Wandfasted

by Laurie Forest

  Tears sting my eyes as I curl my fingers around it.

  He’s bucked some serious rules to secure this for me, likely having it crafted for himself. Only to break the law and gift it to me.

  I’m overcome, my voice breaking. “Thank you, Vale.”

  The heat of his gaze is penetrating and searing, so singular in focus. “You are welcome, Tessla.” A hint of a smile plays on his lips as he watches me. His expression turns ardent, almost pained. “Gods, you’re beautiful.”

  Emboldened, I move closer to him, basking in the warmth of his affinity fire, breathing him in, while I consider the wand in my hand. I test the feel of it, my affinity lines snapping toward it with taut, satisfying force. I can sense the perfect craftsmanship of this wand, the layers of wood thinner than the thinnest parchment, perfectly laminated. And I can sense the quality of the wood as well—Star Maple, Frosted Hawthorne and Ironwood. Fine woods chosen to smoothly amplify magic.

  “I saw the affinity patterns you were working out,” I tell him. “Back at your cottage.”

  “Our cottage,” he throatily amends, the deep thrum of his voice playing havoc with my heartbeat. “It’s your house, too, Tessla.”

  I swallow, thrown by the nearness of him, disconcertedly heated up. “You’re trying to work from the Waltherian Grimoire.”

  “Water spells,” he concurs. “I’ve a trace of water affinity, like you. Not much, but still. I’m trying to utilize it. I just can’t seem to access the water.”

  “Hook the roots,” I tell him. “There’s a natural attraction.”

  “Hook them?”

  “Slow the stream down,” I explain, pulling my hand down in a gradual arc. “So slow you can almost see it pulse.” I mimic a slow rhythm with my fingers. “There’s a hook in each crest. If you layer the streaming spell over the vine spell, you can latch right on to it and pull the water through.”

  He cocks his head to one side, and I can see him puzzling it out.

  “I’ll show you. Take your wand and roll up your sleeve,” I tell him, heat rising in my cheeks.

  He blinks at me, eyes searing, then complies. He pulls his wand from its sheath and rolls his tunic sleeve up to expose his muscular arm. He raises his arm, ready to cast the spells, and looks to me.

  Swallowing hard, I roll up my own sleeve, skim my hand down his arm and slide it over his fingers and around the wand. The entire length of my arm is pressed against his, skin to skin.

  “Tessla,” he breathes raggedly. “I don’t know if I can focus.”

  “Try. Trail the water spell over the vine spell.” I caress his hand. “Keep your fingers loose. Very light.” His hand relaxes under mine, his fire flowing toward me. “That’s good. All your fire’s flowing away from the wand. Toward me.”

  He spits out a laugh. “Yes, it is.”

  “Do it. Send both spells through.”

  Vale murmurs each spell in sequence, a thin black vine jetting out from the tip of the wand to collide with and twine around the tree before us. I push my magic down against his, line to line, helping him guide the two spells together. The black vine is quickly limned by a small line of glistening water. The vine breaks from the tip of Vale’s wand and falls just as the water collides with the tree and loses form. It streams down the trunk, seeping into the earth below.

  Vale turns to me, eyes wide. “Brilliant.” He looks back toward the tree in rapt amazement as I slide my arm off his. “Do you know how long I’ve been trying to figure that out?”

  I smirk at him, challenge in my gaze, as his fire gives a hard surge. “Not bad for a Lower River—”

  Vale pulls me firmly to him and brings his lips to mine, taking me completely by surprise. A shocked thrill flashes through me. His mouth is warm, his kiss startlingly intense, a wave of his fire flashing through me with breathtaking force. He reins it quickly in, his touch becoming more of a caress, his kiss turning slow and sultry. Then hesitant. He pulls back slightly to look at me, the Ironflower glow intensifying the brilliant green of his eyes, his breathing deepened.

  I can feel his fire rising, sense him trying to bank it down.

  My heart thudding, I lean in toward him, the side of his nose brushing against mine as we kiss again. He’s careful now. Unsure. But the feel of him is so delicious, a restless hunger flares deep inside me.

