By dawn, the ash on my skin had spread into whorls and spirals, black-grey patterns that looked like veins carved from soot. When Kael’s fire touched me, they pulsed brighter, drinking his flame instead of recoiling.

Every touch between us was now dangerous. His warmth felt like worship one moment, poison the next.

The unborn writhed with glee. Do you see? His fire feeds me. The more he loves you, the stronger I become. Soon, you will not need his fire at all. You will sit upon the marrow ...