The runes shining through were as distracting as... well, everything else seemed to be to the witch in the moment. They caught her eyes, pulling at her attention, the flickering of his internal flame pulling at something primal within her. It was beautiful and dangerous, and traditionally Elia loved beautiful and dangerous things. Her romance with darkness had been a healthy amount of what had led to her deal in the first place.
The next deep breath, the next inhalation of her overflowing power, left the witch a little dizzy for a moment. Her bargain with the Dark Goddess was a tricky thing, but if there was any creature who could have taken that power from her, it was Kennet – in fact, she had offered it to him. Her power and will to use as he pleased, a rashly-made gift in a moment of lustful weakness.
That dizziness disappeared when his fingers wrapped around her wrist, his less-controlled heat searing through her skin, making the surface crack and peel under his hand. Elia gasped, then whimpered – but she didn't try to jerk away. If anything she leaned toward him, bracing herself against the pain of the burn by curling her fingers (and their sharp nails) into the shoulder opposite the hand that held her.
Only when he released her did her magic bubble up to heal her, bringing with them a cooling sort of relief. That allowed her breath to stutter against his mouth, the rush of endorphins making her head spin all over again. It was a moment before she was fully engaged, fully aware of his lips and the lick of flames eating away at her shadowy robes, stripping them away until it was just her skin against his.