Chapter Forty - Seven #2
"Now," he says, stepping forward until we're standing close enough that our body heat mingles in the space between us, "we begin."
He reaches out, placing his palm flat against my sternum, directly over my heart. His touch is warm, firm, sending tendrils of awareness radiating outward through my body.
"Close your eyes," he instructs. "Feel my energy. My power."
I comply, senses immediately heightening in the darkness behind my eyelids.
His hand on my skin becomes the center of my awareness, the point where his power flows into me.
It feels different from Elias's studied precision or Asher's playful energy—heavier, deeper, ancient in a way I can't quite articulate.
"Power begins here," he says, pressing slightly harder against my sternum. "Not in the mind, not in technique, but in the core of your being. In the place where you exist most purely."
I feel it then—a pulse of magic from his hand, traveling inward, seeking something buried deep inside me. My own power responds instinctively, rising to meet his, golden light emerging from beneath my skin to twine with his darker energy.
"Good," he murmurs, his voice closer now, breath warm against my face. "Don't direct it. Don't control it. Just let it rise naturally."
The sensation intensifies as our powers mingle, creating a circuit between us that strengthens with each heartbeat. Unlike the gentle exploration with Elias or the playful exchange with Asher, this feels primal, elemental—magic in its purest form, raw and untamed.
"Now," he says, his other hand coming up to curl around the back of my neck, "reach deeper. Below conscious thought. Below intention. Find the place where your power exists without form, without purpose."
I try to follow his guidance, mentally descending through layers of awareness, seeking that core he describes. It's difficult—my instincts keep trying to shape the magic, to direct it as I've been taught.
"You're still trying to control it," he observes, his grip on my neck tightening slightly. "Let go, Sage. Completely."
"I don't know how," I admit, frustrated.
His thumb strokes along my jaw, the gesture unexpectedly gentle. "Yes, you do. You've done it before, in moments of extreme emotion. When you felt threatened. When you were pushed beyond your limits."
Images flash through my mind—flipping the dining table, throwing Malachi backward with a surge of uncontrolled power, the explosive release during my bindings with Elias and Asher.
"Those moments were accidents," I argue, eyes still closed. "I didn't know what I was doing."
"Exactly," he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice. "That's precisely what I want you to recapture. That unconscious clarity. That instinctive release."
His hand slides from my sternum to my waist, drawing me closer until our bodies are nearly touching. The heat between us intensifies, both magical and physical, creating a tension that makes my skin hyper-sensitive.
"Perhaps," he murmurs, his lips brushing my temple, "you need the right motivation."
Without warning, he releases a surge of power directly into me—not gentle or controlled, but raw and overwhelming. I gasp, eyes flying open as the magical energy courses through me, too intense to process all at once.
"Push back," he commands, flooding me with another wave of power. "Don't think. React."
Instinctively, my magic rises to meet his, golden light exploding outward from my skin. The force of it pushes him back a step, and something like satisfaction flashes in his eyes.
"Again," he demands, unleashing another surge, stronger this time.
I respond without conscious thought, my power erupting to counter his, the collision creating a shockwave that rattles the windows and sends the candle flames dancing wildly.
"More," he urges, stepping closer again, one hand gripping my waist, the other tangling in my hair. "Deeper, Sage. Find the source."
His proximity is overwhelming—the heat of his skin, the intensity of his gaze, the raw power flowing between us. With each exchange, I feel something inside me opening, unfurling, a wellspring of magic I've only touched the surface of before.
"There," he says, voice rough with satisfaction as a particularly strong surge emanates from me. "That's it. Don't shape it. Don't direct it. Just release it."
The magic builds between us, gold and obsidian intertwining, creating patterns of light that swirl around our bodies like living art. Each pulse grows stronger than the last, the ritual circle beneath our feet glowing brighter in response.
Malachi's grip tightens, pulling me fully against him, our bodies pressing together skin to skin. The contact sends a shock of awareness through me—not just magical but intensely physical, every nerve ending suddenly alive and responsive.
"This is power, Sage," he growls, his mouth now at my throat, breath hot against my skin. "Raw. Primal. Dangerous."
His lips brush my pulse point, and my magic responds with a surge that makes the entire room vibrate. I clutch at his shoulders, suddenly needing an anchor as the power threatens to overwhelm me.
"Don't fight it," he murmurs against my skin. "Surrender to it. Let it consume you."
My head falls back as another wave crashes through me, stronger than anything I've experienced before. It's terrifying and exhilarating, this loss of control, this pure expression of magic without technique or restraint.
Malachi's hands slide down my back, pulling me more firmly against him, and I can feel the evidence of his arousal pressing against me.
The realization that this affects him too—that power and desire are as intertwined for him as they are becoming for me—sends another surge of magic rippling outward.
"Yes," he hisses, his control slipping just slightly, revealing the hunger beneath. "That's it. Feel everything. Hold nothing back."
The ritual circle beneath us pulses in time with our exchange, the silver lines now so bright they're almost blinding. The air in the room grows heavy, charged with magical energy so dense it's nearly visible, swirling around us in currents of gold and black.
"Malachi," I gasp, overwhelmed by the sensations, magical and physical, cascading through me. "It's too much?—"
"It's not," he counters, one hand sliding to grip my hip, fingers digging into my flesh just shy of painful. "You can take more. You will take more."
His certainty is hypnotic, his belief in my capacity unwavering. I surrender to it, letting the magic flow through me without resistance, feeling it build to levels that should be impossible to contain.
When the wave finally crests, it's like nothing I've experienced before—a pure release of power that radiates outward in all directions, lifting us momentarily from the floor, suspending us in a cocoon of intertwined energy.
For an instant, I see Malachi's control shatter completely—his eyes wide with something like wonder, lips parted on a harsh breath, expression transformed by naked desire and something deeper, more vulnerable.
The energy dissipates and we're lowered back to the ground. Malachi separates himself from me and I feel the loss instantly. "Get dressed," he says and I'm momentarily taken aback.
"Did I do something wrong?"
His clothing materializes around him and he frowns at me. "No," but that's all the answer he gives to me.