A competing flux of dread and hope made my gut squirm. The Death tarot card danced in my mind’s eye, only to be replaced by the Hanged Man dangling from one ankle with a lifeless expression of peace on his face.

Before my emotions could get away from me, I flung the blankets off. “All right. I’m taking a shower.”

“You’re supposed to rest.”

“It’s been days, Ezra.” I slid my legs off the bed and pressed my bare feet to the cold tile floor. Aside from a few twinges in my torso, I felt nothing but overall stiffness and fatigue. “I need to be clean.”

He huffed. “Then wait a moment while I start a bath for you. You can’t fall down and crack your skull in a bath.”

He disappeared into the attached bathroom, and the sound of water splashing into a tub trickled through the open door. After a minute, he came back out—just in time to rush over as I tottered across the room.

“I’m fine,” I claimed, waving him off. “Just a bit weak in the knees, that’s all.”

He wrapped his arm around my waist anyway, so I allowed myself to lean into his sturdy warmth. He guided me into the bathroom, made sure I was steady, then stepped outside and closed the door. I used the toilet, washed my hands, then hobbled over to the tub to check the temperature. Too eager to wait for it to finish filling, I stripped off my medical gown and climbed in.

Sinking into the steaming water, I reclined against the slanted back of the tub. Wonderful. Amazing. The best feeling.

One I’d come so close to never experiencing again.

My fingers crept to my ribcage, and I found a tender spot where the dagger had pushed through my skin and into my organs. I prodded around a bit more, shocked as always by the miracle that was Arcana healing; you’d never know I’d had a hole punched through my chest. Remembering the feel of the blade, I hastily focused on pouring shampoo onto my palm and lathering it into my hair.

I slowly worked through a simple shampoo and soap process, but with each movement, I could feel exhaustion building in my limbs. I’d been healed before and bounced right back—but I hadn’t been terribly injured those times. The guys, however, had suffered varying degrees of traumatic injuries, and I understood now why they’d needed days or sometimes a full week in a healer’s care before returning to their usual routine.

Heaving out of the water, I stepped onto the soft bathmat, sloppily wrapped a towel around myself, and tried to decide whether my weak legs would make it all the way back to the bed.

“Ezra?” I called hesitantly.

He was through the door in an instant. “Should I get Elisabetta?”

“No, no.” I forced a laugh. “I’m just pathetically tired.”

“Pathetically?”

“Yeah, I mean, you’d think I could walk across a room—”

He slid his arm around my waist and tugged me closer. Pressing his hand to my cheek, he tilted my face up. “Tori, it’s okay.”

I blinked in confusion.

“You were attacked. You were hurt. You almost died. Don’t pretend that didn’t happen.”

“I’m not—”

He leaned down, bringing our faces closer. “You don’t have to be strong right now.”

My mouth opened and closed, and that storm of emotions I’d been stuffing deep down since waking up post-stabbing stirred insistently. “N-no, I don’t—”

“Do you remember what you told me when I hid my insomnia? You said, ‘Don’t try to be so strong all by yourself.’”

My breath caught in my throat—and my eyes stung.

He tucked me against his chest, and the warmth of his encircling arms spoke for him: I’m here.

The soft but unyielding resolution in his eyes spoke too. I’ll be strong.

His steady heartbeat under my hand where it rested on his chest murmured, I’ll protect you.

My mouth trembled. Tears spilled over, running down my cheeks.

He held me close, arms tight, one hand tangling in my wet hair. I clutched his shirt as emotions welled up inside me—fear and dread and weakness and vulnerability. So much vulnerability. I hated that feeling. Hated feeling like I was a victim. Hated feeling so defenseless.

That mythic had come at me from nowhere. I’d been happy. Laughing. Delighted that Justin wanted to visit my guild.

And then I’d been dying. The cult wanted me dead, and they’d almost succeeded. They’d keep trying until they accomplished their goal, and I would never know where the next attempt would come from.

I buried my face in Ezra’s chest, shaking with sobs. I’d almost died. Almost died. So close to the end. To nothingness. To no longer being a person, only a memory in the hearts of those left behind.

I dragged my head up. Ezra gazed down at me as my hand slid up his chest, along his neck, and curled into his hair.

Before I could pull his head down, he was kissing me.

I clamped my mouth against his, kissing him back with equal ferocity. All my fear and helplessness fled as fire ignited in my blood. My arms were around his neck, both hands fisted in his hair. His arms held me against him, fierce but gentle.

