CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

I hold out my right hand and grip my crystal with my left. Maybe closer contact with it will help? My magic leaps and surges within me, more eager than ever to be let out since I didn't use it yesterday.

I try, over and over, but my magic remains locked inside.

God, I can feel it! Why can't I use it?

My eyes pop open and immediately go to Krivoth, who stands patiently to one side, watching me with a burning intensity that I feel all the way to my core. As soon as he sees me looking, his expression shifts to something more neutral.

But I saw it. He wants me.

And god, I want him, too.

"How can I help?" he says, and all those hours of riding in front of him with his hand splayed across my stomach come back to me. The way a traitorous part of me longed for that hand to slide lower, to give me all the pleasure of that fateful evening again… and more.

"Focus, Taylor," I mutter to myself. Where's all my discipline gone? I used to be able to play for hours at a stretch, doing whatever it took to learn a new skill. But gaming sure as hell never had anything as distracting as a seven-foot orc with killer cheekbones and smoldering eyes.

And big fingers… and an even bigger cock.

My thighs squeeze together.

I have to clear my throat to answer him. "Can you touch my shoulder from behind? I want to see if I can feel how you tap into your magic with less contact."

He nods and strides around me, and the firm weight of his hand settles on my right shoulder. His right hand. The hand that was in me.

Get it together, girl, I say internally.

I lift my arm, grip my crystal, and reach for his magic instead of mine, but it whispers across my senses, remaining just out of reach.

"It's not enough contact," I say. "I can't feel your magic."

"How about this?" Krivoth drops to his knees behind me, which makes him only a little taller instead of a lot. Both his arms wrap around my stomach, pulling me back until we press together from my calves to my shoulder blades. His voice is a deep rumble that vibrates through me. "Can you feel it now?"

I sure as hell feel something. Desire shivers through me, along with the tingle of his magic. "Yep," I gasp, unable to say anything more articulate.

Magic, Taylor, I remind myself. Focus on the magic.

Closing my eyes again, Krivoth becomes my entire world. My magic leaps at the feel of his, which flows easily through his whole body. But no matter how hard I try to do the same, I can't.

Only… I'm not fae. I'm a human witch. The magic inside me comes from the standing stone, which we left miles behind. So how can I channel it? My pendant is part of it, but also…

I strain harder, feeling this time past Krivoth, feeling the magic in the ground beneath my feet. An ocean of power roils below me, huge and unstoppable, a force of nature. It's Alarria! I'm feeling the power of this whole world!

Krivoth taps into it, too, but more to connect with it than to draw power from it. That's what I've actually been feeling when I attune to his magic—how he connects to Alarria.

I picture a line of power connecting me to the ground, brilliant white shot through with bolts of pale-green lightning. My crystal warms in my hand, and I nod, the feeling so right.

This time when I open my eyes and cast my hand forward, the power inside me makes a complete circuit, traveling up from the ground and into the well inside me, where the tint of green changes to lavender—it's my magic now, filtered through my witchy powers.

The toadstool explodes in a cloud of red and white, and I let out a whoop. "Yes! I did it."

"I knew you could." Krivoth's arms tighten around me.

His words mean the world to me, and I sway back into him for a moment. Then I step forward enough that he has to let me go. "Sorry. I've got to try this without you touching me."

"What will this prove? You usually get your magic to work even once I stop touching you."

"You're right." I nod, glancing over my shoulder at him. "In all of our previous practice sessions, I clung to the feel of my magic once I got it working. But this time I'm purposefully going to let it go, so I can practice bringing it back by myself."

Turning to face the front, I do just that, unraveling my hold on my power until it snaps back into the hollow space inside me.

He grunts and stands. "I'll set up another toadstool."

Once it's in position and he's out of the way, I close my eyes and reach. Even knowing the magic waits right below me in the ground, it's still harder to find without Krivoth's magic guiding me to it. Magic defies logic. Reaching "down" doesn't do anything.

But I didn't get to the endgame level of every expansion pack of the Witcher by giving up, and I'm sure as hell not going to give up now, when learning my power means safety for me and everyone I hold dear in this world.

So if down doesn't work, what will? Then it comes to me. I don't need a direction—I need a feeling. All this time, I didn't chart what Krivoth did like reading a map. I felt his magic and how it moved through him.

I reach out again, searching for the heart of Alarria, the magic that feels as wild and free as the fae who call it home. Everything's there—Krivoth's steady power as he fights to protect those in his care; Storm's grumpiness even while he carries us everywhere; Mist's smug amusement tempered by her willingness to hunt for us; and even the sprites and their mischievous attempt at throwing a party.

Alarria is all of this to me, and so much more.

She sings below my feet and all around me, a song of power and life.

"Hi," I whisper, awe filling my chest even as my magic connects and my crystal warms in my hand.

In a burst of wild laughter, another toadstool bites the dust.