Soul of Flame (Imdalind Series #4)(53)

I rested my head back against his chest as he had instructed, my ear pressed against the soft cotton of his shirt as the sound of his heartbeat echoed into me. I focused on the sound as he ran his fingers over the skin of my face, down my neck, and across the lines of my collar bone. The touch felt slow and steady, the burn on his fingers comforting against my skin. Everywhere he touched left fire behind, igniting me even though he kept his magic restrained within him.

He ran his fingers over my lips again and my heart rate jumpstarted, the pulse heavy against my chest.

“Joclyn,” he scolded again, and I couldn’t help but smile.

“It’s really hard for me to focus when you are doing that,” I whispered, not trusting my voice to get louder than that without faltering.

“That is good, my love, because I want you to focus on me and what I am doing.” He continued to run his fingers over my face as he whispered, his accent deepening his voice.

“Mmmhmm,” I moaned as I looked out on the Spanish countryside that stretched beyond the windows in front of us, the low thunderheads kissing the tops of the trees as the lightning fired off in the distance. My breath caught again at Ilyan’s soft touch, my magic flaring in time with a bolt of lightning.

“Keep your eyes closed.”

I didn’t dare question him. I closed my eyes and leaned into him, letting the beat of his heart fill me. I focused on it, focused on the feel of his touch, the flow of his thoughts. I shuddered as I felt the need he tried to keep hidden, his joy so overpowering that my knees wobbled underneath me. Ilyan’s grip against me increased as my legs shook. He held me against him until I calmed myself, and stood still. His fingers ran down my jawbone as my breath caught the smallest bit of his thoughts that were pouring through me.

“Salsa dancing,” I whispered, my words sticking to his fingers as he ran them over my lips.

“Good,” he whispered so low it was more air than sound, his breathing faltering before returning to the heavy rhythm that he wanted me to focus on. “Focus on the memory, Joclyn. On the way we danced, on the sound of the music. Focus on the bridge that moment has between us. Focus on the beat of my heart.”

I didn’t answer; I just held still against him as his fingers trailed down my neck, the tip of his index finger pressing into my mark like a button. With the touch, my magic shot through me like a live wire and I gasped, Ilyan’s magic erupting right alongside mine. Together they grew into a torrent of power, the twinkling stars of our combined magic filling the air around us in a thousand lights. Our magic danced and swirled as the lights sparked, surrounding us with our own brand of fireworks.

“Make it snow,” he whispered in my ear, his breathing labored.

Ilyan had spoken the words before the flow of his magic changed, the power infusing the air with the clanging of pipes, the creaking of wood, and the screams that Ilyan had borrowed from inside my mind. I knew he was controlling it, but I couldn’t stop the fear or the way the heavy vein of my terror waited to take over. I tried to focus on what Ilyan had asked, but nothing was working.

“You are stronger than it,” Ilyan whispered through the terrifying sounds that echoed around us.

Still, the fears ruled me.

“Focus on my heartbeat.” His hand pressed against my head, holding me against him until all I could feel was the steady rhythm of his heart.

I could still hear the clanging, the screams; they didn’t go away, not like when I pushed my fears away. These were not part of me and only continued to fill the air around us, requiring me to be strong while they echoed in my ears. I had to convince myself that I was safe even though I was surrounded by my fears.

It would be the same with Ryland, standing in front of him, knowing he would attack me, though also knowing that I was safe. The two had to exist in harmony from now on.

I had to find a way to make that happen. It was my only hope to defeat my demons, to embrace them.

This was the only chance for me to make that happen; for me to find stable footing while still living with my terrors.

I let the sound of the pipes move through me as Ilyan’s heartbeat did, the two sounds cancelling each other out until I could control the anxiety; until I could feel it enough to push it away.

“Make it snow,” he repeated, his voice low and rumbling as it vibrated through me.

I focused on the beat of his heart as I brought the snow, the cold air traveling on the back of my magic. The icy breeze tugged at the thin blanket I was covered with as small, wet droplets came in through the window to fall over my face.

“Good. Focus, Joclyn. Listen to the beat of my heart. Focus on the flow of your magic.” I cringed at Ilyan’s words; no matter how soft and gentle he made them, I knew what was coming. He was going to step away and leave me standing alone as the pipes clanged, the wood creaked, and the screams filled the air. My soul seized at the thought, the fear of the pain that would come filling me up and turning the soft flakes of snow to freezing rain almost instantly.

“Calm, Joclyn,” Ilyan soothed, his emotions raging through me as his thoughts echoed his words, the strain deep as he replayed the memory he had chosen to be my anchor. But it wasn’t an anchor anymore, and the rain stayed, the storm growing into a torrent wind and freezing rain. It soaked the blanket and my hair until it hung limply against me and I began to shiver.

The memory of salsa dancing left as Ilyan quieted the haunting sounds, leaving me standing in only the sound of the wind. Ilyan’s hand ran over my skin, the heat of his touch warming me until I calmed and the rain stopped, leaving us drenched as we clung to each other.