Page 109 of Fate's Wicked Oath

“Losing yourself?”

A nod.

He couldn’t help a smug smile. “And that’snota good thing?”

She shoved at his chest, only to clutch his shirt to keep him close. “It’s more than that,” she said. “I become hyperaware of every point of contact, every nerve in my body. The constriction of my clothing, the texture of the rug, the heat of the fire. You. All at once.”

“That happens to me sometimes. Can’t you just rein it in?”

She shook her head no.

Faren considered this, along with the other peculiarities he’d observed on the road: her aversion to damp socks, the specific way she tied the laces at the front of her shirt, her preference for rain on her face instead of the billowing hood of her cloak against her ears. Most touch magicians were—presumably—like other people; the difference was their ability toheightensensation when it suited them. But Mariana…

“You aren’t like other touch magicians, are you?”

She shook her head no again, then sat up. Faren knew, then, that she was about tell him a precious secret. “You know how you can dull or increase your sensitivity at will?”

“Yes.”

“Mine isn’t malleable,” she said. “I’m sensitive all the time.Heightenedall the time.”

It took Faren a moment to wrap his head around the concept. He pushed up to sitting, facing the fire, remembering all the terrible sensations of their travels. The needling rain. The bite of cold. The unyielding ground beneath his bedroll. The blistering burn of Morta blood. The clang of steel vibrating up his arm every time his sword made contact, whether sparring or in a real fight. The sting of injury.

He thought of the bruises on her ribs. The scar on her pretty upper lip. The twenty-four years she’d endured thus far—of a sentence that was for life. The complete and utter torture she had faced for her duty, made excruciatingly worse by magic she couldn’t escape from.

“Fuck.” When he swiveled to look at her again, his heart cracked. “How do you stand it? How do you survive?”

The questioned seemed to surprise her. “I just do.”

A bemused laugh burst out of him.

“What?” she asked.

“I’m just amazed, is all.”

She sat a little straighter. “Nowwill you ignore it?”

“Not on your life.”

That seemed to disappoint her. “Why not?”

He reached for her face, then wavered. “Because I don’t want to ignore it,” he said. “You deserve to feel good, not grit your teeth through it on my behalf.”

She gripped his wrist and guided his hand to her cheek, her eyelids fluttering closed with the contact.

“Mariana.” Faren kept his voice very gentle. “We don’t have to.”

Her eyes snapped open. “Do you not want to?”

“Oh, make no mistake,” he said. “I want your body more than I want the sun to rise tomorrow. But I want you—I wantthis—on your terms.”

Her lips parted, a short breath slipping free. “I want this, too.”

“That’s good to hear.”

She gave him a coy smile that he’d never seen before, almost like she was embarrassed. “It takes me a while to…warm up,” she explained. “Sometimes if it’s too much, too fast, my magic can’t adjust.”

Faren leaned in, his mouth a mere breath from hers. “Teach me,” he murmured. “Of all your secrets, Mariana, that’s the one I want to know most. Teach me how to touch you.”