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“Shan!” Samuel called, but she didn’t listen. She just moved closer to the fire that burned so bright, so potent and wild that it felt nearly alive. “Don’t!”

She gave him one quick look, her form shimmering in the heat of the fire. “Get out of here, Samuel,” she said, then dove into the flames. She didn’t even scream, but he could feel the flames recoiling from her, bending away as she strode through the fire, as if they couldn’t bear to touch her skin.

Wait.

He could feel the flames—not just their heat, but their power, their essence. Something new and terrible sang in his veins, and the realization hit him hard. His power was gone, that choking, cloying ability that had stifled his Blood Working since he was a child was no longer there. Isaac had seen to that.

But there was something just as terrifying in its place.

Grabbing a jagged blade from the ground—Alessi’s, discarded when she had flung it at Shan—Samuel sliced his hand open and sent blood flying everywhere. “Here goes nothing.”

He pressed the wound against his lips, and his world flooded with power.

Everything was suddenly clear and sharp, the world coming to a near standstill around him, slowing to match the steady beat of his heart, thrumming in his veins. Suddenly, he knew what to do, the magic guiding him in a way that was all instinct.

Slamming his fist into the ground, he called the witch fire to his hands, pooling it into a single, blinding ball of fire that threatened to sear him alive, but he held it fast—the world shaking as the fire died around him. It swarmed in his hands, sinking into his skin, absorbed by his blood, and he felt unstoppable.

He crossed the ruined, burnt remains of the room, moving faster than he ever had. The distance disappeared beneath his feet, and he burst through the door and up the stairs, emerging into the streets of Dameral, into the bright light of the morning. He followed after Shan—still able to feel her, to follow the trail of her agony, but quickly surged past her, leaving her behind.

Because just beyond, he could feel Isaac. The power within him pulsed, recognizing the source that had set it aflame, and it drew Samuel to him like a magnet. Like recognized like, and nothing could stop him.

He caught up with Isaac easily, seizing him around the throat, lifting him up off the ground. Isaac gasped, his eyes bulging as he tore at Samuel’s hand.

Some part of Samuel recoiled at this, but another part of him—that dark part of him that he thought was lost—relished this. Relished seeing Isaac so helpless, so desperate, and knowing that with a simple squeeze he could end every problem that faced them.

Distantly, he heard Shan calling to him, begging him to let Isaac go, warning him about something.

He couldn’t concentrate on her words—he was consumed by the power that he held within him, in his blood, burning and alive. The fire broke through his skin, swirling around his arms, seeking to be used. He was a living, breathing god, and he felt like he was full of light, like he had tapped into the essence of life itself.

Shan shoved herself in front of him, her still healing hands on his face. He tossed Isaac aside, not caring that he threw the man against the hard brick wall of a building, his head snapping against the stone.

Isaac fell to the ground and did not move again.

Samuel turned to Shan, catching her fingers in his mouth, sucking the blood off them. The magic happened immediately, binding them together with a bridge that left them tied in a way that felt far too intimate. Far too right.

You have to let it go, he heard, her voice a gentle whisper in his mind. They were so tightly wound together they might have been sharing the same body—her thoughts were his thoughts; her pain was his pain. It will destroy you, eat you from the inside out.

He shook his head—he controlled the power, not the other way around. He released a rush of it, letting it wash over her. Her screams were loud as her flesh regrew all at once, knitting back together in a wave that left her reeling. Her touch on his cheek was once again soft, her burns gone, the shine of her hair restored.

Running his fingers through it, he murmured soft words of praise. She was beautiful, so damned beautiful, and she was his now. He had the power to protect her, to break the world and leave it at her feet, and he’d do it without even being asked.

Come back to me. She threw her thoughts at him, her feelings, everything that she was. It overwhelmed him, sent him staggering, but she clung to him. Don’t become him.

Become who?

She pressed herself against him, tucking her face into the crook of his neck so that their hearts beat against each other. “The King,” she whispered, the physical sound of her voice drawing him in, so soft against him. “Don’t become addicted to the power. You’re better than that, Samuel.”

Shuddering against her, he buried his face in her hair. She was right, wasn’t she? This power felt so right in his hands, but it wasn’t him.

This was not him.

He didn’t know if he could let it go, but she wouldn’t have asked him if it wasn’t important.

“What do I do, Shan?”

Her relief hit like a wave, rushing over his too hot skin like the cool balm of water on a summer’s day. “Ground it, Samuel. Give it back to the earth.”

“The fire—”