Chapter 37
Chapter
Thirty-Seven
The wind clawed softly at the eaves of the Asgar Training Academy.
Thaelyn woke and could hear the faint sounds of the party in the fields.
She sat up in bed. She moved to the edge of her bed, her limbs wrapped in stillness, as though motion itself might break the fragile thread holding her together.
Moonlight spilled in a ribbon across her floor, brushing her knees and her hands. There was a fine tremble at the edge of her fingers. Her nightdress clung to her skin, damp with the weight of heat and desire she could not explain. There was no storm outside, but one brewed within her.
It had started as a hum. A subtle thrumming beneath her skin. Not pain, not fear, but something older, something elemental. It whispered in her blood, pulsing through her bones like a forgotten song. It was her dragon’s voice that warned her first.
Raise your shields tonight, little flame, Nyxariel had said in a murmur that trembled like thunder in the distance. Vornokh will not be denied his mate much longer tonight. And through him, Thorne will feel it too.
Thaelyn had tried, Gods, she had tried every technique she had learned to shut the bond down.
Meditation. Breathwork. Even that ridiculous herbal tea Iri insisted soothed everything from broken hearts to bruised egos.
None of it was working. Every time she closed her eyes, heat and shadow twined around her mind like smoke around flame.
Thorne was there, not physically, but the echo of him curled inside her chest, a smoldering presence that refused to leave.
A soft breath escaped her lips as she stood and crossed to the window, resting one palm against the glass pane. Somewhere across the campus and stone towers, he was out there. Awake. She could feel him. And in that moment, he could also feel her.
"Thaelyn."
The voice wasn’t spoken, but it trembled through her chest like a dark promise.
Her lips parted. Her breath caught. Her skin ached.
In his quarters, Thorne stood half-dressed, shirt discarded.
Moonlight painted silver across the ridges of his abdomen, his arms taut with restraint as he braced them on either side of the wash basin.
The bond howled through him. He gritted his teeth.
This is going to be another long night, he thought to himself.
He moved and sat on the edge of his bed.
Sweat was already gathering again along the lines of his chest. His breathing was uneven, shallow.
Shadows licked the corners of the chamber like restless sentries, and the air hung thick with a magic he knew he needed to try and resist.
"Can you feel that heated pull?" he said to her through the bond. "Because I feel you. I feel all of you."
She exhaled shakily, sinking back onto her bed, pulling the blankets halfway up before realizing how senseless that was.
“What’s happening?” she whispered, trembling.
"We’re not just bonded through dragons anymore. They’re pulling us toward each other. They can’t be apart for too many days. I’ve figured out now that a fortnight is all that Vornokh can stand to be away from her before he goes feral."
His hands gripped his thighs, the muscle taut beneath his fingertips.
He had tried to anchor himself to the floor, to silence, to the breath, but nothing held.
Not when she was there, behind his eyes.
Thaelyn. Her name tasted like firewine in his mouth, dangerous, burning, sweet.
Her scent lingered in his senses, wild rain, storm-touched lavender, something electric.
He could tell her shields had slipped. He had taught her how to shield against the dragon bonding when they were at the palace.
She was under his skin tonight because she didn't have her shields fully up.
“Thaelyn,” he whispered aloud, voice rough with wanting. “Are you still with me?”
He didn’t expect an answer. Not out loud. But the bond between them flared in response, an invisible thread snapping taut like the pull of a bowstring.
And then, he heard her.
She gasped, staggering back from the window as the bond surged.
Her spine straightened, a shiver racing down the ridgeline of her back.
Her lips parted. Her hands clutched the edge of the bed for support.
“Thorne–” she whispered, though the sound didn’t pass her lips.
It vibrated through the bond like a tremor in the weave of her mind.
"Were you touching me in a dream or thinking it, because I can feel it.
I was sleeping, and it woke me up It was so strong.
Now I'm wide awake." Her thoughts quivered like candlelight.
"No, I wasn’t, but now that I know you had a naughty dream about me, that’s not a bad idea," his voice smirked and then came, rich and ragged.
“This isn’t funny, Thorne. I’ve tried everything I can think of to silence it.”
“You can’t, not all the way, but I can teach you more and how to function with it so you can prepare for when it happens again.
I’m really trying to be restrained and serious over here.
You keep sending desire down the bond, making me want to lose control.
