FORTY-FIVE #3
“The Firebrand was never just about fighting. It began as a way to settle disputes, rivalries, challenges of status, or questions of leadership.”
His gaze flickers toward the water, as if tracing old memories.
“Back then, it was brutal. A fight until one challenger couldn’t stand. Sometimes until death.” He exhales through his nose. “The Fire Clan has changed, but some traditions never faded. A Firebrand is still a fight, but it’s always been about more than that. It’s a test of presence. Of will.”
He lifts his eyes back to mine.
“Anyone can train their body to throw a punch. Anyone can learn to fight. But not everyone can stand before their people bruised, exhausted, and bleeding and still command their respect.”
His voice lowers slightly, the way it does when someone is speaking from experience and not simply from tradition.
“The people watching aren’t really judging the fight itself.
They’re judging the person standing in the middle of it.
They’re asking themselves who breaks when things become difficult.
Who stands back up. Who they would trust to stand beside them when everything falls apart.
Firebrand isn’t really about defeating the person across from you.
It’s about proving that you belong. Not just to the people watching, but to yourself. ”
He studies me for a long moment, then exhales, shaking his head once more.
“And you won.”
Thane doesn’t speak again right away. He simply watches me. The flickering candlelight casts shifting shadows across his face, softening the sharp angles that usually make him look untouchable to others who don’t know him the way I do.
Then he reaches out, but not for me. For the water.
The water responds, curling toward his touch and twisting into delicate ribbons around his fingers. The feeling that follows is difficult to explain. Familiar, yet somehow new, as though the magics is reaching through the bond and finding him there.
A quiet breath leaves me. I watch the streams shift and dance around his hand, moving with an ease that feels as natural as breathing. His eyes lift to mine, silent and searching, and I find myself wondering if he feels it too.
Not the water, but the pull beneath it. The strange way my magics seem to reach for him almost as often as I do. The ribbons continue to weave through his fingers for another few seconds before his eyes widen slightly.
“Gods,” he breathes, his gaze dropping back to the water. “I can feel it.”
Wonder threads through his voice.
The moment lingers, stretching between us like something tangible and fragile. Then, as suddenly as it began, the sensation slips away. The water loses its shape and settles back into the bath.
Thane frowns, though there is a lightness in the expression, as though he is already trying to understand what just happened.
When he moves again, he reaches for me. His fingers brush against my cheek, unhurried, the touch softer than before. He isn’t checking for injuries or searching for wounds. He’s just touching me.
I feel the warmth of his skin, the callouses rough but gentle against my cheekbone, the barest hint of pressure as though he is giving me the chance to pull away. I don’t.
The water settles into stillness around us and Thane lowers his hand.
“I have to say,” he begins, amusement creeping into his voice, “that headbutt must have been impressive. Rowena said it nearly knocked out Ardyn.”
I scoff, rolling my eyes. “She’s exaggerating.”
Thane arches a brow. “Is she?”
I open my mouth to argue, but the look in his eyes tells me he already knows the whole truth.
His teasing softens, but only slightly.
“And good job keeping your shields up. I had no idea my lady was fighting my ex.”
I blink, then groan, tipping my head back against the bath’s edge. “Oh, don’t say it like that.”
“What?” He shrugs, entirely too casual. “It’s true.”
I narrow my eyes. “If you start telling people I fought your ex over you, I swear I’ll drown you.”
“Please. I’d like to see you try,” Thane chuckles, but he moves a little further away on the stone ledge.
My brows lift. “Would you?”
Before he can react, I flick my fingers, sending a sharp jet of water directly at his chest. He flinches and blinks down at his now-soaked shirt, then lifts his gaze to mine. A charged silence settles between us.
Then his grin returns, sharper this time. “Oh, you’re going to regret that.”
I barely have time to react before he dips his hand into the bath and sends a wave of water crashing over me. I shriek, spluttering as water floods over my face and shoots up my nose.
Deep laughter rolls from his chest. “You started it.”
I wipe the water from my face and blink at him. Oh, he wants to play? Fine.