  His hands slide over my back, gradually pulling me closer, his mouth moving against mine as we drown in the surprising fire of this kiss. Small sparks ignite all over my lips, more sparks kindling wherever his hands touch my body. I caress the sharp line of his jaw and trace my fingers along his smooth skin. Vale’s breath hitches.

  He threads his long fingers through my hair as he pulls me against his hard body. I gasp into his mouth as a bolt of his fire flashes through me, lighting me up, stroking in long, sparking streaks down my affinity lines.

  An overpowering craving to touch him takes hold. I press my palm against his chest and splay my fingers out against his taut muscles. I can feel his heartbeat, steady and strong. His delicious warmth courses straight through me from his mouth right down to my very core as he loses more and more control over his fire.

  Both his hands are on my face now, his lips full on mine, kissing me deeply. His fire rushes through me, my affinity flame winding around his, blasting into him. I melt into his hot kiss and knot my fingers in his thick, luscious hair.

  He’s molten honey, his shuddering heat thick with forbidden pleasure.

  The sound of jovial conversation breaks into my awareness as a group of young Gardnerians comes near our private grove.

  Breathing hard, Vale breaks the kiss and looks toward them. They’re just past the trees, chatting and laughing together.

  “Let’s go back to the cottage.” His tone is thick with longing, the suggestion fraught with meaning, as if writ in flame and hanging in the air between us.

  The cottage. Where we’ll be alone. With all this fire.

  I look to the ground, at the two wands flung down at our feet. Momentarily forgotten.

  I step back from Vale, reach down and pick up our wands, handing him his. For a moment, I consider giving him mine to carry, as well.

  No. I’ll never be unarmed again.

  I brazenly pull up the side of my skirt and slide the wand into the top of my stocking. Vale’s fire flares in response.

  I let my skirts drop back down and glance up at Vale. He looks like he’s in a trance, his fire whipping out toward me in grasping, pulsating lines.

  My heart pounds and my nerves flutter, but I know I want this. I want him.

  “Yes. Let’s go back,” I say breathlessly.

  He pulls me close and rests his forehead gently against mine. “Tessla,” he says with passionate firmness, his gaze suddenly serious. “I... I’ve fallen in love with you.”

  I stare at him. Stunned. Thrilled. Disbelieving. I open my mouth to speak, my thoughts a tumult.

  “Stay fasted to me.” He takes hold of my hands, tracing the fastlines with his thumbs, sending a trail of sparks in their wake. “Even if we find a way to break this fasting.” His eyes are hot on mine. “Let’s not.”

  My heart takes flight, suddenly just as passionately decided as he is. “All right, Vale,” I tell him, lacing my fingers through his. “Let’s keep the lines.”

  Chapter 28: Alone

  Vale reverts to stiff formality as we walk out of the gardens toward the main thoroughfare. He’s quiet and subdued as he hires a carriage and tells the driver where to take us. The man immediately takes a submissive stance to this Level Five Mage before him, avoiding eye contact and nodding heartily in response to Vale’s every request.

  To the affinity-blinded masses, Vale’s as cold and severe as he first seemed to me. But I can read the fire absolutely blasting through him. Barely contained.
>
  I’m intimidated and giddily thrilled by it. Lit up.

  Hungry for more of him.

  Vale pulls himself into the carriage and shuts the door, both of us giving a small lurch forward as the driver sets off. He glances out the window, his pleasant, slightly dazed expression at full odds with the powerful fire that’s violently lashing around inside him, lashing out toward me.

  He turns and sets his eyes on me. Neither of us moves for a heartbeat, and the very air between us seems ready to catch fire.

  In an instant, we are locked together. My hand clutches at his hair, pulling his mouth hard against mine. His arm grasps my waist, his lips hot and insistent.

  He kisses me for a long time as the carriage drives away from the city, through farmland and forest, and I’m drowning in the taste of him, the heat growing, merging to flare even higher. His tongue caresses mine as we kiss deeply, our affinity barriers struck down, singed to oblivion.

