The silver light between Metheea and Azrayel remained for several breaths after their hands separated.
Thin strands stretched between their fingers before slowly breaking apart, but the sensation of his mana remained inside her. The pain that had consumed her since the night before had eased enough for her shoulders to loosen, and the restless sparks around the bed had finally gone still.
It should have been a relief.
Instead, Metheea could only look at Azrayel.
He was already staring at her.
Something had happened when her core pulled his mana deeper. She had felt the change inside herself, the sudden relief followed by an awareness of him that was far sharper than anything she had felt before. From the tension in Azrayel's face, she knew he had felt something too.
His hand closed into a fist against his thigh.
Metheea watched him swallow.
Her attention caught on the movement of his throat, and heat tightened low inside her so abruptly that her breath faltered.