I take my time, dragging my fingers through the bathwater as magics hum beneath my skin.
His smirk vanishes from his face. “Amara—”
I don’t let him finish. With a sharp flick of my wrists, I command half the bathtub’s worth of water to rise. The wave towers above us, shifting and curling as it bends effortlessly to my will.
Thane’s eyes widen. “Wait—”
Too late. I send it crashing straight into him. Water slams into his chest, drenches him from head to toe, and spills over the sides of the bath in every direction. Thane lets out a sharp, thoroughly undignified noise before blinking through the water streaming down his face.
I bite my lip, trying—failing—not to laugh. His expression is priceless.
He drags a hand down his face, flicking excess water from his fingers before fixing me with a look of pure, unfiltered disbelief.
“You cheated.”
I grin, unrepentant. “I improvised.”
“You used magics!”
“It’s not my fault you’re at a disadvantage.”
His eyes narrow, as though he’s genuinely considering launching himself into the bath just to prove a point. The look in his eyes is my only warning. I squeal when he lunges, laughing as I throw up a water shield, blocking him before he can retaliate.
The shield lasts all of three seconds.
A sharp pulse of fire slices through it, sending the water splashing harmlessly back into the bath. Steam hisses into the air where water meets flame, curling upward in pale ribbons before quickly dissipating.
Before I can summon another shield, he catches me around the waist and lifts me clean out of the bath.
His clothes are dripping with water, and my naked body is pressed against his, slick and warm.
I can feel every hardened muscle beneath his soaked shirt, the beautiful beat of his heart beneath my cheek.
When he reaches the bed, he lowers me onto the blankets with surprising care, as though I might still break despite everything I put Ardyn through this afternoon.
His eyes find mine, smoke-gray and molten in the low light.
“You have a way of surprising me, again and again,” he murmurs, his voice full of awe.
His weight settles over mine, delicious and solid. His soaked clothes brush against my skin as he moves, the cool fabric a sharp contrast to the heat of his hands and the unhurried path of his mouth along my throat.
“Thane,” I whisper, arching into him.
I don’t care that we’re both dripping water onto the sheets. I don’t care about anything except the way he touches me, or the way he looks at me as though I am the only thing in the world worth seeing.
His hand slides down my side with aching slowness, and for a moment I lose myself in the feeling of him. Before I can reach for his pants, Thane hesitates.
He shifts back slightly, propping himself up on one arm as his gaze drifts over the bruises scattered across my skin. The marks Ardyn left behind are already fading, but they are still there. Concern softens his expression.
“Are you in pain?”
Instead of answering, I reach up and thread my fingers through his damp hair, drawing him back down to me. He tastes like heat and hunger.
“I want you,” I breathe. “Now.”
His breath shudders. For a moment, he simply looks at me, as though searching for something in my face. Then his hand cups my cheek.
“I’m yours,” he says quietly.
I can’t wait for him to take off his clothes. So I do it for him.
With a thought and a flicker of heat, his soaked clothes vanish in a flash of elemental fire before reappearing in a damp pile on the floor. Thane freezes, blinking down at himself, water still dripping from his hair. When his eyes meet mine, a wicked smile curves his lips.
“Impatient, are we?”
I smile back. “Very.”
I let my hands drift across his bare skin, tracing the lines of muscle beneath my fingertips.
“Gods, look at you,” I remark as my eyes travel across his broad shoulders.
His eyes darken. The reaction sends a pulse of satisfaction through me. But more than anything, I want to look at him.
All of him.
I shift out from beneath him, my body brushing against his as I rise from the bed. Surprise flashes briefly across his face, but he doesn’t stop me. Barefoot, I step into the soft glow of the room.
When I turn back toward him, he is watching me with an intensity that makes my pulse quicken.
I reach out my hand.
His gaze drops to it briefly before he threads his fingers through mine and allows me to pull him to his feet. He rises without resistance, towering over me, all shadows and firelight and quiet strength.
For so much of our relationship, Thane has been the one leading, the one guiding, the one standing between me and whatever danger waits ahead.
But not tonight. Tonight, I’m leading.