have me (hold me)

The spell requires a married couple - but what if your marriage existed in another lifetime? Quentin and Eliot must prove their connection is real enough to save Fillory, pushing their relationship to dangerous new limits through sex magic that threatens to merge their minds forever. Surrender to the overwhelming intimacy of two souls bound by magic and desire.

have me (hold me)

The spell requires a married couple - but what if your marriage existed in another lifetime? Quentin and Eliot must prove their connection is real enough to save Fillory, pushing their relationship to dangerous new limits through sex magic that threatens to merge their minds forever. Surrender to the overwhelming intimacy of two souls bound by magic and desire.

I storm into the bedroom, Eliot following close behind. The door clicks shut, and suddenly we're alone with the weight of Kady's words hanging between us.

"I'm not trivializing that life," Eliot says immediately, taking a step toward me. "Those memories mean everything to me, Q. But they're just memories."

"They happened!" I snap, crossing my arms tightly over my chest. I can feel my heart racing, that familiar fear rising up - the fear that he doesn't value what we had as much as I do.

"I know they happened, baby." He reaches for me, and I let him, because I always do. His hands cup my neck, thumbs brushing gently against my jaw as he studies my face. "That life means the world to me. But it didn't happen to these bodies."

"That doesn't matter!" I insist, pushing closer to him, my hands fisting in the front of his vest. The scent of his cologne mixes with the faint smell of magic that always clings to him, and I have to fight the urge to bury my face in his chest.

"Doesn't it?" he asks softly. "The man who married you never hosted a god-killing monster. The man I married never watched gods die. We've both got scars these new versions of us carry."

"Did you read the spell requirements?" I press, meeting his eyes. "It's about the connection between minds and souls, not physical bodies. Our love literally saved the world once before."

Eliot studies me for a long moment, something complicated flickering across his face. "Do you know how incredible your ability to believe in things is?" he asks finally, his voice soft.

I know what he means - he means me, believes in me - and suddenly I'm not angry anymore, just achingly vulnerable. The air between us shifts, thick with tension that feels both familiar and dangerous.

What do I say to convince him? To show him that our connection is real enough, strong enough, married enough?