TWENTY-FIVE #2
I settle against him, letting the quiet of the room settle around us. His breathing eases into an even rhythm, though a lingering tension still hums beneath it. I tell myself it’s only the aftermath of everything we survived tonight.
We’ll figure it out.
Together.
Right now, all I want is to remain here in his warmth, lulled by the faint crackle of the dying fire, while the rest of the world fades beyond the shelter of his arms.
When I open my eyes, soft golden sunlight filters through the heavy curtains, slipping through the narrow gaps to cast long streaks of warmth across the room. The fire in the hearth has burned low, embers still glowing faintly beneath the ash, the scent of smoke lingering in the air.
The second thing I notice is the ache.
Not only the deep soreness from the battle. The bruises still scattered across my body or the exhaustion clinging to my muscles.
Him.
The memory of Thane’s hands on me last night. The raw hunger in the way he touched me, like there had been no room left for restraint between us. Only need.
I shift slightly and immediately feel the protest in my limbs. And then I feel him. Warm and solid at my back, the weight of his arm draped over my waist, the rhythm of his breath brushing my shoulder.
Thane.
His scent—cedar, smoke, leather, and something darker that belongs only to him—still lingers in the air, on my skin, tangled in the sheets. I turn to look at him because part of me still needs proof that last night was real.
He’s asleep, his body loose with the kind of exhaustion that comes after sex. I shift closer, curling my fingers around his bicep. His hand glides along my hip as he pulls me closer against him, even half asleep.
“Stay.”
His breath brushes my ear, voice rough with sleep, low and rich and still threaded with the exhaustion of last night.
I don’t move. Don’t even answer. Because I never want to leave.
A low hum of amusement rumbles through his chest.
“You’re thinking too loudly again.”
I freeze.
Then the realization crashes into me all over again.
The bond.
“Oh my gods,” I groan, burying my face in the pillow. “I forgot you can hear—”
“Every. Single. Thought,” Thane finishes smoothly, his voice turning dangerously amused. “Yes.”
His hand drifts lower, every intention in that movement clear. I don’t need the bond to know exactly what he wants. It’s in the way his fingers trace along my bare skin. In the possessive tightening of his grip against my hip, like he already knows I’m not leaving this bed anytime soon.
And then my thoughts slip loose before I can stop them.
Flashes of what I want—what I crave—how badly I need him. The way he looks right now, warm and naked beside me. The way I want to pull him closer. Taste him. Feel him moving inside me again.
How I ache for him.
Thane inhales sharply beside me, his entire body going still. He heard all of it.
“So last night wasn’t enough?” Thane asks, his voice low, edged with dark amusement. A slow, wicked smile curves across his lips. “I didn’t satisfy you?”
My face flames. “That’s not what I meant.”
I try to sit up, but his hand slides to my waist, holding me in place with infuriating ease.
“I can’t help what I think when you’re lying there looking all . . . ” I gesture vaguely toward his bare chest, the sharp lines of his body, the sheet doing very little to preserve his dignity.
His grin widens. “Looking all what?”
“Annoyingly attractive,” I mutter.
“Mm.” His fingers move feather-light along my waist. “And here I thought you were remembering how good I felt last night. The way you moaned my name so sweetly when I—”
“Thane,” I gasp, half warning, half plea.
His grin only deepens. “You keep thinking like that, Amara, darling, and I’m not going to be responsible for what happens next.”
I shove him, though the effort is embarrassingly weak. He catches my wrist easily, turning my hand over so his thumb can trace across my pulse.
“You need to learn how to block your mind,” he says, his voice dropping lower, the teasing edge giving way to something more heated. “Because if you don’t, I’m going to hear every thought running through that beautiful head of yours.”
His fingers drift lightly along my skin, barely there, but enough to send heat rushing through me.
“I’ll know every wicked thing you want me to do to you.” Desire sparks in his eyes. “Every. Moment. Of. The. Day.”
I swallow hard. His mouth curves against my skin, clearly enjoying himself.
“That could become a serious distraction,” he murmurs. “Especially if you’re training with me.” A pause. “Or riding Calryx.”
I swallow again. “Oh.”
Thane props himself up on one elbow, brushing his lips against my bare shoulder while his fingers skim my waist. The smirk lingers for another heartbeat before his expression shifts, turning more serious.
“Who knows who else can do this,” he murmurs. “Listen to someone’s thoughts. Speak mind to mind.”
His gaze sharpens slightly, thoughtful now. Assessing.
“I’ve never heard of anything like it before. But if we can do it . . . ” He exhales slowly, tension tightening along his jaw. “Then it’s possible someone else can too.”
