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The first kiss was not chaste.
There was nothing polite about it. Her mouth found his with the ease of someone revisiting a favorite place and checking what had changed. Her aura slid along his, wrapping, testing, tugging at the edges as if trying to draw out the parts that had been kept too tightly wound for too long.
His hands found her waist.
He could feel the heat of her under the thin fabric, the coiled strength in the way she moved. She was not soft. She was a blade wrapped in silk, dangerous even when she laughed.
She broke the kiss with a small, satisfied sound and rested her forehead against his for a moment.
"Better," she said, voice low. "Much better. Seven stars suits you. You have more… room."
"Room," he repeated, slightly dazed.
"To work with," she said. "To play with. To drain. Do not worry. I will not take all of it. I am greedy, but not suicidal."
