TWENTY-SIX
CONTROL
In our youth, we spend so much time trying to avoid, ignore, or rid ourselves of loss.
We chase constant happiness, lest we be judged for our sadness or shunned for our grief.
Yet we rarely stop to listen to what loss is trying to teach us.
Loss reminds us what mattered. It reveals the depth of our love, our hopes, and our attachments.
Painful though it may be, loss is not merely a burden to endure. It is a gift.
—VALEN’S JOURNAL
AMARA
“You did it.”
I blink. “You can’t hear me anymore?”
Thane grins. “Nope.”
I test it, thinking about how I would like to put my mouth on him right now. Watching his face, I search for any indication of him knowing how much I want him right now.
Nothing.
A small, victorious grin tugs at my lips. “I actually did it.”
“Of course you did,” Thane murmurs, his hands still resting on my thighs. “You just needed something that made sense to you.”
I let out a relieved breath.
“So that’s it?” I ask. “I just imagine the wind shifting around me and I can block you out forever?”
Thane’s grin turns sharp. “Forever?”
In one fluid, effortless motion, he sits up, pulling me closer until we’re chest to chest, his breath warm against my lips.
“That’s a little dramatic, don’t you think?”
The shift between us is too much. Too sudden. The moment our bodies align, we both inhale sharply. Thane’s mouth tightens for the briefest second.
Then he reins it in.
Just like that, his breathing is controlled again.
Mine is not.
He rolls us again, pinning me beneath him, his weight pressing me into the sheets. His chest rises sharply twice, eyes smoldering, before he locks it down again.
I glare. “Why?”
“Because I want to hear exactly what you’re thinking when I touch you.”
“Nope. I’m blocking it,” I whimper.
Thane laughs against my throat, pressing a lingering kiss there before rolling us again so that I am on top.
“Coward,” he murmurs against my neck, rolling his hips, before turning us so that I’m on top again. With him still inside me.
I gasp.
Gods, he is absolutely toying with me.
“How are you composed right now?” I ask, my voice still uneven.
Something shifts in his expression. Small. Brief. But enough for me to know he’s deciding how honest he wants to be.
“Because I have to be.”
I frown. “What does that mean?”
Thane doesn’t answer right away, his gaze drifting away from mine. His fingers continue tracing slow circles against my thighs, his grip still maddeningly sure, as though the motion itself is helping him hold on.
“It means I don’t have the luxury of losing control.”
The words are quiet, and yet the silence is deafening.
I search his face. “Not even once?”
“Not even once.”
Something inside me tightens, because I know he means it.
I don’t know why that realization unsettles me. Maybe because I’ve never known restraint like his. Maybe because he’s the only person I’ve ever met who carries himself this way, who holds himself back as though it’s the only way he knows how to survive.
He was trained for war from childhood, raised with a sword in one hand and responsibility in the other. Of course he can do this without breaking, because breaking was never an option.
But me? I was never built for control.
I purse my lips, studying him, letting the silence stretch between us.
“That doesn’t seem fair,” I murmur.
Thane raises a brow. “What doesn’t?”
“That you never get to let go.”
He scoffs softly, shaking his head. “You’re overthinking again.”
“No. I’m testing a theory.”
“What theory?”
I lean down just slightly, close enough to feel the subtle hitch in his breathing.
“If you’re actually unshakable.”
His grip tightens. Barely, but I feel it. A thrill shoots through me.
“Amara—”
“Hmm?”
“Don’t.”
I shift slightly—just enough—and his reaction is immediate. His fingers flex harder against my skin. Tension flickers along his neck before he reins it back in.
I grin, slow and wicked.
“Oh?” I purr. “Is something wrong, Lord Caelum?”
“You do not want to play this game.”
“I think I do.”
A spark flashes in his eyes, his gaze sharpening like flint striking steel. “You won’t win.”
I arch a brow. “You sound nervous.”
“I’m not.”
I trail my fingers down his chest, teasing. His muscles tighten beneath my touch, but he doesn’t move or give in.
Instead, he exhales a deliberate breath. His fingers gently squeeze my waist, holding me exactly where I am. His eyes lift to mine, unblinking and full of intent.
And just like that, I know I’m not the one in control here.
“You want me to lose control?” he murmurs, his voice rough with amusement and restraint.
My breath catches. “Yes.”
“Oh, Amara, darling.” His thumb traces lazily along my hip. “If I actually lost control, you would regret asking for it.”
My pulse stumbles while his grin widens.
“Which is why,” he adds smoothly, “I suggest you rethink your strategy.”
