Chapter 19 #5
I let out a breathless laugh, still reeling. Still trembling from the aftershocks of magics and pleasure. My fingers trail up his chest, over the hard planes of muscle, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath.
“That’s because you took forever to make a move.” I tease. “So I’ve been a bit pent up.”
Thane’s smirk deepens, his hands roaming again.
His lips graze my jaw. “I guess I’ve got to make up for lost time.”
He shifts—grips my hips—and then—hooks both of my legs over his shoulders. His hands brace on either side of my head, his fierce gaze locking on mine.
And then—he drives into me. So deep I swear I see stars.
“Oh gods,” I gasp, my fingers twisting into the blanket, my body trembling from the shock of pleasure.
My body tightens like a forge sealing around flame.
“Fuck, Amara,” he growls.
His muscles flex beneath my hands as he thrusts again. And again. Each movement claiming more of me until all I can do is hold on.
The pleasure doesn’t crest this time—it detonates. A fusion of fire and flesh, power and want. I don’t rise—I ignite.
And gods help me, I take him with me.
A ragged sound escapes him, deep and raw. His body tenses, an arm pulling me closer like I’m the only thing tethering him to this world.
Release tears through him in shuddering waves. He buries himself deep, chest heaving, forehead pressed to mine as we ride the storm together.
For a long moment, we just breathe. Our bodies still tangled, heartbeats still racing, as the last flickers of magics and heat fade between us.
Thane lifts his head, breath still uneven, and slowly, carefully, eases out of me. His eyes find mine—and the look he gives me? It’s not just satisfaction. It’s possession. A quiet, burning certainty that this—us—is far from over.
Like he’s already claimed every part of me, body and soul.
Thane holds me close as he rolls onto his back. My head rests on his chest, nestled in the crook of his shoulder, my fingers absently tracing the carved lines across his stomach. His arm is wrapped around me, his hand moving in lazy, idle patterns along my back.
He’s tracing my tattoos. His fingertip follows the lines, light and slow, like he’s committing each Elemental shape to memory.
The evening settles around us, the warm air wrapping close. Sounds of the lagoon fill the silence—the distant croak of frogs, the soft rustling of unseen creatures moving through the trees, the rhythmic lapping of water against the shore.
Everything feels quiet. Safe. Even the air seems to know not to intrude.
“That was . . . ” Thane pauses, dragging his thumb along my spine, searching for the word. “ . . . intense,” he says. I can hear the smile in his voice.
I blink, my mind still hazy, floating somewhere between exhaustion and the lingering heat of his touch.
I tilt my head, glancing up at him. “The sex or the magics?”
His fingers press a little firmer against my skin. “Both.”
I still, suddenly more awake. I know what he’s talking about. The fire. The wind. The way my magics surged, unrestrained.
I swallow, shifting against him. “I wasn’t trying to make it happen.”
Thane hums—low, thoughtful. “Didn’t seem like the kind of thing you could stop.”
I breathe in deep, letting that sink in. He’s right. I couldn’t have stopped it if I tried.
His fingers trace the base of my spine, slow, grounding. “Felt different each time. Like the Elements knew what you needed before you did.”
I nod, my throat suddenly tight. “It was.”
He doesn’t press further, doesn’t ask questions. He just lets it hang between us, his touch gentle, steady, reassuring.
And then, after a long stretch of silence, “It was beautiful.”
My heart trips—I wasn’t expecting that.
He props himself up on one elbow, looking down at me, hair mussed, eyes still lazy with contentment.
“Are you hungry?”
I drink in his face—so close. So ridiculously beautiful.
I smile. “Yes.”
He grins, the corner of his mouth tilting with that familiar, dry charm. “Good. Because I went through all this trouble to romance you . . . ” A beat. “ . . . I was planning something slow and subtle, but you clearly had other ideas.” He grins. “I don’t want all this delicious food to go to waste.”
I smack his chest, laughing. He leans in and presses a soft kiss to the tip of my nose.
And gods—I know I’m in trouble.
We eventually find the will to move—mostly because Thane insists we’re not letting perfectly good food go cold after I so rudely “pounced” on him.
It’s evening now, the sky gone dark, the stars scattered across a deep indigo sky. The soft, rhythmic croak of frogs drifts from the lagoon, blending with the hush of the breeze through the trees.
Thane has four small orbs of fire suspended in the air around us, casting a warm golden glow over the remains of our picnic. The light flickers against his skin, catching in his eyes, painting the world in warmth and shadow.
He’s back in his pants now, barefoot like me, hair still tousled, mouth still smug. I’m wearing his tunic, the collar loose, the hem brushing mid-thigh. It smells like him.
Smoke. Cedar. Heat.
And I have no intention of giving it back.
We sit on the blanket, legs brushing, fingers grazing as we slowly eat. Everything is simple. Thoughtful. He packed fresh bread, soft cheese, dried fruit, even a bottle of chilled wine he must’ve enchanted to stay cool.
