Two Years Ago: Magic

‘I don’t know you,’ I force myself to say it aloud. I should be putting up barriers, and making space between us, but I don’t want to. I’m fascinated by the man before me. The slight curl at the tips of his dark hair. As though he’s been pushing his fingers through it, exasperated.

‘I don’t know you either,’ he admits. He’s looking down, running his warm hands over the curves of one leg. Holding my leg gently between his fingers as his fingers smooth over my skin. I’ve never paid much attention to my legs before. But when he circles my ankle with his thumb, I’m holding back a moan. I’m so wet between my thighs, aching and eager to be touched. But afraid of what comes next and the whole world outside the door. ‘So let’s talk,’ he suggests, watching as his hands slid over my flesh again.

I pant a breath and curl my hands around the arms of the chair, gripping it. I should tell him to stop, but I’m captivated by the sheen of firelight on his body. It’s touched with something like magic, the same pale blue that I saw before in the lightning flicker. Was it magic? Is it still there in his skin?

‘Are you magic?’ I blurted out the first question that fell into my head and confirmed to myself, once again, that I am an idiot. I swallow, ‘I mean - do you cast spells?’ It’s not exactly rude to ask if someone’s a spell caster, but they tend to announce themselves or wear symbols of their power. But with Thade half-naked, I can’t see any talismans, other than a simple wooden ring on his right hand.

He paused, ‘which question do you want me to ask?’ he murmurs, voice thick with desire as he glances up at me once more. His hands kneaded the tired muscles of my left leg, before moving to the right.

‘The second,’ I flush, trying to rub away the embarrassment from my cheeks onto my shoulder. Trying desperately not to wonder what it would be like if his hands did venture further up my legs and beneath the blankets I’m wrapped in. His shadow stretches out from the fireplace, across the bare wooden floor.

‘I’m not a spell caster,’ he nods slowly and studies my face, ‘are you?’

I swallow then, I should have known he’d want to trade questions. I chew on my bottom lip, turning my answer over carefully. He’s a Knight of Illure. Chances are, I might end up working with him some time. My body clenches as his fingers venture to my left knee.

‘You’re very distracting,’ I accuse in a whisper that travels through the warm air between us and he smiles in response. Looking like something from the Otherworld, with the fire light flickering red and orange on his bronzed skin.

‘I am to please,’ he teases back and my breath catches in my chest; burning. He asked me a question.

‘I don’t cast spells,’ it’s a struggle to think, to find any words, ‘but I…I see magic,’ I explain and tense, waiting for him to stare at me and back away. It’s not a normal gift. But he doesn’t so much as blink, his hands moving steadily over my skin without pause.

‘I’ve never heard of that before,’ he admits and glances at me.

‘It’s why I’m here,’ I admit, trying to summon a smile. What if I’ve ruined this already? What if he thinks I’m far too weird and should be shut away in Castle Nix. It’s what most other people think when they find out. ‘I’m here to help the Lord Provost,’ I rush to explain. I want Thade to see my worth.

‘You’ve helped him before?’

I nod quickly, eager, ‘a few times, when there’s a death or a puzzle or a…’ I grip the chair more tightly as his fingers dance against the inside of my knee and my body pulses with desire. I exhale, feeling as though the room is spinning around me.

‘You said them both in the same breath,’ he tilts his head to one side again, ‘a death and a puzzle?’

‘I like…’ I swallow, ‘I enjoy puzzles…I don’t like death.’

‘And yet?’

‘My…ability helps the Provost solve both,’ my voice catches as his left hand covers the top of my thigh above my knee. The skin scorched by his touch. His expression is distant for a moment and at war with the passion that’s threatening to consume me entirely, I feel panic. I’m tense, shoulders tight. Chin lifted as I prepare for his rejection.

‘I like you, Lana,’ he says it like an admission, ‘but that seems dangerous for us both.’

There’s a lump in my throat, and I can’t swallow it. Only stare at the man before me as holds both knees. His touch far more intimate than anything I have ever imagined, alone at night in my boudoir. We’re staring at each other again, caught in the same breathless moment with the only the crackle of the fireplace to break the silence. I can feel the warmth of the flames washing over me, but they’re nothing in comparison to the heat within my body.

‘What are you thinking?’ He moves onto his knees and I blink, struggling to form thoughts, let alone words.

‘I want you to kiss me again.’