THIRTY-ONE #3
And I wanted it.
All of it.
The heat. The shadows. The parts of himself he keeps locked away. Because what frightened him never frightened me.
It called to me.
Thane’s eyes dim with recognition, his jaw tightening. I swallow hard, but I don’t back down. I don’t look away.
The words are out there now.
In my mind, I repeat the words that I offered this morning. A reminder and promise.
“Please, Thane. Trust that you can let go. That you won’t hurt me. That you won’t break me.”
His gaze softens—just barely—but it’s enough. A new resolve flickers in his expression. The corner of his mouth lifts.
Then he shoves me back and we’re moving again. Fast. Sharp. Sparks flying from every clash of steel and tension.
Underneath it all, that same current winds tighter and tighter.
Ready to ignite.
Thane shifts suddenly, fast enough to startle and precise enough to steal my breath. He twists our locked blades, forcing mine wide, then steps in, pivoting behind me in one fluid motion. His arm wraps around my waist, dragging me back against him.
I gasp, blade still in hand but useless, trapped between us.
I should fight his hold, but I don’t.
His other hand rises, fingers brushing the underside of my jaw. Tilting. Holding.
My heart becomes a drumbeat. My breath disappears.
Then he kisses me.
Not gently or cautiously. But like he’s been aching for this moment as long as I have.
A choice.
A trust finally given.
A fire finally let loose.
My fingers tighten on the hilt, but instead of pushing away, I lean in. The world falls quiet. All I can feel is him. His mouth. His hand on my waist. The certainty in the way he holds me.
“You let go,” I whisper in my mind, the words trembling but true.
I know he hears me because the bond tightens between us, like a breath held and shared. In answer, his kiss deepens. There’s no hesitation now or second-guessing about hurting me.
Just Thane.
All heat and hunger and something that feels perilously close to need.
His hand slides up my spine, the other still braced at my waist, anchoring me to him. Our blades drop to the ground, forgotten. I melt into the heat of his kiss, the taste of him, the wild rhythm of it.
This.
This is what’s possible when he lets go. And gods, it’s glorious.
Valen clears his throat.
Loudly.
I jolt.
Thane doesn’t move right away, his hand still warm at my waist, his lips barely parted from mine.
Then I hear it.
“Oh, don’t stop on our account,” Rian calls, absolutely grinning. He’s draped an arm over Valen’s shoulders like this is the greatest entertainment he’s had all week.
Valen, for his part, stares skyward as though praying for strength.
“I was going to let it slide,” Valen mutters. “But it’s been several seconds and I’m still standing here, so no. No, I’m not.”
Heat floods my cheeks as I stumble back a step, nearly stepping on my dropped blade. Thane steps back too. Composed, but with his jaw tight and the fire in his eyes still burning. No apology. No embarrassment. Like a wolf asked to heel. Silent. Still. One command away from ignoring it entirely.
I drag in a breath and glare at Rian. “You two have nothing better to do?”
“Not at the moment,” he says, clearly delighted. “But you looked busy. And by the way, this was supposed to be a training session.”
I blanch.
Thane chuckles. His eyes meet Rian’s as he takes a step back from me. Rian grins, his blue eyes bright with amusement.
“It’s nice to see you finally let go, brother.”
Midstep, Thane falters. Just for a heartbeat.
Then he recovers.
Rian has no idea how many meanings his words hold.
For a moment, I expect Thane to retreat behind his usual mask of control. Instead, he looks at me and smiles. Not the practiced smile he gives the court or the guarded one he wears around strangers.
A real smile.
My heart squeezes. Maybe, finally, he’s beginning to embrace all of himself.
Valen exhales hard through his nose. “By all the Elemental gods, grant me patience.”
I glance up toward the ridge where Calryx still sits, her tail thudding against the ground with slow, pointed annoyance.
She looks downright indignant.
Her wings are half-flared, her head tilted just enough to radiate judgment. If a dragon could cross her arms, she would.
But she can’t say anything. Not yet. The shield is still in place. I offer a sheepish smile and warily lower the block. The moment it’s gone, her voice snaps into my mind like a whip of wind and ice.
“I see your Warlord taught you how to block. How convenient. It would have been helpful to inform your dragon.”
She huffs a stream of hot air through her nostrils. The gust reaches all the way to the training field, stirring both mine and Thane’s hair.
Thane squints into the blast and grimaces.
“I think she’s upset with you,” he says. “Good luck.”
Rian laughs while Valen looks skyward again.
“That was supposed to be a sparring match, Virelya, not a mating display.”
I wince, barely suppressing a laugh. “Noted.”
“Next time you intend to surrender during a spar, do not pretend it’s about training,” she huffs.