Page 61 of The Incendiary

“Well, my uncle gives me something to tame the powers. I take it monthly.”

I didn’t like the sound of that. “Why would he want to tame you?”

“Because I could easily hurt someone. I can’t control it well. He doesn’t make it strong enough to suppress them entirely. It’s safer for everyone.”

For everyone but her, I deduced.

Her uncle could go fuck himself.

“I’m not worried about you hurting me.” Not physically. Emotionally, she could destroy me. “But show me one of the safer ones to start, if you’re more comfortable.”

She settled into serene concentration and hovered her palm over the water. Delicate shoulders rose and fell with a slow, controlled breath. She wiggled her fingers gently over the water’s surface. The lake’s surface tension began to ripple and break as if she was touching it.

She turned her hand sideways and curled her fingers inward, cupping the air. When she lifted her hand up, the water followed, rising and recycling in a continuous stream. When she turned her palm toward the sky, the water flowed up like a gushing fountain. The water’s movement was almost as entrancing as she was.

Her hand turned, and a small ball of water broke off and drifted left, hovering in the air between us. Her mouth twitched, and the water took the shape of a tiny horse that ran circles around the fountain.

“My gods.” I shook my head at her in utter disbelief. “You’re a miracle.”

“Hardly,” she scoffed. When she dropped her hand, the water fell to the surface with a plop.

“That was the second most spectacular thing I have ever seen in my life.”

She peered at me curiously. “And the first?”

I looked her straight in the eyes and said, “You.”

Her warm, apple cheeks reddened. “I don’t⁠—”

“That look specifically.” I pointed to her face, nervous minutes ago, now bright with joy. “You, happy.” Her magic was brilliant, but it was her smile that made me a possessive madman eager to whisk her away to somewhere we’d never be found. “Will you show me another?”

She rolled her lips together. I followed the movement while voracious heat stirred low in my stomach. Everything she did was delectable.

“Which one?” she asked.

My thoughts shifted to the gods. I’d read about them plenty, but the specifics eluded me. I would remedy that as soon as I returned home. I pressed my tongue to the inside of my cheek and felt the heat on my skin. Heat. My birthday month. “Can you do fire?”

She cringed. “That one’s not very safe.”

“We’re surrounded by water. It’ll be fine,” I assured her. “And if you burn something, I’ll help you put it out.” I smirked. “But only if you want to.”

Her nerves galvanized the air between us, but the moment I placed my hand on her knee, she relaxed. Her gentle exhale caressed my cheek. As much as I calmed her, she calmed me, too.

“Okay.” She lifted her hand. Just like before, her concentration stilled the air around us. Within seconds, a flame ignited and burned at the center of her palm. She stared directly into the fire, her wide eyes a mirror of heat and angry light. Goose bumps spread across my body when, for the first time, I saw something I didn’t know she was capable of.

Anger. Traces of it. Weaker than her love and kindness but still there. I wasn’t afraid of it. Hatred and fury were old friends of mine. But I knew, watching her, that only the gods themselves would be able to save whoever deserved her wrath.

I calmly rested my hand on her outstretched arm. “Come back to me, Aryella.”

At the sound of my voice, her eyes cleared. The flames scattered, and white-hot, searing pain erupted across my upper arm.

“Shit!” I reeled back. The initial sting faded quickly into heat and a dull ache, which told me the burn wasn’t deep. This wasn’t my first encounter with fire. “Well, damn.”

“Gavin!” She stared in horror at the straight line of the burn across my arm and grabbed my wrist. “Oh, gods!”

My smile disappeared at the sight of her distress and onslaught of tears. “Hey, no, it’s alr⁠—”

“I’m so sorry! Gods, I’m so sorry!”