Lord of the Night

Chapter 63: Practice

Anticipation bubbled in my chest. I wasn't really worried that he would kill me—I trusted him much more than he trusted himself. However, I wasn't sure how this would go, how it would feel, and how it would affect us both.

When he stopped in arm's reach from me, my breaths sped up, and my muscles tightened. I forced myself to relax—and forced myself to keep breathing even as his hand lifted toward me.

His fingers grazed my chest, and electricity sparked between us, a pulsing energy so strong I expected a blinding light and a crash of thunder. But the only sound was our mingled quick breaths, and the only sight was his slender fingers slowly pressing down so his whole hand rested just above my heart.

His fingers fanned out, covering a little more space, and then his hand slid down my chest to my abs. Like striking a match, the movement ignited a fire.

For the first time since he had removed the cuff, his eyes snapped up to meet mine. "Are you ready?"

Some crazy part of me I didn't know existed was now vying for control, and for the first time in my life, I wanted to beg. Beg him to take my lifeforce; beg him to take me.

"Yes, ready," I grated out.

He focused on his hand, and I did too. Would I see the lifeforce exchange? Would I know when it started?

Then it started, and my questions stopped.

Without the imminent fear of death, I was even more aware of every sensation: the plunging in my gut, the soaring in my chest, the flames devouring every inch of my skin. In the relative safety of these closed quarters, I could fully admire the glow of his amber eyes, the smooth planes of pale skin, the soft black locks spilling over his forehead and framing his face. And I could appreciate how his pupils dilated and his lips parted gently...

He stumbled back a step, breaking the current, and cursed. "I told you not to move."

"I didn't." I mentally replayed what had just happened, but a thick fog obscured the details. "Did I?"

"You leaned toward me."

"Oh. Sorry."

He sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. "Are you alright?"

"I'm totally fine." It was true, mostly; the only noticeable effect was a little lightheadedness, and that could have been attributed to sensory overload. "How do you feel?"

"I feel like I just stole your lifeforce. Can we be done now? This isn't working."

I studied his face, confused by his apparent frustration. "We've only tried once, and maybe you took too little to feel much effect."

"It's not about the effect, Remgar. It's about me failing. Even before you stepped toward me, I couldn't do it. I don't have enough control."

"But you did great. You didn't transform, and you only took a little."

"I wasn't trying to take any."

Understanding dawned on me. "Of course. You were trying to give me lifeforce."

"But I don't know how. I only know how to take."

"That's just because you haven't had enough practice."

"Or maybe it's because that's who I am."

I clucked my tongue. "You've given me lifeforce every time you've taken it from me, and I know you can do it again."

He squeezed his eyes shut—not quite fast enough to hide the glossy sheen. I fought the urge to pull him into my arms. When I asked him to practice exchanging lifeforce with me, I had known it was risky, but I hadn't realized how hard this would be on him. He was fighting an enemy he feared more than the Morgabeast or the palace.