AYLETH

They kissed, and they kissed, and they kissed. And Ayleth burned.

The ember he’d lit in her belly the night before had been fed and banked by her mother. Now his kiss, his touch, fueled it into a roaring fire.

She had never in her life felt the things she was feeling—as if her whole skin were alight. As if she needed something from him, or she might actually perish. As if she could consume him and be satisfied—but face only desperate hunger until she did.

“Etan, what is happening to me?” she pleaded when he opened his mouth against her neck and she groaned—groaned!

“I told you,” he rasped. “You want what men and women who love each other want. Need. Yearn for.” His breath was hot on her skin, his fingers trembling when he raised his hands to her face, her hair.

She’d been searching his body, stroking, grasping, all over him. But it wasn’t enough. She needed his skin.

He still had her against the door, her head thrown back and arched back over it. Her mouth fell open when he ground his hips into her and she made a noise that should have embarrassed her. But she couldn’t find the dignity.

“Do that again!” she pleaded.

“Oh, Light, Ayleth… I shouldn’t… I can’t…” he took her mouth again, desperate, his breath tearing in and out of his throat, but he did as she asked, pressing himself against her and rolling in a way that lit fireworks at the apex of her thighs that exploded through her entire body. She couldn’t breathe for wanting something, but knew, somehow, this was what her mother had spoken about.

This was the fire her mother had spelled her to light.

And that was when Ayleth froze.

As soon as she did, Etan went still, his breath still heaving in and out of his open mouth, but he stopped kissing her and pulled away far enough to meet her gaze.

She’d messed his hair, clawing at him, and it fell over his eyes as he stared down at her, searching her gaze for whatever it was that had made her go still. “What is it?” he whispered between panting breaths. “Did you hear something?”

“No… I just…” Ayleth’s breath was quick and heaving too, but she swallowed and shook her head. No, that couldn’t be it. Could it? Her mother hadn’t touched her until today.

She stared into Etan’s eyes then, frowning. “Etan, until yesterday, had you ever… felt the things we felt? The connection? The sense of another?”

“Never,” he breathed and stroked her face. “Had you?”

She shook her head. “And I pray I never will. I… somehow, impossibly, I love you!” she said, her voice too high.

Etan’s smile bloomed and his eyes lit with a new fire. “I love you, too, Ayleth. You own me. Don’t fear it. We’re both here.”

He leaned down to kiss her again, but she stopped him. “My mother did… something today and it has… affected me.”

He jerked back, wariness and anger in his eyes. “What did she do to you?”

“I think she cast a spell on me.”

“What?!”

“She meant well. She thought… because of the way I spoke about the men, she thought I was afraid of… of this, I think. She wanted me to find my… satisfaction with my husband. This Quickening. So, she… I don’t know, she did something. I couldn’t wrest my hand from her grip, and by the time she was done, there was this… fire inside me.”

Etan blinked and took a deep breath. “Had you felt the fire before?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“When I touched you—or you touched me. But then it was… calm. Mostly. Wonderful, and exciting, but… controllable.” She swallowed again. “Now it feels… as if I am unhinged. As if at any moment, I might do something I should not do—but I want to!” She was scandalized, terrified he would think little of her if she couldn’t control herself. But half-hopeful he might go along with her because she so desperately wanted to discover whatever it was that would douse this fire.

Etan seemed to struggle, a dozen different emotions chasing each other across his face, as if he couldn’t decide which to feel.

Then he laughed.