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The golden energy sought out the jagged edges left by my extraction experiment, smoothing them, balancing them. Where I had created absence by removing my fear, it brought harmony. Where I had intensified anger to dangerous levels, it brought perspective. Not replacing or removing emotions, but restoring their natural equilibrium.

"Better?" Lust asked, his voice a rumble I could feel through his fingers.

I opened my eyes to find him watching me intently, his pupils dilated, breathing slightly changed. The hands on my face remained gentle, but I suddenly became aware of how close we were sitting, how the air between us seemed charged with something more than just magickal energy.

"Yes," I whispered, not trusting my voice at normal volume. "Thank you."

His thumbs moved almost imperceptibly, brushing across my cheekbones in a touch so light it might have been accidental. But nothing about Lust was accidental–every movement deliberate, every touch intentional.

"The magick you used tonight," he said, voice still low, "it was powerful. Raw. Few can channel emotional energy that way."

"Is that bad?" I asked, acutely aware that he hadn't removed his hands from my face.

"No. Just rare." His gaze dropped briefly to my lips before returning to my eyes. "You're extraordinary, Juniper Grey. Or should I say, Hazel Blackwood?"

"I don't know who I am anymore," I admitted. "Not really."

"You're whoever you choose to be," he said simply. "Death just gave you the freedom to decide."

Something shifted in the energy between us–the healing magick transforming into something else entirely. The golden warmth took on a deeper hue, an edge of heat that wasn't quite healing anymore. Lust's eyes darkened further, and I felt my own breathing quicken in response.

"I should go," he said, though he made no move to release me. "You need rest."

But I didn't want to rest. I wanted to feel alive, to make a decision that was entirely my own. After a lifetime of having my path chosen for me, after dying and coming back to discover even that hadn't been my choice, I wanted to claim something for myself.

"Stay," I said, surprising myself with the certainty in my voice. "Just...a little longer."

His magick pulsed once, strongly, between us. I found myself leaning forward, drawn by something beyond conscious thought. This wasn't desperation or gratitude–this was want, pure and simple. My want. My decision to make.

Lust's face was inches from mine now, his breath warm against my lips.

"Juniper," he whispered, my chosen name a question in his mouth. A request for permission. A recognition of boundaries I was free to set or dissolve as I chose.

I closed the remaining distance between us, answering with actions instead of words. With Xavier, I was supposed to want this. With Lust, I actually do. The difference is everything.

Chapter

Eighteen

LUST

She’s going to kiss me.

It was the only thought in my head, and kept cycling around and around, running a hundred miles an hour. Near the window, moonlight dripped through branches like splashes of silver blood on the floorboards. She leaned in, bare feet silent on the wood. My breath caught.

I never knew Hazel as a mortal, but I couldn’t get Juniper out of my head. Juniper wasn’t delicate, like a fledgling bush or fragile flower. She was wild like a strong tree. Power curled around her like mist, and I could feel it pressing against my skin before her lips hovered near mine—warm, insistent. She tilted her head, a fuzzy strand of hair falling across her face.

“You’re dangerous,” she murmured. “You know that?”

“And you’re not?” I countered, my voice lower now, my eyes flicking to the side to indicate the swirling strands of burnt amber magick around us.

Our eyes locked, and for a moment neither of us breathed. She reached out, fingers grazing the collar of my shirt. Sparksshot through me, sharp and real. I caught her wrist, not to stop her, but to feel her pulse thrum beneath my thumb.

So alive. So real.

“I can’t believe it myself,” she murmured against me, her breath a warm puff of air against my face. “Did he only do it because of this...fated thing?”

I didn’t have a good answer, but needed to come up with one. I didn’t have a good answer for anything, lately. Maybe it was seeing the new power she’d displayed—bottling up emotions and harnessing them like they were fucking berries. Maybe it was the fact that her power didn’t frighten me—it fascinated me. Was that why Pride had done it?