Soul of Flame (Imdalind Series #4)(18)

“You will be,” Ilyan said, his focus still on the bright lightning strikes that covered the sky. “I have seen it.”

“I am beginning to doubt if the sights are true at all, if I want them to be.”

“I am not talking about the sight, mi lasko. I am talking about you,” Ilyan said as he turned to face me, his body towering over me.

I looked up to him in confusion as he slid down onto the stone floor of the balcony, his back pressing into the stone pillars. He leaned forward and placed his hand on my face, the warm current of his magic flowing into me at the touch. His skin was soft as his eyes poured into me, giving me no other place to look, no other place I wanted to look.

“I have seen your strength when you protected me in the snowstorm, when you stood up to Cail in every nightmare, and when you fought Ryland in Santa Fe. I have seen it. I know how strong you are, how confident you are. You are the Siln?, and you will be ready.”

“I don’t feel like the Siln?. To me it is still just a nickname,” I confessed, my voice little more than a whisper.

“You will,” Ilyan promised, his magic slowly leaving until all I felt was that heavy relaxation the bath had given me.

“Well, maybe I will if you keep drugging me like this.” I sighed as I refilled my mug with the warm amber fluid. The sweet honey smell of the Black Water mixed nicely with the fragrance already surrounding me.

“I did no such thing.” Ilyan laughed as his hand dropped from my face. “I only cleared your mind.”

Well, it worked.

“I am glad.” Ilyan smiled at me from where he sat, his short hair glistening with water. He leaned against the banister, one arm draped over his lifted knee as he studied me, giving me an open shot of his bare torso.

I looked away, not really wanting to be caught staring at his chest again. Sometimes I wished he would just put on a shirt. It wasn’t like he looked terrible or anything. His figure was almost perfect; it was just distracting. Of course, I knew why he did it. I could feel the shadows of pain that drifted over from him, the way his chest burned when fabric rubbed against the scars.

My magic flowed through the ?tít as I moved to take away the pain, surging comfortably as I trailed the burn of Black Water and numbed it. It was something I was sure only I could do—equalize the painful burn of the water flowing through him. His thoughts tumbled over to me as the sting left, a million thank yous swelling his gratitude. They all rushed through me at once and I smiled.

You’re welcome, Ilyan. You owe me nothing, I answered his thanks before he was able to put words to them. His eyes widened in surprise as I did so, the movement ever so brief before his smile returned.

“I knew you could hear me,” he said, his accent deep as he leaned toward me, his fingers weaving through mine as he grabbed my hand. “I knew it wasn’t just me when you sang with me earlier, your voice in perfect time with mine. I knew you could hear me as well.”

I could feel his love surge before his thoughts started flooding mine—images, questions, memories, emotions, they all blended together as they drowned me in a suffocating mass that pushed away the peace I had captured. The apprehension that had been kept at bay crept in, my shoulders knitting together as my heart started pounding in my chest, a groan escaping my lips.

I fought the need to curl into myself as the flow of Ilyan’s consciousness continued, my chest constricting until I couldn’t breathe under the pressure. I crumpled beneath the weight until every muscle in my body was ironclad. A torrent of pain pressed against me and I began to rock back and forth, my hands moving to claw against the tender skin above the ?tít.

Ilyan moved closer to me as my frantic movements increased, his arm pulling me into his chest as the flow of his thoughts evaporated.

“Fight it, my love,” he soothed as he ran his other hand over my damp hair that hung down my back, his magic flowing into me as he calmed me, giving me enough relief so that I could push some of the tension away. I could smell the strong scent of the flora on his skin, the scent mixed with the familiar smell of his magic, and I breathed it in, letting it take away the last of my anxiety.

“I am sorry, Joclyn. I didn’t know it would do that.” His voice rumbled through my ear as I lay against his chest, my hand moving up to run against the smooth, white lines of the thin scars that peppered his warm skin.

“It’s okay,” I whispered as he shivered under my touch. Just don’t get so excited next time, I spoke into his mind, the feeling of his excitement still pulsing through me.

His eyebrows rose a bit, that familiar smirk of his pulling at his lips. His enthusiasm surged as he tried to understand what I could hear from him, what I felt from him.

“I can’t hear you word for word,” I explained, answering his unasked question again. “I only hear pieces of your thoughts and feel pulses of your emotions.”

“My emotions?” he asked, his voice even more surprised as his mind ran over similarities that I didn’t understand.

“Yes,” I whispered.

“So tell me…” Ilyan’s wide hand moved over my hair, his fingers gentle as they pulled through the strands. “What am I feeling right now?”

My stomach tangled around itself as I heard the answer. It was something that I had felt a million times before, something that I had even told him. For some reason, though, this time it felt weird to sense the emotion so strongly from him, knowing he wanted me to experience it and to tell him what he felt for me. The heavy sound of his heartbeat echoed in my ear as my own matched his beat for beat, the comfort of our heartbeats taking away my embarrassment.