Unease curls low in my stomach.
“We’ll ask Valen,” he says at last, his voice quiet but certain.
I nod, trying to process the implications. But before I can dwell on it—
“You need to block,” he murmurs, his fingers halting their exploration. “Or I won’t be able to stop myself from giving you exactly what you’re thinking about.”
I smirk, tracing a lazy circle across his chest. “You’re very full of yourself this morning.”
Thane’s lips curve with dangerous amusement, his grip tightening just enough to pull a soft breath from me.
“I have every reason to be.”
I roll my eyes, already preparing a response, but then the memory hits me without warning.
Last night.
Him carrying me to the wall. Pinning me there. The look in his eyes. The way his voice sounded against my skin. The images flash through my mind unfiltered and painfully vivid.
Heat coils low in my stomach instantly.
“Hmm.” Thane gives me that godsdamn lazy smile. “We can absolutely do that again if you want.”
I glare at him, mortified by how obviously he just heard all of that. But then another thought cuts through the embarrassment.
Why can he hear my thoughts . . . but I can’t hear his?
The realization hits like plunging into ice water. I focus on him immediately. On the bond. On listening. His eyes hold mine as I reach for something—anything.
A word. A feeling. A thought.
Nothing.
I frown. “Why is it only one way?” I murmur, mostly to myself.
Thane’s smile fades, though his fingers continue tracing absent-minded patterns along my waist.
“I was wondering when you’d notice that.”
I shift, propping myself up on one elbow. “Do you know why?”
His gaze flicks over my face, thoughtful now. “A few possibilities.”
“Like?”
His attention drifts for a moment as he thinks it through.
“I felt the bond first. Maybe you’ll start hearing my thoughts soon, the same way you began feeling the bond a few days after I did.” His thumb brushes lightly against my waist again. “It might just take time.”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe because I’ve been bonded to Xaroth for over a decade. I’ve had longer to strengthen that connection.” His fingers drum absently along my hip. “Maybe that’s why I can hear you, but you can’t hear me yet.”
“Maybe,” I admit. “But no other rider we know of has ever been able to do this with another person before, right?” I study him carefully. “So why us?”
Thane nods once, his brow furrowing.
“You’re right. Then maybe this is just another part of the bond evolving.” His gaze holds mine steadily. “We already know ours is different.”
I study him, the early sunlight slipping through the curtains and casting soft gold across the sharp lines of his face.
“Or maybe it’s because you’ve been wielding magics longer.”
His brows lift slightly. “Possibly. Magics adapt over time. It strengthens with use.” His fingers flatten along my waist. “I’ve had years to learn how to control it. Shape it. Maybe that’s giving me the advantage in this . . . for now.”
“For now,” I echo, though the uncertainty of that answer sits uneasily with me.
“We’ll ask Valen,” Thane says with confidence. “If anyone has encountered something like this before, it would be him.”
I nod, but the unease still lingers beneath my thoughts.
“Okay,” he says, his voice shifting as that low, commanding edge slips back into place. “Back to the lesson.”
I blink at him, still reeling slightly from everything we just uncovered.
“You need to learn how to block anyway,” he continues. “Because of Calryx.”
I frown. “What does Calryx have to do with this?”
Thane’s smirk returns, all too knowing.
“She feels everything, Amara, darling.”
I freeze instantly.
His grin widens.
“Like right now,” he adds. “She can’t hear every thought you’re having about me unless you intentionally connect with her through the bond, but she can absolutely sense what’s going on because of how strongly you feel.
” His eyes sparkle with amusement. “Dragons and their riders experience each other’s feelings when they’re heightened, especially fear, anger, joy, and pain. ”
He winks.
“And climax.”
My stomach drops.
Shit.
Shit.
“And,” Thane continues smoothly, sounding far too calm about my complete humiliation, “I’m fairly certain she already shielded herself from your mind, considering you still don’t know how to block.”
No.
No, no, no.
I reach for Calryx instinctively through the bond—
And slam directly into a wall.
Opalescent. Shimmering softly with the same iridescent glow as her scales. Power hums through it, ancient and unyielding.
Calryx shut me out.
I groan, burying my face in the pillow. “Oh, gods.”
Thane chuckles, smug as ever. “Plus,” he adds with a grin, “it’s rude.”
I lift my head just enough to glare at him. He laughs, the sound deep and carefree, rolling through me like a slow burn. I scrunch my nose at him before squeezing my eyes shut, forcing myself to focus.
A wall. A barrier.
Anything to stop my thoughts from spilling out.