Tilting my head, I opened my mouth for him and his tongue found mine. Fatigue forgotten, I pressed into him. My flimsy towel caught between us, the fluffy cotton rubbing against my bare skin as it slid down. His breath rushing out, he grabbed the back of the towel, the muscles in his arms bunching as he held it in place.

“Tori,” he rasped. “You should be in bed.”

“Only if you get in with me.”

He stifled a groan. I arched into him, cold air finding my skin as one edge of my towel dropped, exposing my naked side.

Catching the towel’s end, he swept it back around me—then scooped me off my feet. He strode out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. The sight of medical equipment tucked in the corner only slightly cooled my libido.

He set me on the bed, then flipped the blankets over me and my askew towel. Marching back into the bathroom, he returned with another towel and dropped it over my wet hair.

“Dry off,” he told me. “Then get some sleep.”

I pushed the towel up so I could see him. “I’m not tired.”

“You looked ready to fall over a moment ago.”

“Well, now I’m horizontal, so it’s all good.”

He choked on a laugh.

Pushing the towel off my head, I reached for him. He leaned down and our mouths met again. Soft, gentle, deep. A fire stoked by more than lust.

Slow, delicious heat unfurled in my center. My fingers curled around his wrist. Without breaking our kiss, I drew his hand downward. His warm fingers slid over my neck, trailing through droplets of cold water from the bath. Along my shoulder, tracing my collarbone.

I guided his hand farther down. Under the blanket. Pushing the towel aside.

He crushed his mouth against mine, breath rushing through his nose. I arched up into his palm—then his other hand was under the covers too. Sliding over my bare skin, tracing my curves. The bed dipped as he put his knee on the mattress.

I got my fingers back into his hair, holding his mouth to mine, not letting him pull away even for an instant. I would allow my own hands to wander later. Right now, I wanted him touching me. I wanted his hands on my body, exploring and teasing. Heat built in me, and the room spun as I sucked in air.

Uh, actually … the room was really spinning.

He pulled back, took one look at me, and muttered a curse under his breath. “I knew you should be sleeping.”

I caught his wrists as he withdrew his hands. “Nuh-uh. I’m good. Just needed a breather.”

“Nice try.” He tugged his arms free, then pulled the blanket up to my chin. “I should’ve been on my guard against your seductress ways.”

“Excuse me?”

“Luring me into your hospital bed.” He shook his head, somber deadpan in full force. “Just think how I’d feel if you passed out while I was kissing you.”

“To be frank, Ezra …” I arched an eyebrow. “I was luring you in for a lot more than mere kissing.”

“Duplicitous,” he intoned.

I laughed, and his grin flashed, its appearance stealing the air from my lungs. His smile was already sexy enough, but add in the faint flush in his cheeks and the way his gaze kept sliding down toward my blanket-covered chest as though he couldn’t stop himself, and hot damn.

I was ready to drag him into the bed by force.

Puffing out a breath, I reminded myself that there was a slight chance I might actually pass out, and I didn’t want to miss the moment when I finally got the aeromage out of his clothes and into my bed. I’d just have to be patient for a short while longer.

Considering Robin and Amalia had already begun preparing the ritual that would either save him or destroy him, I wouldn’t have long to wait.

Chapter Eight

Robin pushed her bangs off her face. “It’s ready.”

The museum basement was transformed. The floor had been cleaned, the cracks and nicks smoothed out. Robin and Amalia had drawn the array using silver alchemic paint, and the hundreds of crisscrossing lines and runes were dizzying to look at. Two large circles sat inside the twenty-five-foot outer ring—one for Ezra to stand in, and one into which Eterran would be summoned.

I hadn’t gotten to help at all. Elisabetta had only released me from her care yesterday, a week after Justin and I had checked out this spot.

“Ready?” I repeated, glancing between them, not quite daring to believe. “As in, we can start the ritual right now?”

“Uh, technically yes,” Robin replied, “but I don’t think we should attempt the ritual in broad daylight.”

“We should wait for tonight,” Aaron agreed, crossing his arms. “After midnight, at least. And I want Kai here too, just in case.”

Just in case could mean anything, but I was afraid I knew exactly which worst-case scenario he was thinking of—the one where Ezra didn’t make it out alive.

My stomach turned over.