Soul of Flame (Imdalind Series #4)(77)

Ilyan turned a corner at full speed—a corner I was sure did not take us to his room—before he ducked into the tiny alcove we had tucked ourselves into once before, the closeness of the stone plunging us into almost complete darkness.

I gasped as the darkness moved into me, my heart rate increasing for a completely different reason. Then Ilyan’s hand pressed against my neck, his magic plunging into me while his lips crashed against mine. The pressure of them was startling as his hands moved over my back, pulling me against him.

I lost all sense of fear at the touch of his hand against me, the feel of his fingers in my hair before I wrapped my arms around him, my tongue darting over his lips as I clung to him, my lungs forgetting to breathe, my heart too preoccupied to beat. I hungered for him as my magic reacted, filling air and space at his touch, the lights popping in the air until the darkness we had been surrounded by became as bright as day.

I pressed my lips into his, parting them just enough to breathe him in before he pulled away, his forehead warm and strong against mine. I opened my eyes at the change, my chest heaving for breath as the twinkling lights of our joined magic faded into the black.

Ilyan held still against me as he panted, his eyes closed as his skin pressed against mine, my heart thumping wildly in desperation for him to come back to me.

“Bond yourself to me,” he gasped through his strained breaths, his voice so soft I wasn't even sure I had heard it right.

“Ilyan?” I asked, my voice shaking in nerves and fear as I tried to process what he had just said.

“My entire life, I have waited for you. I have searched for you. I have worked to become someone worthy of you. And tomorrow, if the sight is true, I will lose you.”

He opened his eyes as he spoke, the blue so light they were the color of warm ice, the color freezing me beneath the touch of his warm hands.

I couldn’t deny the way my heart beat faster, the way my magic seemed lighter. I wanted this, and I could tell by the look in his eyes that he did, too. As much as my heart rejoiced—as much as my magic swelled and my mind swam in the dangers of what I held inside of me—the words that Ilyan had said days before still pounded in my ears.

“But you said-” I began, my words cutting themselves off as he shook his head, his fingers pressing softly against my lips.

“I know, mi lasko. I know what I said,” he interrupted smoothly, “and I was wrong. Wyn was right; Talon was right. For a thousand years, I have done what others have needed of me. All my life, I have served my people, protected those in need of me. I never wanted… I have never asked of anything for me. I never sought after my heart’s desires. But tonight,” he whispered, his fingers moving off my lips as they ran over my cheek, “tonight I am.”

I stood still under his touch, my body unwilling to move or look away. I stood transfixed as I stared into his eyes, my heart thumping in fear and excitement of what he was about to say to me.

“Will you bond yourself to me? Do you wish it?” His voice was soft, the whispers rushing over me.

“Yes,” I breathed, my voice a feather over his skin. My heart caught at the desire and joy that rocked through me.

Ilyan closed his eyes, and a wide smile spread across his face as he threw his head back, his lips moving in quick Czech as he spoke to the sky. His words left as he gathered me up, lifting me off the floor as he crushed me into him, his eyes boring into me before his lips brushed against mine, the touch the softest of pressures before it was gone.

“I love you, my Joclyn,” he whispered in Czech, his heart translating the words as his emotions came crashing into me, his joy so strong I could barely breathe through it.

“I love you, Ilyan,” I said, the words the truest I had ever spoken.

I had barely gotten the words out before he leaned into me, his cheek pressing against mine as his magic flooded me.

At the feeling of his warmth, the pressure of his magic, I gasped. I expected the touch—expected the movement of my magic as it met with his—however, the touch continued to deepen, and my nerves rose in confusion. I snapped my eyes shut, waiting for the pressure I had felt before, for the electric fusion of a bonding, but nothing came before Ilyan lowered me down to the ground. I opened my eyes to the stormy sky right outside the window of our room, and the gentle taps of rain as it fell over the stonework on our balcony.

I looked around in confusion, confusion I knew I should not feel at Ilyan using the Stutter to move us across the abbey. He kissed my forehead before moving away, leaving me standing alone in the middle of the room we had shared for the past few nights, the room we had fought in, the room I had kissed him in.

“This was my mother’s.” Ilyan’s voice was reverent as he walked back to me, his hands wrapped around a small, golden box. He held it out to me, the carving on the top rattling through me.

I gasped as my hands flew to my chest, my stomach tightening in surprise.

Ilyan held in his hands the box I had seen not once, but twice. First in the nightmare that had woken me before I went to heal Dramin and then in the sight that had come to me after our fight. I stared at the box as I tried to make sense of it, as I tried to understand what this box meant and why my magic had shown it to me so many times. My hand shook as I reached toward the golden surface of it, trying to determine if it was wood or gold, but right then, it didn't matter.

“I have seen this before,” I whispered as my fingers ran over the lid, tracing the faces of the two bears, one on either side with a wreath of roses held between them.