Page 69 of Roaring Spell

A laugh escapes me—wet and broken and hopeful all at once. “That’s a terrible line.”

“All my lines are terrible.”

“They’re perfect.” I close my eyes. “Terrible and perfect. Just like you.”

For a long moment, we just breathe. Close and quiet and suspended in a moment that feels like the pause before a storm.

Then I stop waiting for the storm to break.

I close the distance between us.

His lips are warm. Gentle at first—tentative, questioning, giving me every opportunity to pull away. I don’t. I press closer, my hands finding his chest, feeling the steady heat of him through his shirt.

He makes a sound—low, almost pained—and his control cracks.

His hands slide into my hair, cradling my head as he deepens the kiss. He tastes like chocolate and rain and a warmth that’s uniquely him. His mouth moves against mine with a hunger that steals my breath, and my magic surges in response—not chaotic, not destructive. Just present. Alive. Reaching toward him like it recognizes home.

I’ve been kissed before. Quick, awkward things that never went anywhere because I was always leaving, always running, always too much for whoever tried to hold me.

This isn’t like any of those kisses.

This is consumption. This is claiming without the magic. This is two people who’ve been circling each other for weeks finally admitting what they want.

His teeth graze my bottom lip and I gasp against his mouth. He swallows the sound, pulls me closer, one massive arm wrapping around my waist until I’m pressed against him completely.

When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing hard.

“That was—” My voice comes out wrecked.

“Long overdue.” His thumb traces my jaw. His eyes are dark, heated, stripped of the careful control he usually wears. “I’ve wanted to do that since the first day you tried to electrocute me.”

“I didn’t try to electrocute you.”

“You absolutely tried to electrocute me. It was adorable.”

“Lightning isn’t adorable.”

“On you it is.” He kisses me again—quick, fierce, like he can’t help himself. “Everything about you is.”

I laugh against his mouth. Feel him smile in response. This is what I’ve been missing. This is what running never let me find.

Belonging. Home. Someone who sees my chaos and calls it beautiful.

His hand slides down my spine, leaving heat in its wake. I shiver—not from cold. From want. From the realization that I could have more of this. That he wants to give me more.

“Torin.” His name comes out breathless. “We should probably⁠—”

“I know.” But he doesn’t let go. His forehead presses against mine again, both of us catching our breath. “We have a Preserver to catch.”

“And evidence to deliver.”

“And a town to save.”

“Very responsible.” I brush my lips against his—just a whisper of contact. “Very bear-like.”

“Also incredibly distracted at the moment.”

“We should stop.”