“I see,” was all Kai said. His tone was neutral. Without seeing his face, she couldn’t tell how he felt about this—and she was too embarrassed to look at him.

“I don’t, uh…stare at that picture or anything…” Though she couldn’t claim she didn’t ogle at the real thing. “…not that it’s not a good picture of you…um…” Stupid, stupid, stupid. She cleared her throat. “This isn’t going quite as well as it did in my head.”

He snorted.

“So, those vampires, you say?” she asked. The best cure for mortification was to change the subject. Immediately. “Why do you think they went after Blackbrooke and not you?”

“Perhaps he was just the easier target. Or perhaps he is the target and not the entire Magic Council.”

His hands hadn’t stopped massaging her back, not even when she’d stumbled through that weak explanation of the magazine. Her muscles were starting to relax again.

“Why him?” she asked.

“He is the Game Architect,” Kai replied. “The one who makes our mages stronger. The Convictionites might see his continued survival as a threat.”

“More so than the dragon who could wipe out their entire organization in a single swoop?”

“They are too big. I couldn’t do it in a single swoop. Maybe two or three,” he added, a smile carrying through his words.

“And so modest too.”

“You were the one who claimed I could do it in a single swoop.”

“I was teasing.”

He paused. “You do that a lot.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Maybe I like you,” she said, turning her head to give him a silly wink.

“Sera.”

The seriousness in his voice stilled her next teasing remark. She turned around all the way, facing him. The look on his face was almost as painful as it had been when Finn had slapped the Priming Bangles on his wrists and sucked out his magic.

“I like you too,” he finally said, the back of his hand brushing her cheek.

She’d known he was attracted to her, but when he said he liked her now, it sounded like this was more than just him appreciating her body.

“And that hurts you?” she asked cautiously.

“Watching you in the Games is…unsettling. I don’t wish for you to be hurt. In body or mind. The Magic Council is digging into your past. They are determined to figure out why you’ve been hiding your magic.”

“They?” she asked. “But not you?”

“I don’t care what you are.” His finger traced up her arm. “I only care who you are. And you aren’t a threat to them.”

“I overheard your conversation with Blackbrooke.” She caught his hand, intertwining her fingers with his. “I know you’ve been trying to protect me from them.”

“I brought you here,” Kai said. He sounded disgusted with himself.

“You didn’t have much of a choice. Neither of us did.” She sighed. “The world isn’t big enough that I could hide from the Magic Council, not once they found out about my magic. And they would have come for you if you’d tried to help me.”

“Let them come,” he growled, agitation pulsing through his magic.

She leaned in, rising to her tiptoes to whisper into his ear, “Thank you. For all your help. I know I let my sarcasm get in the way, well, pretty much always, but I wanted you to know I am grateful for your help. I wouldn’t have made it this far if you hadn’t helped me control my magic. Well, kind of control my magic.”

“You’re better at it than you think,” he told her, his breath dissolving against her cheek. “Your magic is strong. And the stronger a mage’s magic is, the more difficult it is to control it.”

“Thank you,” she said again, kissing him lightly.

As she pulled back, their eyes met. He traced his finger along her shoulder and down her arm. He paused when it reached her hand, lingering on her wrist. His eyes never left hers. They watched her closely as he slid his magic across hers, nudging it gently. She gasped. Smiling, he brushed it against her again, this time with a little extra push. His mouth swallowed her second gasp, and he pulled her closer. His hands, lips, and magic worked in unison, massaging her body in slow, sensual strokes.

“Kai,” she moaned.

His hands slid across her back, under her top. He peeled the torn garment off of her and tossed it to the floor.

“I was disappointed when our date was cut short the other night,” he said, his lips teasing her ear.

“So was I.” She reached around him, alleviating him from the burden of his ruined shirt too. A smirk tickled her lips. “All we got to do was dance.”

“You dance beautifully.” His gaze intensified. “You are beautiful,” he added, his fingers teasing her through her lace bra.

Heat flooded her, rushing over her breasts, licking her skin as it cascaded down her body. His magic danced lower, sliding down her sides, down to her hips. His hands followed in its wake, burning the skin already taunted by magic. Slipping his hand under her skirt, he caressed her inner thigh in languid strokes, slowly inching upward. One of his fingers brushed against her panties. He stopped, and her breath caught in her throat.

“Only if you’re ready,” he said, looking her in the eye.

She resisted the urge to grab his hand and put it where it belonged. “Of course I’m ready,” she said, her voice thick and rough. Oh god, what am I doing? “I’ve been ready since you massaged me.”