Shit.
The fire magic that’s been awakening in me for weeks responds to the spike of emotion—relief that she’s here, terror from almost losing her, protective fury at whatever hurt her in that void. It all tangles together and feeds the flames until my skin feels like it’s burning from the inside out.
I should pull away. Should put distance between us before I burn her.
But she’s shaking—fine tremors I can feel through the hoodie—and I’ll be damned if I let fear make me abandon her when she needs me.
I focus on breathing. Deep, steady breaths that bank the fire instead of feeding it. I’ve been practicing this for weeks, learning to control the heat when emotions spike. Usually it works.
Usually I’m not holding the person who matters most in the world.
The temperature climbs anyway. I can feel it radiating through my shirt, warm enough that she has to notice. Any second now she’ll pull away, ask what’s wrong, and I’ll have to explain that I’m a walking fire hazard who can’t be trusted to—
Her mist curls around us both.
Silver light wraps around my arms, her waist, the space between us. And somehow—impossibly—it cools the worst of the heat. Not suppressing it exactly, but balancing it. Like the Ether recognizes the danger and steps in to protect us both.
Bree doesn’t pull away. If anything, she relaxes further into me, her breathing evening out for the first time since she returned.
I wrap my arms around her carefully, still monitoring the heat levels, still ready to retreat if the fire spikes again. But the Ether holds steady, that cool silver presence keeping the flames in check.
“Better?” I ask quietly.
She nods against my shoulder. “How did you know?”
“Know what?”
“That this was what I needed.”
I press my chin to the top of her head, breathing in the vanilla scent of her hair. “Because it’s what I need too.”
It’s more honesty than I usually offer, but she deserves it. After everything—the disappearance, the fear, the relief of having her back—she deserves truth.
We sit like that for a long time. Her breathing gradually slows and deepens, the tension leaving her body bit by bit. The Ether continues to swirl around us, and I notice the black threads weaving through it are less prominent now. Still there, but subdued.
Whatever happened wherever the Ether took them, whatever those dark streaks represent, they seem quieter when she feels safe.
When she starts to drift toward sleep, I don’t move. Don’t shift to a more comfortable position or suggest she’d be better off in her own bed. I just hold her, keeping watch like I always do.
Her hand curls in my shirt, holding on even in sleep, and something fierce and protective rises in my chest.
“I’ve got you,” I whisper, quiet enough not to wake her. “Always.”
The fire under my skin has settled to a warm glow, controlled and contained by her trust in me. By the Ether’s gentle intervention. By the simple fact that she chose me to keep her safe.
I stare at the ceiling, listening to her breathe, and make a silent vow.
I don’t care what the black threads mean. I don’t care what happened in that void or what darkness followed her back. She’s here, she’s safe, and I’ll burn the world down before I let her vanish again.
The heat pulses once—not with panic this time, but with certainty.
She’s mine to protect. And nothing—not fear, not fire, not whatever shadows are chasing her—is going to change that.
Chapter 17
Bree
I wake in the middle of the night, still wrapped in warmth—Rhett’s hoodie, his lingering scent, the phantom memory of his steady breathing beneath my cheek. The sanctuary is deep in shadow, that heavy quiet that settles over everything in the small hours when even the ancient stones seem to hold their breath.
