide they’ve swallowed the storm.
For a heartbeat that stretches like eternity, I think he’s going to stop. That he’ll pull away with some noble excuse about propriety, timing, or all the reasons we shouldn’t.
So, I take matters into my own hands, hooking my leg around his waist and drawing him against me until I can feel every inch of how much he wants this.
“You’re going to be the death of me,” he murmurs against my throat, but his hands are already moving, one sliding up my ribs while the other grips my hip.
My fingers tangle in his hair, holding him against me as pleasure spirals outward from every point where our skin meets.
I want to burn with him until nothing exists but fire and electricity and this.
But just as his hand moves to the button of my jeans, his body goes rigid, every muscle locking like he’s been struck by lightning.
“Logan?” I move back slightly, confusion cutting through the haze of desire.
But just as suddenly as he stopped, he’s sliding to his knees between my legs, strong hands spreading them wider as he pulls me to the edge of the altar. His thumbs hook in the waistband of my jeans, and he looks up at me through dark lashes, question swirling in his eyes.
“Yes,” I breathe, lifting my hips to help as he tugs the denim down my legs. The scrape of the fabric leaves my skin hypersensitive, every nerve lit like a live wire.
I want this. I need this.
His mouth finds the skin of my inner thigh, and I nearly fall off the altar.
He chuckles against my skin, the vibration making me gasp. “So responsive,” he murmurs, sounding pleased. “I’ve wondered how you’d react to this. If you’d be as wild and beautiful falling apart for me as you are with everything else.”
“Logan, please—” I’m not above begging at this point, my hands gripping the edge of the altar so hard my knuckles turn white.
“Patience,” he says, but I can hear the strain in his voice, the effort it’s taking him to go slow.
By the time he finally reaches where I need him most, I’m a trembling, desperate mess.
He groans against me like the magic itself is feeding him, his mouth moving with devastating precision. One hand pins my hips down when I try to writhe away from the overwhelming sensation, while the other slips under my thigh, holding me open, commanding me to take everything he’s giving.
When release finally crashes over me, it’s with the force of a tidal wave, washing away everything but sensation and the knowledge that I’m alive, I’m here, and I’m grounded by his touch.
He’s been grounding me all night, but this…
it’s exactly what I needed after the four trials from hell.
Confirmation that what we went through in here brought us closer and changed everything between us, and that everything he said in his office about trying to resist our connection no longer applies.
Only when the aftershocks fade do I realize he’s moved away, helping me straighten my clothes with slightly shaky hands.
“Better?” he asks, and there’s something vulnerable in the question that makes my heart clench.
“Getting there.” I slide off the altar on unsteady legs, my gaze drifting to the bulge in his jeans that’s grown even larger than before. The sight alone makes my pulse trip, because I want to see him lose control the way he just made me.
My fingers trace a path up his thigh, feeling the muscle tense beneath my touch. “What about you?”
His hand catches mine, war waging in his eyes. “Not here.”
“Turnabout is fair play.” I step closer, and when my palm cups him through his jeans, his sharp inhale makes electricity buzz beneath my fingertips.
But instead of moving against me, he steps back, the space between us speaking louder than words could ever say. “We need to check your sigil.”
The subject change stings. But the way he’s looking at me, like I’m something precious he’s afraid to break, keeps me from pushing.
“Right.” I hold out my hand, trying to ignore how my body still thrums with awareness of him. “The trials. The passages. I passed, right?”
He takes my hand carefully, like he’s handling glass, his thumb tracing the flame patterns on my palm.
“It looks normal,” I say, mostly to fill the charged silence.
“It’s supposed to.” His thumb keeps tracing patterns, and I have to bite my lip to keep from making a sound. “The magic is subtle. Hidden. We need to test it.”
He doesn’t let go of my hand immediately, his fingers sliding against mine as he leads me to another door in the chamber—one I didn’t notice before.
“This door leads into the tunnels. Place your palm flat against the stone,” he instructs, moving behind me again. “Push your magic into it. Not fire. Just... intent.”
