Chapter Nine: Breathless

Metheea barely had a second to think.

As the footsteps neared, she cast a quick illusion over the bookshelf, making it appear untouched and unbothered. The book shimmered faintly, and for a split second, the spell flickered—her mana was almost gone. Azrayel's eyes snapped to the book, then to her.

Just as she sealed the spell, Azrayel grabbed her wrist and pulled her toward the far side of the office.

He opened a narrow supply closet and dragged her inside. The door shut silently behind them.

She immediately cast a concealment field around them, praying it would hold. Her lips moved without sound, and her hands trembled slightly with effort. It wasn't perfect magic she already used too much mana.

Then came the voices.

Two sets of footsteps entered the room. She couldn't understand what they were saying—their tones were low and measured, careful. But they were here.

She pressed herself against the wall, breath held. The closet was small. Cramped. Warm.

Azrayel was already close. The heat in the cramped space, mixed with rising panic, made sweat bead at her forehead. Shame twisted in her gut as her chest brushed his with each shallow breath. There was no room to move—only tension coiled tight and unbearable.

She wanted to move away, or even swat his hand as it ghosted near her side, making the fine hairs on her arm stand up, but she didn't dare. One wrong movement could make a sound and could give them away.

He lowered his head slightly, his mouth close to her ear. "Do not make a sound," he whispered.

She nodded stiffly.

She flinched as she felt his breath tickle her skin, her muscles locking up. Her heartbeat thudded in her ears. The air felt too thick.

Outside, the voices continued—two men, maybe arguing, maybe debating. She couldn't tell. But they weren't leaving.

Then she felt Azrayel shift. Just slightly. Her chest pressed against his again.

A strange sensation curled in her stomach. Her skin tingled.

This wasn't right.

But it wasn't exactly fear either.

Her breathing quickened involuntarily. The closeness, the heat, the danger—it all made the space feel impossibly small.

She flinched as she felt his breath tickle her skin, her muscles locking up. Then his lips brushed the shell of her ear, tracing lightly along the curve. It was barely a touch, but enough to make her shiver.

She whispered, "Stop."

But it came out softer than she meant.

His hand brushed against her lower back. Not intentionally, maybe. Or maybe it was.

Her fingers curled into fists, not from anger, but from the effort it took to remain still.

She felt his heartbeat against hers. Her arms, the last bit of space between them, dropped in surrender and instantly, she regretted it. Azrayel closed the gap without hesitation.

She rested her head lightly on his chest, more from fatigue than anything else, but the contact sent a rush of warmth through her body that made her bite her lip. Shame tightened her throat. Disgust, too. Yet her skin buzzed with something she couldn't name.

What the hell is happening? she thought.

The voices outside faded.

A door opened. Then closed.

Silence returned.

They remained frozen, pressed together in the dark.

Finally, Azrayel moved an inch away from her, enough to let her breathe.

Metheea didn't move. Her face was still hot. She didn't know what just happened.

Azrayel didn't let her go.

"You still have mana to go down?" he asked, voice strained.

"I don't know," she whispered. "I need more time to rest."

"We don't have time to spare," he murmured. "I'll give you some."

She blinked up at him. "How? We don't have any apparatus—"

"That's not the only way to transfer mana," he said, and she could hear the smirk in his voice.

She hesitated, then nodded. She didn't want to stay in this place any longer than necessary.

When he tilted her chin up, she was still trying to figure out what he meant until she felt his lips on hers.

Oh gods, no.

Her body froze, but she didn't push him away. His mouth moved against hers and then heat. Sharp, overwhelming heat as his mana poured into her.

His hand tightened around her waist as his tongue slipped past her lips. She whimpered against him, her body lighting up like every nerve had been set on fire.

Then, just as fast, he pulled back.

"All done," he said quietly.

Her lips tingled.

"Don't ever do that again without warning me."

He didn't respond.

She sagged against his chest a moment later, breathless and confused, the weight of everything still settling in her bones.

He opened the door and led them out. She didn't resist when he scooped her up again.

The mana inside her crackled like lightning, alive and unfamiliar. When he adjusted her in his arms, a moan slipped from her throat.

Azrayel stopped. "Don't do that," he whispered.

"Do what?" she breathed.

He didn't answer as they crept down the hallway and disappeared into the dark once more.