"It will change," Thorian says carefully. "The first part is usually the hardest. But as your body gets used to it, the feelings will become easier to handle."
He moves to his workbench, preparing what looks like a more complex version of our usual magical reading setup. When he turns back, there's something different in his expression—more focused, more intense.
"Today we'll try going deeper with the magical work," he explains. "It should help calm down what you're feeling."
"Deeper how?"
Instead of answering immediately, he approaches my chair and kneels beside it, bringing his face level with mine. This close,his scent wraps around me like a blanket—something woodsy and warm with undertones that make my mouth water.
"I'll need to touch you directly to guide the magic," he says, his voice softer than usual. "Skin contact helps the energy work better."
Physical touch. The words make that ache between my legs pulse stronger.
"Okay," I whisper, though I'm not sure what I'm agreeing to.
His hands frame my face, thumbs stroking across my cheekbones in a touch that's gentle but somehow possessive. "Just relax, little scientist. Let me take care of you."
The endearment makes my heart flutter. When he calls me that, I feel special. Treasured. Like I'm the only person in the world who matters.
"Close your eyes," he murmurs.
I obey, and immediately the world narrows to the feeling of his hands on my skin and the magical energy beginning to build between us. But this time, instead of the gentle flow I'm used to, power pulses through me in waves that match my heartbeat.
"Oh," I gasp as the magic sinks deeper into my nervous system. It feels like being touched everywhere at once, like invisible hands stroking every inch of my oversensitive skin.
"Breathe through it," Thorian's voice comes from somewhere above me. "Let the energy flow where it wants to go."
The magic pools low in my belly, building pressure that makes me squirm in the chair. This doesn't feel like the careful, clinical readings we've done before. This feels intimate. Personal. Like the energy is seeking out every secret place in my body and awakening responses I've never felt.
"Thorian," I whisper, not sure if I'm asking for help or just saying his name because I need to.
"I'm right here." His hands slide from my face to my shoulders, and even through the fabric of my dress, his touch burns. "You're doing beautifully, Maya. So responsive."
Responsive. The word makes something clench deep inside me. I want to be responsive for him. Want to be perfect, precious, everything he needs me to be.
The magical energy intensifies, and I arch involuntarily as sensation floods through me. It's like every nerve has been stripped bare and then flooded with warmth that's somehow pleasurable instead of painful. My breathing becomes shallow, and I can't stop the soft sound that escapes my lips.
"That's it," Thorian murmurs, his voice rougher now. "Don't fight it, Maya. Let yourself feel everything."
The way he says my name makes my heart race even faster. There's something possessive in his tone that should probably worry me, but instead it makes me want to lean into his touch, to give him whatever he's asking for.
"Please," I hear myself say, though I don't know what I'm asking for.
"Please what, sweetheart?"
Sweetheart. The endearment goes straight to that aching place between my legs, making me whimper with need I don't understand. When did his voice become so important? When did earning his approval become more necessary than breathing?
"I don't know," I admit helplessly, my hands gripping the arms of the chair. "I just... I need..."
His hands tighten on my shoulders, and I can feel the heat of his palms through my dress. "What do you need, Maya? Tell me."
"You." The word slips out before I can stop it, carrying more desperation than I intended. "I need you to... to fix this. Make it stop burning."
There's silence for a moment, and I wonder if I've said something wrong. Then his voice comes, rougher than before:
"Open your eyes."
I do, and find him staring at me with an intensity that makes my breath catch. His golden-green eyes are darker than usual, pupils dilated like he's as affected by this magical work as I am. There's something hungry in his expression that makes my stomach flutter with nervous excitement.
