Page 61 of Wicked Ends

“Don’t act so surprised.” I stop a few feet away from him. “People are disappearing. I’m taking this seriously.”

His eyes drop to my throat where the locket rests. “I see you’re wearing it.”

I touch the silver pendant reflexively.

Something flickers across his face. “Let’s begin.”

Tonight, Ash focuses on offensive magic. Not just shields and barriers, but attacks with directed bursts of energy, elemental manipulation, the kind of magic that could actually hurt someone. Or kill them.

“Channel it through your core,” he instructs, standing behind me as I try to focus a stream of golden light into something more deadly. His breath is warm, his chest nearly touches my back. “Don’t think of it as separate from you. It’s part of you.”

I close my eyes, feeling for the well of power inside me. With his magic leash loosened, my power flows stronger than ever, and it comes easily now. I extend my hand, visualizing the natural magic gathering and condensing.

A burst of gold light shoots from my hand and hits a dead tree thirty feet away. The trunk splinters with a thunderous crack.

“Better.” Ash’s approval sends an unwelcome thrill through me. “Again.”

We repeat the exercise, and Ash adjusts my stance with touches that linger just a second too long. His hands grab my hips, turning me. His fingers wrap around my wrist, lifting it higher. His body is so close that I can smell his the woodsy scent of his skin.

“You’re holding back,” he says after my fifth attempt. “Why?”

“I’m not.” But I am, and he knows it.

“You are.” He stops in front of me, eyes narrowed. “You’re afraid of your own power.”

“I’m not afraid. I just don’t want to hurt anyone.”

His laugh is short and humorless. “That’s a luxury you can’t afford, not with Jasmine hunting for her next meal.”

The reminder of the danger hanging over us sends a chill down my spine. “Fine. How do I stop holding back?”

Ash considers me for a moment, then says, “Maybe you need me to raise the stakes.”

Before I can ask what he means, he lunges at me. I throw myself sideways, narrowly avoiding his grasp. He pivots smoothly, coming at me again, and this time I’m ready. I throw up a shield, golden light flaring between us.

Ash smiles, the expression changing his face from cold to something almost playful. “Better. But shields won’t save you if you’re cornered.”

He stalks me around the clearing, testing my defenses, looking for weaknesses. Each time he gets close, I push him back with bursts of magic, but he’s relentless. Finally, he feints left, then darts right, catching my arm and spinning me against his chest.

“Got you.” He locks his arm around my waist.

My heart pounds against my ribs. His body pressed against mine feels different from Lucien’s cool strength or Drake’s gentleness or Soren’s heat. Ash is like a wild force of nature.

“You’re dead,” he says. “Jasmine wouldn’t hesitate.”

I struggle against his grip, but he only tightens it. “Let me go.”

“Make me.” His voice drops lower. “Use your magic. Really use it.”

I twist in his hold, breaking free with a quick burst of magic that makes him step back, shaking his hand like I’ve burned him.

“You’re learning.” He flexes his fingers. “But you’re still thinking too much. Magic isn’t something you control with your head. It’s instinctual. Especially yours.”

“So what do you suggest?” I don’t like the way he’s smiling at me.

“Run.”

“What?”