  His fists bunch in my clothing as he pulls me furiously closer, like he can’t get enough of me, grasping at my skirts. Before long I’m straddling him, merged with the fire coursing through him, each lurch of the carriage pressing him deliriously harder against me. I can’t get enough of him, enough of his heat. I want to strip the clothes clear off him at get at his skin, his fire...

  The carriage stops, and we pull back, looking at each other in a flushed, chaotic daze. Our hair and clothing are hopelessly mussed, the windows fogged, my lips swollen and throbbing.

  “We’re here,” Vale says, his voice throaty. He’s panting and still clutching my hips, eyes blurred. “Gods, you’re flushed,” he says, looking at my face, the hollow of my neck. He shoots me a dark look, then smiles, teeth bared, as if he can’t believe his luck.

  Then he reluctantly pulls back, and I do the same, easing down skirts that have been pushed scandalously high. We’re both breathing heavily, my fire whipping out toward him in desperate, hungry strokes. I try to subdue it, but the flames are running far too hot.

  Vale sits back, neck arched, and stares at the carriage’s ceiling, his breathing gradually slowing. He licks his lips and shoots me a scorching glance, then looks back at the ceiling and runs a hand through his mussed hair, trying to gather himself.

  “Go on inside,” he says, looking me over with lascivious heat once more, his fire sliding through and then under my clothing. He smirks at me. “I have to pay the driver.”

  We grin at each other and exchange a heated, knowing glance.

  I lean over to slide my palm over his chest, to nuzzle his neck and kiss his hot cheek.

  He laughs throatily. “You are not helping, Tessla.”

  I smile wickedly at him, then exit the carriage, the exciting thrill of him sizzling through me, my whole body lit up with desire.

  As I step down from the carriage, the cold air coming off the Voltic Sea stings at my flushed skin. The waves lash turbulently at the rocks below, but an enticing lantern glow emanates from the inside of Vale’s cottage. I glance sidelong at the driver, who keeps his face neutral, but there’s a knowing glint of amusement in his eyes.

  * * *

  I wait in the kitchen, heart thudding, as Vale finally exits the carriage and pays the driver. The carriage drives off, and Vale strides toward the house like a powerful hawk, his cloak billowing like outspread wings. His eyes are dark with singular purpose.

  He enters the kitchen and stops, his fire lashing out.

  “We should go upstairs,” I say, breathless, my fire slamming into his, our heat impossibly stoked.

  “All right,” he says, predatory eyes fixed on me. He swallows and looks me over.

  My breathing uneven, I turn and go up the stairs, deliciously aware of his unsettling heat at my back.

  I step into the bedroom and turn.

  He’s on me in a flash, pulling me close, his mouth hot on mine. I clutch his tunic in my fists, feverishly pulling him in. He’s pressing me back against the bedpost with aggressive passion as I kiss him deeply, his fire rapidly flaring twice as high, his control fracturing.

  Mine long broken.

  He pulls back, breathing hard, his lip curled as he looks me up and down. He’s completely different from the reserved Vale I first met.

  His hunger startles and excites me. I want to prod at the danger of it. To provoke him. To tease and tempt him into losing all control.

  A wicked smile pulls at the corners of his mouth. “Tessla, I don’t know how I’m going to hold back.” His eyes fix on me hungrily. “If just your kiss sends me into this...frenzy. Just your mouth alone...” He stops and swallows, then glances at the bed. He turns back to me. “Gods, you’re so beautiful.” He threads his fingers through my hair and leans in to press his molten lips against the base of my neck.

  A blaze of fire rocks through me, pulsing. I tense my thighs against it, knowing it’s doing the same to him.

  “You’ve taken over my mind,” he tells me, his lips pressed to my throat. “All I want to do is touch you.”

  I caress the base of his neck. “Touch me, then.”

  He pulls slowly back, his eyes wide, then narrowing. He tilts his head in question, the words careful. “Do you mean...?”

  I’m dizzy with desire for him and giddy with nerves. We’re fasted and sealed. There’s nothing wrong with giving myself to him. I nod, decided.

  Vale presses his lips to mine again, hot and urgent, then draws back. “You’re sure?” he asks.