“You really planned this?” I murmur, taking a bite of sweet plum, juice sticky on my fingers.
Thane leans back on one arm, watching me. “Of course I did. I told you—I was trying to romance you.”
“I thought the plan was to seduce and conquer.”
His mouth curves into that lazy, half-smile. “Only if the romance failed.”
I laugh softly, brushing a curl away from my cheek. The fireflies have returned, drifting lazily above the lagoon. The night is warm, quiet, full of all the little sounds that feel impossibly distant from war.
For a while, we just eat in silence. Not awkward—just comfortable. Still reverberating with what just happened.
Then, his voice—softer than before: “You were afraid it would hurt me.”
I glance at him.
Eyes down, Thane picks at a piece of bread.
I know what he’s referring to. Not just the moment. Not just the magics. But the way it happened. When I broke open, and the elements surged with me—my magics stirred as if I was purposely wielding.
It seems as though any time I experience emotions fiercely—pleasure, pain, fear, love—my magics responds. It just . . . happened. Rising with me. Breaking with me. Becoming me.
“It’s like they’re tied to my feelings,” I murmur, more to myself than to him.
Thane looks up then. He reaches for the glass of wine beside him, lifting it with that same effortless grace he carries into battle, and takes a slow sip. His eyes never leave mine.
Then, quietly— “That makes sense.”
I lift my head slightly, meeting his gaze. “Why?”
“Because your power isn’t separate from who you are.” A pause. “It’s not something to control. It’s something to trust.”
I nod slowly. “I didn’t want to lose control. Not with you . . . not like last time.”
I see it again—the blast, the chaos, the way the earth cracked open beneath me.
The way Thane’s knees nearly buckled. Even with all the protective enchantments, even with the wards strung across the magics training ground, even with Thane—the Warlord and most powerful fire wielder—my magics got through.
And they hurt him.
“You didn’t,” he says without hesitation. “You gave in. There’s a difference.”
Then, softer, “That day . . . when your Elemental powers merged,” he says, voice low, even, “did you think I was afraid for myself?”
My breath hitches. I don’t answer.
He leans, eyes locked on mine. “I wasn’t.” A beat. “I was afraid for you.”
The words land heavy with truth.
“You looked terrified—not of what you’d done. Not really. I knew you were afraid of what it meant. Of what you believed it made you.”
Then—quietly, without ceremony—he reaches out and pulls me closer, settling me back against his chest. His arms circle my waist and I sink into his warmth.
“You know,” I say softly, my gaze resting on the stillness of the lagoon. “I was mad at you that day.”
“I know.” A pause. His chest rises and falls beneath me. “I was jealous. And I let that influence me. But then I saw it—the Elemental powers building in you, so I pushed.”
His voice is steady, but there’s something heavier beneath it.
“You needed to know what you were capable of. I’m just . . . sorry I did it that way.”
I listen to his confession, and I can’t lie—there’s a flicker of heat in my chest. Not anger . . . not really. Just a pressure. A knot that’s been sitting there, quiet and heavy, waiting to be acknowledged.
Because I understand. I do.
He was jealous. He pushed me. And it worked.
I exhale slowly, watching the fireflies drift across the lagoon—their glow soft and slow, like the night is trying to soothe something raw inside me.
“I understand why you did it,” I say quietly. “But that doesn’t mean it didn’t sting.”
His arms stay around me, steady, giving me the space to say what has been weighing on me for days.
“And yes, I was scared that day,” I say quietly. “Not just of what happened—but of what it meant.”
A pause.
“And yeah . . . right now, I’m still a little mad at you—for letting your emotions into the training ring.”
I tilt my head back, resting it against his shoulder. “But looking back . . . maybe I wouldn’t have done it without that push.”
I feel his breath near my ear.
“I’m still a little mad.” My lips twitch. “But I’m not holding it against you.”
He presses a soft kiss to the top of my head. “I appreciate you not holding it against me.”
His voice is low, wrapped in something almost tender . . . and dangerous. “But here’s the deal.”
Another kiss, feather-light against my hairline.
“I can’t promise my emotions won’t bleed into the ring again,” he says quietly. “I care about you too damn much to stand there like a statue while you’re in danger.”
He presses another kiss to my temple—gentle, but full of fire.
“If anything ever tries to hurt you . . . ” A beat. “I will burn it to the ground.”
He shifts slightly, his arms tightening around me.
“But I can promise I won’t let jealousy get in the way again.”
A beat.
“Especially now that you’re mine,” he breathes into my ear.
He says it is like a vow. And I can’t stop the smile that spreads across my face.
“Deal,” I say, voice soft, but sure.
We sit like that for a moment—still on the blanket, legs tangled, the remnants of food and half-full wine glasses scattered around us. The fireflies drift. The lagoon ripples soft in the distance.
And then—his voice, near my ear, soft enough to break me: “And your magics merging . . . it didn’t make you a monster, Amara.”
A pause. His arms tighten slightly.
“It made you powerful.”