The magic that pushed inside me now was like warm honey pooling within me, slow and steady, a quiet strength in the chaos. It wrapped around me, not pulling, not taking—only shielding. It was different from the vessel’s hunger. It didn’t want to consume me. It wanted to keep me whole. It wanted to keep me safe. It was my bond. It was my mate. I didn’t know what was real inside me and what was an illusion, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. I could feel him, and nothing else mattered at that moment. My own magic twisted inside me, not in pain this time, but in recognition. Dacre was
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