But he said he would help me. And since my heat sensing has never once read Kieran Cross as emotionally cold—no matter how dangerous the rest of him might be—I believe him.
So, I shove my notes and the most helpful books into my bag and stand, giving Cordelia a small smile as I leave the library.
The hall, like the library, is empty. There are no heat signatures nearby, which means there’s no time like the present to do a bit of fire traveling.
Closing my eyes, I picture Kieran’s quarters.
The weapons rack on the far wall, every blade mounted with the same obsessive organization he brings to everything. The violin case tucked in the corner that he’s never once mentioned and I’ve never once asked about, even though my fingers itch to know what he sounds like when he plays. And the bed where I woke up in his arms, his furnace heat burning against my spine.
I shouldn’t want to go back there as badly as I do. But my magic latches onto the warmth of that memory with an eagerness that would embarrass me if I let myself think about it for too long, and the world dissolves into flames.
EVIE
Reality reforms,and I’m standing in the middle of Kieran’s room, which looks just as I remembered.
Now, warm, humid air fills the space, carrying the scent of soap. The bathroom door is open just a crack, and his heat signature hits my senses before I see him, running even hotter than usual. Steam curls through the gap in the door, and my scanning maps him automatically, the way it always does with Kieran.
Core temperature elevated, pulse steady, blood running close to the surface of his skin from the hot water.
Oh my gods.
I should leave. I should fire travel to my room before he walks out and finds me standing in his bedroom like a stalker with a thermal imaging problem.
Too late.
Kieran steps out of the bathroom wearing only a towel, water droplets tracing paths down his chest, and every hard line of muscle catches the low light like he was carved for exactly this kind of ambush.
My analytical brain has never failed me before, but right now it’s failing spectacularly, because the data points keep dissolving into sensation. My eyes are drifting lower, to the dual dagger tattoos on his hip bones. The ink is dark and precise, the blades pointing down to dangerous territory covered by the towel slung low around his hips.
Rows of tally marks cover his left side from below his pecs to the edge of the towel, all of them grouped in five until the final three.
My gaze snaps up to his face, and he raises one dark eyebrow, crossing his arms over his bare chest as if finding a student in his bedroom is a minor inconvenience instead of a major intrusion that could get me expelled.
“I was wondering when you’d show up.”
My brain short-circuits. “You were?”
“After what happened this morning, I assumed you’d come to me.”
This morning.
Jade’s face through the shimmering heat as my magic poured out of me like an open furnace in the Fury Loop, fueled by grief and rage until I couldn’t tell where my emotions ended and the fire began.
I took it too far.
The thought’s been circling my brain all day. I’ve been trying to outrun it with research, but standing here with Kieran watching me like he can see every ugly thing I’m hiding, I can’t run anymore.
“I didn’t come to talk about that,” I say, steadier than I expected. “I need your help with something else.”
“We’ll get to that in a bit.” He moves slowly to his wardrobe, apparently completely unconcerned about his state of undress. “First, we’re talking about what happened in my Circle.”
“There’s nothing to talk about. I lost control. It won’t happen again.”
He pulls out a shirt but doesn’t put it on.“Lostisn’t what I saw.”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that wasn’t a loss of control. It was precise, deadly power.” His eyes hold mine, sharp and intent. “You held your heat shield for over three minutes while channeling enough thermal energy to kill Jade Harrington.”
