Kael stood at the threshold, his breath hitching in his throat. In the center of the room, atop a pedestal of raw, bleeding obsidian, floated the object of his life’s work: the Lapiness Sapphire.
The sensation coalesced, sinking deeper than skin. The Sapphire flared a warm turquoise. Kael felt his blood ignite. It was the fever of passion, the burning ache of need, but stripped of its anxiety. It was pure thermal energy, a nuclear reactor of desire located in the pit of his stomach. He was burning from the inside out, sweating, panting, feeling the delicious agony of a fever that threatened to consume his sanity.