Tamsin’s voice is muffled through the quilt. “Noted. No biting. Fire warning engaged.”
Under the covers, I smile. Just a little. Because, despite everything, I’m not alone, and I was alone for so long before I came here.
Combat Casting is buzzingwith the gossip of theVeilbindingbetween Raiden and me. The whispers make it sound like it doesn’t happen often anymore—that it’s reserved for extreme cases. Does that mean I’m an extreme case? A supposed human from the mortal world…that somehowcalled to the Veil?
I scoff under my breath. Right. Human girls don’t call to the Veil or light up with magic like a damn flare gun.
Whatever I am, it’s not human.
None of that seems possible.
I settle into one of the back rows around the training circles. Professor River enters, sealing the door with a flick of his hand. His voice carries as he moves. “Pair up. Today we are testing control.”
I press my lips together, leaning back against the stone wall.Thatdoesn’t sound like a good time. Across the room, Raiden sheds his shirt and shoes. And, of course, I notice. I’ve been hyper-aware of him since stepping in the room. Hell, before stepping into the room even. I see every flex of his tanned muscles, and my mouth waters. The spot where he bit me is just a faint bruise today, no longer throbbing, but other parts of mearewhen I think about it. Stupid brain, sexualizing aprimal behavior that, according to him, meant nothing. And him stripping in the middle of class...reallynot helping.
“Miss Blake, pair with Mr. Tsukino,” Professor River orders, jolting me out of my not-so-innocent thoughts.
Raiden lifts his head, meeting my gaze, and I know he probably heard every mental fantasy that just ran through my head. Because, of course, he did, because we are fucking linked together now I need to keep that in mind.
I refuse to be embarrassed. I am human, after all. It’s been a while, besides that disastrous date a few weeks before I was brought here... It was dry season in that shitty little town.
I stand, crossing the space when he doesn’t move an inch.
“Shoes and cloak off,” he says when I stop in front of him.
I roll my eyes, kicking off my shoes and peeling off my socks before shrugging off the cloak. I know how to deal with assholes. Hell, I can be one if needed. After my bare feet hit the cold floor, I cross my arms.
“Now what?”
“You need to learn control,” he says, like it’s obvious this lesson is made for me.
“Says the Fang who bit me yesterday.”
He sucks in a breath, and I feel the bond tighten around us as his gaze drops to my collarbone. A phantom throb answers his attention, but I push it away, rolling my shoulders.
“So help a girl out—what am I supposed to do now?”
He shakes his head like he’s clearing it, then holds out his hand, palm up. “Take my hand.”
My stomach flips. Butterflies batter at my insides, trying to escape. Yeah, I want to escape this too. I swallow and eye his hand, slightly shifting on my feet. Last time we had skin-to-skin contact...we both almost lost all control. So, touching him again doesn’t seem like a great idea.
“Lindsay, take my hand.”
My mark flares bright as our hands touch—white and purple, while his tattoos swirl with a reddish magic. A shiver runs down my spine, goosebumps rising on my arms. My entire body feels like it’s been struck by lightning. A gasp parts my lips, and I try to pull my hand away, but his fingers tighten around mine.
“Breathe through it. You’re in control, not the magic,” he whispers.
It’s like a cyclone, whipping up my emotions and merging them with his. He’s calm, steady—a rock in the storm raging inside me. I step toward him, seeking the shelter he represents.
He wraps his free arm around me, tugging me even closer. And the second his chest presses against mine, something inside me stills. I can feel the threads of magic between us. Hell, I can see them, like physical things. The rest of the room fades into the background as I mentally reach for a glowing pink string between us. When I touch it, a song bursts from it, a confession from my soul.
All of the loneliness I’ve carried since my gran died rushes through me, crashing against Raiden’s control. My fingers tighten against his, and my free hand curls over his shoulder, right above a tattoo of a fox. Tears blur my vision, but I blink them away. They fall uselessly down my cheeks.
He snakes his hand up to my face, brushing them away with the pad of his thumb. “I’ve got you,” he promises. “You’re safe.”
Another thread of magic burns bright, golden and as warm as the sun. Pure comfort. I reach for it, my fingers tracing its edges. Raiden tenses, holding his breath. I can feel it too, the sensation of tugging and tightening. The thread flows between us, chest to chest, heart to heart.
“The tether,” he says tightly.