I press my hand to the cold stone, hyperaware of every place our bodies touch. When I reach for my magic and push my intent through the sigil, the stone ripples like water, and suddenly there’s an opening where solid rock used to be.
“It worked.” I stare at the impossible doorway in wonder.
“Did you doubt me?” His voice is right by my ear, sending those damn shivers down my spine all over again.
“Never.” I turn to face him. We’re so close I can see the way his pulse hammers in his throat, can feel the heat radiating from his body.
The passage beyond beckons, but neither of us moves.
“Come on,” he says finally, his voice tight with the effort of pulling away. “Let me show you how to get to Phoenix Hall.”
“Fine.” I pout, and he enters the passage, leading the way.
We walk through narrow tunnels lit by fiery torches, but the silence isn’t comfortable anymore.
It’s thick with unspoken words and unanswered questions.
Every accidental brush of our hands sends sparks through me—literal and figurative—and I can tell from the way his jaw clenches that he feels it, too.
“Tomorrow night,” he says when we stop in front of a door marked with a phoenix symbol. Then he turns to face me, and the resignation in his expression makes my stomach drop. “But what happened back there can’t happen again.”
“Seriously?” Anger mixed with pain rushes through me, the word coming out sharper than intended. “You’re giving me the whole ‘this was a mistake’ speech again?”
“It wasn’t a mistake,” he says fiercely.
“But when I’m with you, I forget everything else.
My responsibilities, my plans, and my reasons for keeping everyone at a distance.
” He touches my face gently and lets his walls down slightly, like when he let me feel his parents’ rings back in the Drowned Tower.
“You make me feel human, Jade. But humans make mistakes. They let emotions cloud judgement. And there’s far too much on the line to take that risk. ”
“But back there, our connection saved me. I wouldn’t have passed the trials without it. Without you.” I search his eyes, needing more than his cryptic statements about risk.
“I did everything possible to guide you through the trials,” he agrees. “But after that…” His pupils dilate, as if the thought of the altar is making him crave a repeat performance. “We were exposed. Vulnerable. Too wrapped up in each other to be aware of the world around us.”
“What if I like being wrapped up in each other?” My breaths are coming quicker now, anxiety rushing through my veins at the realization that he’s actually doing this.
He’s ending this right after we started it again.
He gave me hope, then snatched it away before it had a chance to settle in my heart.
Part of me hates him for it.
Another part knows that after everything he saw and did for me during the trials, I’ll never hate him. I’d never want to hate him. It might even be impossible for me to hate him.
But that doesn’t make what he’s doing to me emotionally right now hurt any less.
He watches me like he’s trying to figure out what he wants, and then, his expression hardens.
“What you like in the moment doesn’t matter.
Because what I like is keeping you alive, and I’m going to keep you that way,” he declares, the words final.
“Meet me here at ten pm tomorrow. We’ll train, we’ll work on your control, and we’ll keep you safe.
Nothing more.” He steps back, the walls slamming back into place behind his eyes, the topic closed.
I shake my head, dizzy with the whiplash of it all.
How can he so easily go from wanting me to pushing me away? It’s like he can switch a flip in his brain, and it makes me feel… unwanted? Used? Rejected? Disposable? I’m not sure. I wish I knew, but I just… don’t.
“What do I tell Evie?” I finally ask, trying to flip my switch as easily as he flipped his. Which is impossible, since I don’t have an emotional switch. Just a bursting heart and a mind that never shuts up. “She’ll notice me sneaking out.”
“I’ll handle Evie. Just meet me here at ten,” he says, and before I can ask how exactly he plans to handle my roommate, he’s walking away, leaving me standing there with my heart in pieces and my body still humming from his touch.
I lift my hand to touch the stone, my sigil melting away the door and leading me into a storage closet in the back of Phoenix Hall.
Ten pm tomorrow.
I don’t know whether to dread it, or to count down the seconds.