“Didn’t need to see your aura.” He tapped my forehead. “You get a cute little frown there when you’ve got something bothering you.”

“Not everything about me is cute.”

“That’s true. Some things are cute. The rest are sexy.” His voice was low as he leaned toward me. “So amazingly, agonizingly sexy that it’s a wonder I can get anything done when all I ever think about is the taste of your lips and the touch of your fingertips on my skin and the way your legs feel when I–”

“Adrian,” I interrupted.

His eyes smoldered. “Yes?”

“Shut up.”

We reached for each other at the same time, and all thoughts of my dad melted away at the crush of Adrian’s mouth on mine. Until him, I had always believed discussions of the periodic table or Latin declension would turn me on. Nope. When I touched Adrian, it was all about him. I came alive in a way I didn’t know was possible and became obsessed with the feel of our bodies wrapped together. I think sometimes he thought I was holding back on sex because I wasn’t ready to cross that physical threshold. But I actually was ready. Believe me, I was. It was the mental threshold that still held me up–the knowledge that once you crossed that line, there was no going back.

And in moments like this, when he laid me back on the floor and leaned over me, I wasn’t sure why I’d ever want to go back. He slid his hand over my leg and hip, then up and under my shirt. There was a confidence in every single move he made, an assurance in knowing exactly how each touch would take me to the edge. His eyes, burning with both desire and urgency, held me as he took in my response, and then he brought his hungry lips back to mine. Meanwhile, my fingers fumbled to undo his buttons, though I didn’t take his shirt off yet. It was just enough to run my hands over his bare chest and feel that warm skin under my fingertips. One day, I’d know what it felt like to have all my skin against his, but when he finally broke off our frantic kissing, I knew today wasn’t the day–especially when he pointed out the obvious.

“Not saying I don’t want to go on,” he told me, voice husky, “but by my count, we’ve got ten minutes until you need to hightail it back to school. Unless . . .” He brightened. “Your sister got transferred?” When I laughed and shook my head, he sighed and eased off me. “Well then, as hard as it is to believe, your mind takes precedence over your body. Tell me what’s wrong.”

I didn’t have to imagine how that concession felt for him, but I was pretty sure I felt the same. Reluctantly, I sat up and leaned against the couch.

“So, Zoe told me today that–”

“Wait. Are you going to talk like that?”

I glanced down and realized he was referring to the fact that my shirt was sitting on the floor beside me. “My bra’s still on. What’s the problem?”

“The problem is that I’m distracted. Very distracted. If you want my undivided attention and wisdom, you’d better put the shirt back on.”

I smiled and scooted over to him. “Why, Adrian Ivashkov, are you admitting weakness?” I reached out to touch his cheek, and he caught my wrist with a fierceness that was surprisingly provocative.

“Of course. I never claimed strength in the face of your charms, Sage. I’m just an ordinary man. Now put the shirt back on.”

I leaned forward, testing the strength of his hold. “Or what?” With my free hand, I caught hold of one of my bra straps and started to pull it down . . .

. . . which is how we ended up kissing and rolling around the floor again.

“Damn it,” he said a little while later, breaking free again. “Don’t make me be the responsible one here. We’re down to five minutes.”

“Okay, okay.” I made myself decent and gave him an extra‑abbreviated rundown of the news about my dad. “The whole time I’ve been in Palm Springs, I’ve felt like I’m in control. With him here . . . I don’t know. I suddenly feel like there’ll be a power shift.”

Adrian was all business now. “You aren’t going to lose any power. He can’t take your life away. He can’t take away this.” He gestured around us. “It’s just dinner. He’s probably going to talk about the divorce.”

“I know, I know. It’s just been so hard keeping secrets from Zoe, but I’ve pulled it off. He plays in a whole other league.”

“You’re smarter than him. You’re a better person than him.” He clasped my hands and kissed them, but it was a gesture of support and affection, not raging passion. “There’s nothing to worry about. Be your clever Sage self and tell me about it later tonight.”

“If you’re awake,” I teased. Adrian’s dream visits had been few and far between the last week or so. He’d been sleeping better than usual and had apparently listened to me about the importance of avoiding excessive spirit use. “And we still need to get in touch with Marcus again, so you’ll have to be ready for that soon.”

“I guess I’ll just have to drink more coffee to stay awake.” There was a sly glint in his eye.

“Watch it,” I warned. Taunting me with caffeine was a low blow. “You better stay on good behavior if you want some indecency again.”

“Really? And here I thought it was bad behavior that earned me that.”

We kissed goodbye, and I headed back to Amberwood a little later than intended. It was worth it, though. That short talk with Adrian–and the longer physical contact–had strengthened me. I felt confident, filled with both love for Adrian and readiness for my battles. I could handle my dad.

Mentioning Marcus made me think of my charmed salt. So far, I hadn’t done anything with it. Maybe Adrian was right, and Marcus would want to test it on a new recruit. Ms. Terwilliger was keeping it at her house for me, and although I was familiar enough with Alchemist tattooing ink, I wanted her advice on the magical properties of certain substances that might go into the blend. But when I walked into her classroom, I saw I’d have no chance for magical discussion. Zoe was there, waiting impatiently. Despite being a little late, I’d made it back only a few minutes after classes had ended. She must have run straight from her last one here.

“There you are,” she said.

Ms. Terwilliger glanced up from her desk and gave me a knowing look. “Thank you for taking those papers to the office for me. I was just explaining to your cousin how helpful you’ve been to me.”

I smiled stiffly. “Happy to help, ma’am. Am I excused?”

“Yes, yes, of course.” She returned to her paperwork without a second glance.

“What’s the urgency?” I asked as Zoe and I left the classroom.

“We have to go meet Dad now,” she said.

“Now? It’s not dinnertime. It’s not even senior‑citizen dinnertime.”

“Dad got into town early and didn’t want to waste time.”

I tried not to scowl. “And once again, I’m the last to know.”

She shot me a wounded look. “You seem to have other things  you think are more important. Figured you wouldn’t care.”

“Don’t start,” I warned. We reached the parking garage, and I did my usual scan of Quicksilver to make sure no idiot parker had scratched the paint.

To my surprise, Zoe backed down. “You’re right. We shouldn’t be fighting with each other. Today we’re sisters, not just Alchemists. We need to unite against our common enemy.”

“You mean Mom?” I asked incredulously. Zoe nodded in confirmation, and I had to bite my lip on a retort, lest I really did get a fight going.

The restaurant my dad had chosen was exactly what I would’ve expected from him. He had no patience for what he saw as frills and excesses, so any fancy restaurant that played on mystery or romance was out. Yet, despite his pragmatism, he also couldn’t handle a bare‑bones café that would be loud and have questionable cleaning and food standards. So, he’d managed to find a Japanese fine‑dining place adjacent to a hotel that prided itself on minimalism. The decor was stark, with lots of clean lines, but the food and reputation were outstanding.