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She emerges in nothing but a towel, her skin flushed pink from the heat, hair damp and curling around her shoulders. Water droplets trace paths down her collarbone, disappearing beneath the white terry cloth that barely covers her thighs.

My nervous system goes completely blank.

Heat pools low in my stomach as my eyes follow those water droplets, imagining where they disappear. The towel clings to her curves, outlining the swell of her breasts, the dip of her waist. My hands clench involuntarily, fighting the urge to trace those same paths with my fingers.

“I forgot—” She stops mid-sentence when she sees my face, her lips parting as she takes in my expression. “Oh.”

The magical thread between us explodes with sensation. Not just emotion, but pure want—hers mirroring mine until I can barely tell where my desire ends and hers begins. Theconnection carries the heat of her skin, the way her nipples peak beneath the towel from my hungry stare, the sudden ache between her thighs that makes my own body respond with painful intensity.

My skin glows where I want to touch her—actual phosphorescence like bioluminescent plankton. Seelie magic responds to arousal, golden light bleeding through my shirt, outlining muscles in molten bronze.

The potted plants in the room turn toward us like sunflowers seeking dawn. Vines trail from their pots, reaching across the floor as Wild magic leaks from her overloaded system.

“Fuck,” I breathe, the curse slipping out before I can stop it. Her pupils dilate at the rough word. “I should depart immediately.” The words emerge strangled.

“Should you?” She steps closer, and the scent of her—clean skin and arousal—makes my mouth water. “Or do you want to go?”

“We’re affecting the environment,” she gasps, noting the plants.

“Let them observe,” I growl, but my hands shake with restraint. “Let them witness what occurs when courts unite.”

“Ash...” Her name comes out like a prayer and a plea.

“Because I asked you to stay for a reason.” She takes another step closer, close enough that I can see how her pulse races at the base of her throat. “And it wasn’t just to discuss politics.”

The towel shifts with her movement, slipping lower, threatening to fall. I force my gaze back to her face, but the damage is done. She’s seen exactly how much I want her.

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that for the first time since I arrived at this Academy, I feel like myself. Like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.” She reaches out, fingers tracing the edge of my sleeve, theinnocent touch sending fire racing through my veins. “And that feeling has everything to do with you.”

Through our connection, I feel her nerves, her desire, her determination to be honest about what she wants. What we both want.

“The political implications?—”

“Will be the same whether we fight this or not.” She moves closer until I can feel the heat radiating from her nearly naked body, until the scent of her arousal makes thinking impossible. “They already know there’s something between us. The question is whether we let fear stop us from finding out what it could be.”

Every wall I’ve built over centuries crumbles to dust.

I rise from the chair in one fluid motion, crossing to her in two quick strides. My hands frame her face, my thumbs tracing her cheekbones as I memorize every detail before capturing her mouth with mine.

This kiss is nothing like the careful brush of lips from before. This is desperation and hunger and the complete surrender of control.

Her lips are soft and warm, parting instantly under mine. When my tongue sweeps across her bottom lip, she opens for me with a gasp that I swallow. She tastes like mint from the Academy’s toiletries and something deeper—something wild and sweet that I recognize as purely her. My tongue explores the heat of her mouth, mapping every sensitive spot, claiming territory I never knew I was desperate to conquer.

She responds immediately, arms winding around my neck as she presses closer. The feel of her barely clothed body against mine is overwhelming—soft curves and warm skin and the knowledge that only a thin piece of terry cloth separates us.

“Finnian,” she breathes against my mouth, and the sound of my name in her voice breaks something loose in my chest.

“Are you aware of what your voice does to me?” I murmur against her lips. “Every time you speak my name, I become painfully hard.”

She gasps softly, but I’m not finished.

“Say it again. Just so I can confirm it’s not merely my imagination.”

“Finnian,” she whispers, and gods help me, I nearly lose all control.

“I find myself desperately wanting to render you utterly speechless,” I growl against her skin. “To discover precisely what sounds you make when words become... inadequate.”