  “Yes,” I say. My face and neck are so warm they’re scorching. “You can share my bed tonight.” I wince at my own presumption. It’s his house. “I mean...your bed.”

  “Our bed,” he insists, looking dazed.

  “Our bed,” I agree, equally dazed, my breath ragged. “From now on. If you’d like.” I kiss his lips and send a rush of flame straight through his body. Vale groans and tightens his grip on me.

  There’s a hard knock at the door downstairs.

  Both of us blink, startled. As if a magic spell has been broken.

  Incredulous irritation flashes across Vale’s sharp face. “If ever there was an award for the worst timing in the world...”

  Another knock. Louder. More insistent.

  Vale takes a deep breath and rakes his hair back with his fingers, his eyes knife-sharp with desire. He looks me slowly up and down. “There’s no way I’ll be able to talk coherently to whoever is down there.” He shakes his head. “If it’s Edwin, I’m going to melt him. Or Fain. I think I have sufficient grounds to kill whoever it is.”

  I smirk at this, coloring, still not believing I’ve just invited a man to share my bed. I feel scandalous. Deliciously, overwhelmingly brazen.

  Vale walks to the door and hesitates, his hand on the door frame. He leans into it and closes his eyes.

  “What are you doing?” I ask.

  His tone is clipped. “Trying to use what little water magic I have to douse myself with ice water.”

  The knocking grows more insistent.

  Vale looks at me and his eyes flash. “Perhaps I’ll just ball up some lightning and send it straight through the door,” he says tersely, then goes downstairs.

  Chapter 29: The Selkie

  I hover near the bedroom door frame and peek around its corner as Vale stalks down the stairs and through the kitchen to open the door.

  Wind blows in from outside, sending the kitchen fire sputtering. Another storm seems to be quickly moving in, and I’m not surprised. Valgard is famously stormy in autumn, with choppy, dangerous seas.

  Vale holds fast to the door as the violent wind threatens his grip. His eyes light with surprise. “Beck?”

  “Hello, Vale.” The answering voice is deep and grim.

  Vale motions a young Gardnerian mariner inside, his black tunic, pants and woolen cloak all edged with
a line of seafarer blue. He’s as tall as Vale, but broad and muscular, a dark beard lining his square jaw.

  His expression seems deeply worried.

  “Were you...” Beck cocks his head in complete confusion as he takes in Vale’s face. “How on Erthia was someone able to punch you?”

  Vale shakes his head tersely. “It’s no matter. Why are you here?”

  Beck blinks at him in continued confusion, then grows somber once more. “I need your help, Vale.” His hands grips the back of the kitchen chair before him.

  Vale waits, brow raised in question.

  Beck stares at Vale, his jaw tensing, as if he’s fighting to hold Vale’s level stare. As if he doesn’t quite know how to phrase what he’s about to say. “I’ve a Selkie lover, Vale,” he finally blurts out. “She’s in danger. I need someone to take her in, just for a little while. And...we have a child.”

  A Selkie?

  I’ve heard tales of these seal-shifter women. Dangerous in their seal form—able to take down ships, kill sailors. But powerless without their silver skins.

  Vale’s eyes widen. “Did you say...a Selkie?”

  Beck’s jaw clenches tight as he holds Vale’s piercing stare.

  “Gods, Beck,” Vale says, his voice low and tense. “You’re fasted.” This catches me off guard—that Vale lights on this as the most shocking detail.

  “Yes, Vale,” Beck says, his words clipped. “I know I’m fasted.”

  I stare at Beck’s hands, at the heavy black lines that mark them and extend down his wrists. He’s fasted and sealed. And the sealing has been consummated.

  “I’ve never heard of a Selkie bearing a mixed-race child,” Vale says, clearly astonished.

  “Well, now you have.”

  Vale’s face turns dark. “And what of Margryt?”

  Beck’s face hardens. “Margryt and I were fasted when we were thirteen. I had no say in the matter, and neither did she. Both of us forced...”

  “That doesn’t change the fact that you already have a child with her.”

  “Yes, I know I have a child with Margryt,” Beck snaps. “And now I have another child, but his situation is far more complicated. And dangerous.”