“Try again,” Kael says, like none of it rattled him. “This time, Raiden? Match her pulse. Use the tether. No control. Just connection.”
Raiden’s hand rises—hesitant—before lifting my shirt and settling just under my ribs.
I gasp. Magic erupts like a second heartbeat.
Kael doesn't move or blink. “Now defend yourself.”
He strikes. Fast.
And Raiden moves with me.
Together. Our hands lift. Magic slams outward in a spiraling shield, raw and wild but intact.
The floor sigils ripple, glowing brighter. The shadows Kael flung at us dissolve in a rush of wind and power. I’m panting. Sweat slicks my spine. But we did it. We stopped him.
Raiden drops his hand from my stomach and steps away, his gaze trained on my face. I can feel him trail his attention over me, pausing at the cut on my cheek from last night that has gained a wicked bruise to go with it.
“I’m fine,” I inform him before I turn to face Kael. “How was that?”
Kael’s lips twitch. Not a smile. Something darker.
“Better,” he says. “But not enough.”
I barely have time to catch my breath before Kael moves again, this time, slower. His steps are measured. Intentional.
“Your stance is off,” he says, circling behind me again. “Too rigid. You’ll crack if something hits you dead-on.”
Before I can respond, his hand is on my waist. Then the other—guiding me, tilting my hips, adjusting the angle of my shoulders with careful pressure that sends every nerve ending into overdrive. I forget how to breathe.
“You need to root here,” he says, his fingers pressing lightly into the curve of my lower back. “Let the magic settle. Letyousettle.”
His proximity is dangerous. Not because I don’t trust him. But because part of me does.
Too much.
Raiden watches us, jaw tight, arms crossed again, but he doesn’t interfere. Doesn’t stop Kael in his instruction. The air crackles around us, full of what I can only call sexual tension, even though there is absolutely nothing sexual about the way he’s touching me.
Kael leans in, his mouth close to my ear. “Now lift your right arm.”
A shiver skates down my spine, but I do.
His hand glides down my forearm to adjust my wrist—bare skin to bare skin—and I swear I feel his magic slide beneath mine, threading like silk through flame. If I have a soul, I’d swear he just touched it.
“Again,” he says, stepping back and around me. “Raiden, match her pulse.”
We move in unison. Raiden’s hand presses against my stomach again, steadier now. Kael sends another strike—faster and harder this time—but I react.
We react. The shield snaps up between us, holding firm.
Kael smiles, slow and knowing. “There she is. I knew you were in there.”
We repeat the lesson three more times, until I’m damp with sweat and weak in the knees. And then it’s over, the whole hour flew by. The sigils on the floor fade. The tension lingers, but the lesson’s done. I’m shaking—sweat-damp and breathless, butseen—in a way that has nothing to do with combat. At least it feels like he saw me. The real me. The one that isn’t powerless.
Kael slips on his boots and strides to the door, pausing only long enough to throw over his shoulder, “She’s not ready to fight alone. You know that, so don’t push her away.”
Then he’s gone.
Raiden doesn’t speak right away. Just watches the door like he wants to punch it off its hinges. Then he looks at me.
