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“How do I keep him from returning? Do … do I have to go back there again?”

He was silent for a moment, face slightly paling before he rasped, “I wish I knew.” The weight of his hand pressed harder into her thigh. “And if he does return, promise me that you will not shut me out. That you will runtome and pull my head out of whatever-the-fuck I am doing so I can help you.”

She reluctantly nodded.

“We take it one day at a time, like all things. And if you ever desire to go back to that place, you need only ask. Until then, I think it is time you learned to protect your mind from unwanted intrusions. Even mine.”

A solid wallof burning hot flames stood between her and the gentle caress of shadows exploring the confounds of her mind. One crack in the flames, a shadow wedged through, escaping to wreck whatever havoc the whorl could.

“Try again,” Garrik echoed somewhere in the distance, but she was focused solely on her flames. “One more time. Be an impenetrable wall. Allow nothing through.”

Alora gripped his shoulders tighter, her legs straddling him in the chair as they both locked their eyes to one another, focusing on the echoing abyss over darkness and memoriesinside her mind. Garrik’s hands firmly cradled the sides of her head as Smokeshadows bore into her mind, crashing relentlessly against a wall of flames extending high inside.

He was relentless with his advances. The tendrils viciously swirled on ruthless winds, expanding, splitting, and counteracting each of her flames’ pursuit.

Behind her aching eyes, her fire fought him. Not one shadow could find a pathway through.

“Good girl, Alora.” Garrik’s hands cupped her temples as she blinked. “I want you to practice this every day. Until it is as simple as blinking.”

She nodded, “Again.”

“That is enough for tonight. You need to rest.”

“I want to try again.”

“You will hurt yourself. I see the pain behind your eyes. How does your head feel?”

Alora’s mouth twisted. If she was entirely honest, her vision was spotting behind head-splitting pain. She inhaled, then breathed out in a frustrated sigh, crossing her arms as she leaned back. “Fine.”

Garrik smirked, and his hands fell to her exposed thighs below the hem of her tunic.

She forced herself not to react. To not think about where his hands were. How they felt against her warm skin. Forced herself not to think of a darkened annulus or an old leather chair. Or how his lips felt against hers, which were now only a few inches away. And she certainly refused entirely the thought of how her thighs straddled either side of his muscular legs. How his alluring eyes pulled her in.

His thumb twitched on her thigh. It would take only one easy movement for it to slip under the hem of her shirt.

Aloradefinitelywasn’t going to think about that.

Or the warm pulse that fluttered between her legs.

“Tell me what you are thinking about.”

Oh stars.Could he sense her quickened heartbeat or see it in her eyes? Scarlet flushed her cheeks, and Alora quickly found anything—everything else in the tent more appealing. Anything but his eyes, the chiseled muscles of his solid chest, how his tunic draped perfectly down to his pants and … his belt.

Garrik shifted his hips and arched a brow, waiting.

“I … um…”There.The ripped fabric of his tunic, covering his death mark. The deep wound festered as it did hours before. She scrunched her eyebrows, lips taut. “You didn’t put healing balm on these yet?”

He was silent.

She frowned. Turning to his other arm, Alora twisted it, exposing another deep wound on his forearm. With a bend at her side, she leaned over the armrest to the writing table where a small vial of Calla’s healing balm sat after she had rubbed it on her bruise—which healed almost entirely now. She plucked it from the table and popped the lid open. Soft like velvet between her fingers, warming it with a quick rub, Alora placed a small amount across his forearm.

Silver followed each stroke like a wolf stalking its next meal.

“How did this happen?”

Garrik’s face was unreadable. “I allowed it.”

Alora shifted to his upper arm, separating the torn fabric and exposing his festering skin. Ever so gently, she pressed the balm deep.