In a blink, he rolls us, pinning me beneath him with maddening ease. I gasp, struggling instinctively, but his weight is solid. Inescapable.
“You think control is easy for me?” he growls, his lips brushing the base of my throat.
“You think I don’t feel this just as much as you do?
” His hands slide lower, entirely too distracting.
“You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted to lose control with you.
Since the moment I saw you in that village. ”
My pulse is a war drum in my chest.
“Then do it,” I whisper. “Lose it.”
“No.” His lips graze my ear. “Because once I do, I won’t stop.”
Is that a promise? A warning? Or a glimpse of the fire—and the shadow—he keeps locked away?
Whatever it is, I want it.
All of it.
I want to see the Warlord of the Fire Clan—the man who is always composed, always controlled—finally let go.
“You think you can handle me losing control?” His voice is measured, almost effortless. But beneath it, I can feel the tension coiling like a live wire.
“Absolutely,” I breathe.
And I mean it. Whatever he’s holding back, whatever he’s afraid of, I want it.
I want him.
His eyes hold mine, hunger and restraint warring beneath the surface. And beneath both, I glimpse the cost of holding himself back.
“You’re playing with fire, Amara, darling.”
I roll my hips against him. Intentional. Merciless.
His breath hitches, and the strain in his control is impossible to miss.
“Then burn me,” I whisper. “Let go with me, Thane.”
The moment hangs suspended, taut and electric.
Then something shifts.
I watch him make a choice.
His hands pin mine above my head as he pulls me closer, the force of it stealing the breath from my lungs. His eyes lock onto mine, and for the first time, he stops holding back.
“Remember this,” he growls. “When you ache later, remember that you asked for it.”
His mouth crashes into mine—claiming as if starved for me. His hands are everywhere. Gripping. Tugging. Pulling me against him like the space between us is unbearable. Months of longing finally break free. Every stolen glance. Every interrupted moment. Every restraint.
Gone.
For this one moment, there is only us.
Still, I wonder, is he losing control with me or because of me? Or is it something deeper that’s restless, raw, clawing its way to the surface? Not just passion, but a need that has nothing to do with me and everything to do with what lives inside him.
The fire. The restraint. The shadows. The curse.
I keep my shields tight, wind coiling inward around my thoughts. I don’t want him hearing any of this. Not when he’s finally letting himself go.
A growl vibrates through his chest as he bites my lower lip, as though even the smallest distance between us has become unbearable. I arch into him instinctively, my thoughts scattering as I cling to him, needing more.
“You still want this?” he rasps.
“Yes,” I breathe. “All of it.”
His hand slides down, gripping my thighs, spreading them wider.
“Then take it.”
And by all the Elemental gods, I do.
He pulls me closer, his body surrounding mine, his breath hot and uneven against my skin. His calloused hands are firm, relentless. I rake my nails down his back, needing to leave some mark that I was here. A feral groan leaves him, and the sound sends another wave crashing through me.
My body tightens around him, pulling him deeper. His forehead drops briefly against my neck, a rough curse slipping past his lips.
“Amara—”
It isn’t a word.
It’s a prayer.
Need for me.
Need for this.
Need for us.
It builds.
Faster.
Hotter.
Relentless.
I feel it the moment he finally lets go. The moment the last of his restraint gives way, leaving nothing between us except the need he has been holding back for months. The need he has never allowed himself to indulge, never allowed himself to want this fiercely.
Every trace of control has vanished from his face, replaced by a raw, feral need that leaves me aching for him. The sensation builds, spreading through me like wildfire. I grip his hair, his shoulders, anything I can hold onto.
“Thane—” My voice breaks.
“I’ve got you,” he growls again.
And I believe him.
Pleasure crashes through me, shattering every remaining thread of control.
My entire body trembles as the Elements surge with it.
Fire crackles at my fingertips, curling harmlessly through the sheets.
Wind rushes through the room, whipping through my hair and his, wrapping around us both.
Water condenses in the air, cooling the heat of our skin in a fine mist. Beneath us, the earth hums steadily, grounding everything it touches.
Thane doesn’t flinch. He rides out the storm with me as wild, untamed magics surge through my body and spill into the bond between us.
And then shadows bloom.
Dark mist spills from his hands, curling around us in ribbons of smoke. It brushes against my skin, gentle and almost reverent. There is nothing cold or cruel about it. Instead, the magics wrap around me with a warmth that feels startlingly alive.
The bond answers, pulsing in time with it. A heat unlike anything I have ever known flares deep inside me, echoing the magics cradling us from the outside.