Page 75 of Obsidian and Frost

I didn’t like it.

I mean, I did appreciate it. It was sweet and thoughtful, tender even. Especially for somebody as formidable and unapologetic and justout-thereas Sylas Morgrave was known for being.

But it made me feel… like it was necessary, I guess. And like it wasn’t actually fully real. Like he was toning himself down because of the way I was. Maybe even stifling himself.

That had to be how Lazriel felt toward me now.Fuck,after all that progress we’d made during our special date before it had all gone to hell because of me… because of my fucking damage and—

“Velra?”

I blinked to see Sylas staring at me with equal parts concern and intrigue.

In one heady second, I realized why.

I was gripping the edge of the desk and my frost had leaked out and spread to two-thirds of it.

I cursed and started panicking, shifting between the frost and checking the room to see if anyone had noticed.

But then Sylas had me sucking in a ragged breath and cutting right through that panic before it could escalate to an uncontrollable level as he grasped my chin firmly, but gently.

His eyes were flaming crimson as he used the grounding hold to guide my gaze to his. “Watch the desk.”

I did.

I just did it.

Whether it was his tone, his supporting, reassuring touch, I didn’t know.

As I looked down at the desk, he pressed his other hand to it, his palm glowing with his power.

And then I observed in absolute awe as he didn’t melt my frost or anything, but drew it to him instead, pulling it along, drawing it from the surface of the desk and toward his fingers. It glided up his fingers, the frost spreading up his arm. He didn’t flinch or show any sign of pain whatsoever. In fact, I saw his eyes roll back in his head, as it all left the table and covered his arm entirely.

That wasn’t the end of it.

The frost then began seeping into his skin.

It went on and on, permeating deeper, until it was full absorbed, his red magical glow then snuffing out once all the frost disappeared from view.

He released my jaw and smiled at me. “Your Wraith Frost is soul-targeting and death-aligned. As a necromantic being, my energy reads as death-aligned also. Think of your frost like a spiritual predator—it knows I’m not prey.”

“It doesn’t hurt you.”

“Not in the least,little Wraith.In fact, it’s a bit of a rush, to be honest.”

“I can’t… I can’t hurt you if I lose control.”

“Correct.”

Before I could even begin to process that, he leaned in, the closeness coupled with the heady intensity of what had just happened, making me suck in a harsh breath. The scent of… cedar… or something like it infused me.

“It’s bergamot.”

My eyes locked on his. “What?”

“That’s my scent. Interesting that you’re actually scenting me—although not in the way a certain wolf-vampire hybrid is fond of doing. More than he realizes I’m aware of.”

“Son of a bitch,” I said, pulling away. “That’s not what I—shut up.”

He grinned. “Before you took to breathing me in, I was going to warn you that the professorislooking our way now and clearly wondering why we haven’t begun to generate our shadow portraits. Best get on that, yes?”