I can feel you. Gods, Thaelyn, I can feel all of you. ”
The fire beneath her skin answered. She gasped as a phantom touch, warm, deliberate, ran up her inner thigh.
Her knees parted instinctively. Her head fell back.
Her breath hitched. Her fingers curled into the blanket.
Then it began again, searing. His hand traced the arch of her hip, the hollow beneath her ribs, the inside of her thigh.
Her back arched instinctively for him. Her body was a bow drawn tight.
"Gods," she moaned into the bond.
“Thaelyn,” His voice turned rougher, velvet scorched in flame. "What are you doing? Answer me, do you want to feel this? I haven’t done anything on my own. If this is not what you want, I can teach you how to shut your own mind down and shield them out."
Her answer came as a shuddered breath. “Yes, I like the way it feels. I want you to use the bond and touch me.” And she let go. She dropped her shields completely, and the storm crashed in.
It wasn’t just sensation; it was him. His presence surged into her like lightning down a copper wire. She could see that little sly smile that he gave her when he had indecent thoughts about her. “Is this you now?”
“Yes,” he replied with a look of mischief.
She felt his weight pressing into the mattress, felt his breath at her throat, the heat of his body aligned to hers.
His fingers ghosted along her skin with reverent certainty.
Her hands moved in tandem with his imagined ones, as if inviting the illusion to become real.
"Tell me what you want," he whispered, his voice dark and low.
She whimpered, breath catching. “I want–” she faltered, cheeks burning.
“Thaelyn,” His voice growled with a low rumble through her mind. It was rough with desire. “Tell me what you want, tell me what you need. You’re so beautiful,” Thorne breathed. “Let me touch you.”
Her lips parted in shock at his forwardness, at the pulse it sent through her. She couldn’t speak.
“Don’t hide from me,” he said again, more insistent this time. “I can feel you. All of you. I feel how much you want me. Don’t be shy with me.”
She closed her eyes as a phantom touch, his hand, slid slowly up her ribs, barely grazing the curve of her breast. She whimpered, hips shifting against her sheets.
“I don’t know,” she breathed aloud, the heat flooding her cheeks.
“Then let me help you.” The sensation of his lips dragged down her stomach, not real, but real enough to make her gasp.
“I want to feel you. Take my time with you.” Thorne said through the bond, voice like smoke and thunder.
“I want to hear you beg me for what you want. Tell me where to touch you. Tell me where you ache. Direct me. Show me what you need.”
Thaelyn’s body trembled. She arched into the phantom pressure, a shiver rippling through her. “Thorne–”
“Say it, Thaelyn. Say it, and I’ll give it to you. I’ll give you everything you want.”
“I want– ” She choked on her own need. “Your hands. Your mouth. I want you to kiss me down where I ache.” Her voice cracked like lightning across the bond.
He groaned, guttural, raw, as if her words undid him. “Good Gods, Thaelyn,” he rasped. “I want to worship you. Taste you, every part of you.”
The bond surged like a tide crashing over them both. She felt his desire, his restraint fraying, his body straining as if he were physically beside her, his muscles taut, his jaw clenched.
“Touch yourself,” he whispered. “I want to feel what you feel when you do. Guide me.”
She did, tentatively at first. One hand slipped lower, and he was with her, moaning in her mind as if her hands were his own.
“That’s it,” he growled. “Let me hear that sound you make. Gods, you’re perfect.”
A wave of heat tore through her, and she cried out his name, not with shame, but with power.
Across the academy, Thorne collapsed back into his bed, sweat clinging to his skin, his eyes glowing faintly in the darkness.
“I need you,” he whispered aloud into the empty room. “And I’ll have you. When you’re ready, I won’t hold back.”
“I want more,” she said.
“Tell me then,” he growled in her mind. “Say what you want.”
“Touch me more, kiss me.”
“Where do you want it?” he pressed, voice raw.
“All over.”
“You are a naughty little thing, aren’t you?” he growled slowly. "Tell me where. I like this little game.”
“Are you seriously going to make me say it?”
“Yes. I want your every desire met. I want to worship that beautiful body of yours.”
His mouth ghosting down her neck, his fingers brushing along her ribs, trailing over the swell of her breasts. She arched into the feeling, her skin pebbling under his hands. Her hands moved without thinking, mirroring his imagined touch, trailing down her own body as though to guide him.