Tamed

Chapter Fifteen #2

"I wanted to train you," he said at last. "I asked Nareen because I saw what you were capable of and I couldn't watch from the sidelines while you burned yourself out for people who only wanted to see you fail."

The words settled over her, heavy with meaning that went beyond instruction manuals and proper form. He'd watched her. Cared whether she succeeded or destroyed herself trying. That wasn't simple duty. That wasn't professional distance.

That was something else entirely.

"Is that all it was?" Her voice came out quieter than she intended. "Training?"

Auren went very still. She watched the muscles in his jaw work, watched his hand curl into a fist at his side—tight enough that his knuckles went white. Like he was physically restraining himself from reaching for her.

"No," he said finally, unable to meet her eyes. "It wasn't."

Something broke inside of her. All the careful distance she’d maintained, all the reasons she'd told herself this was nothing—they shattered in the face of what he'd just admitted. He'd chosen her. Not because he had to. Because he couldn't stand not to.

She knew she should walk away. This was her instructor, this was impossible, this would only end badly, but in that moment common sense didn’t matter.

She didn’t know who closed the distance first, if her hands were pulling or if his were already there. One moment there was air between them, the next he was everywhere.

His fingers tangled in the fabric at her waist. His breath ghosted across her cheek. The moment before contact stretched impossibly long, like even gravity had gone still.

And then—

Their mouths collided.

It wasn’t tentative. There was no slow discovery, no testing the edge.

It was a crash. All fire and fury and pent-up denial.

Her back hit the wall with a thud that echoed across the quiet room, and he followed, crowding her in with the weight of something that felt inevitable.

His hand braced beside her head. The other found her hip, anchoring her like he thought she might vanish.

Cassara’s hands twisted in the front of his shirt, dragging him closer. She didn’t care how rough it felt. Didn’t care how breathless she already was. All that mattered was that he was finally kissing her like all the times he hadn’t had cost him.

His lips moved against hers with quiet desperation, not sloppy but sure, like he’d imagined this too many times to get it wrong. She opened to him without thinking, without planning, a sound catching in her throat as his mouth deepened against hers and her knees nearly gave out.

He caught her.

Not with tenderness. With strength. A hand under her thigh, hitching her leg up around his hip so he could press even closer, her body fitting to his like muscle memory. She could feel the hard line of his control breaking under the way she kissed him back, mouth greedy, reckless, hungry.

Auren pulled away just enough to look at her, their breath mingling in the narrow space between.

“I didn’t—” he said roughly, voice frayed. “Not like this.”

“Then stop,” she breathed.

But he didn’t.

He kissed her again, harder.

And she let him.

Her fingers slid up the back of his neck tangling in his hair.

He made a low sound at the contact, like even that small softness undid him.

His hand gripped her tighter, fingers spreading across her ribs.

She felt his thumb move, achingly slow, sweeping just under the curve of her breast but not quite touching.

Like even now, he was holding himself back.

And gods, she hated how badly she wanted more.

She tilted her hips forward and felt him tense.

He broke the kiss, just barely, lips brushing hers as he spoke.

“We shouldn’t.”

“I know.”

“But I want to.”

“So do I.”

He groaned softly against her mouth, half curse, half prayer, and captured her lips again, gentler this time, but no less intense. Like he needed her, like she was the only thing keeping him grounded.

Until the sound of footsteps echoed faintly in the corridor outside.

They both froze.

The noise was distant, unhurried, someone passing by, or maybe approaching, the rhythm just steady enough to send a jolt of reality back into the air between them.

Cassara shifted.

Not much. Just enough to turn her face slightly, the edge of her jaw brushing his.

Her leg slid back down from his hip and the sharp press of her body against his began to ease.

Her hand slipped from his hair, fingers skimming his shoulder on the way down, but she didn’t move far.

She couldn’t. His arm was still braced beside her head, the wall firm at her back.

Auren didn’t move immediately. His forehead still rested against hers. His breath was ragged. His hand lingered too long at her waist before finally falling away.

Cassara’s pulse thundered in her ears. Not from fear, or shame, but from the jagged awareness of what they’d just done. What they might have done if the hallway had stayed silent a moment longer.

Her skin still burned where he touched her. Her lips were swollen, her body ached, not with pain but with the slow, unbearable retreat of something she hadn’t been ready to let go of.

And beneath it all, beneath the heat, the hunger, the thunder in her blood, was a sharp, startling spike of self-consciousness.

What had she just done?

What had they just done?

“I should go.”

Auren finally lifted his head. His face was unreadable again, but his eyes still held that same wild, fractured heat. He nodded once, like that was the only answer he trusted himself to give.

Cassara waited until he stepped back, until the pressure of his body and the press of his arm were no longer keeping her there, before she slid past him toward the door.

She didn’t run. Didn’t rush. But the moment her hand found the handle, she realized she’d left her training gear rumpled, her braid half-loosened, her shirt tugged unevenly along her ribs.

She didn’t fix it.

She walked out anyway.

And Auren didn’t follow.

Cassara didn’t remember the walk back.

Not the turns she took, not the stairs, not the students she passed, if there were any. Her limbs moved on instinct, muscle memory guiding her.

She only knew that she couldn’t stop, because if she stopped, she might turn around.

The moment she reached her dormitory floor, she slipped into the nearest empty alcove beside the common room and leaned back hard against the wall, hand pressed over her mouth like it might trap the breath still shivering out of her lungs.

Gods.

Her pulse hadn’t calmed. Her body still buzzed. Every inch of her skin felt hypersensitive, like it remembered his touch too well. She could still taste him. Still feel the drag of his mouth, the heat of his hand on her waist, the way his voice had sounded when he said he wanted her.

She squeezed her eyes shut, head thudding gently against the stone.

What did you just do?

It hadn’t meant anything.

It was adrenaline.

Residual heat.

The tail end of an argument that had no place in her life right now.

She kissed him because she was angry and tired. Because she wanted to prove something, to him, to herself, to every part of her that had started to crave the weight of his presence each morning and hadn’t known how to name it.

That was all.

It had nothing to do with the way he said her name with meaning.

Nothing to do with how steady he always felt, even when everything else was chaos or how he looked at her like she was fire worth getting burned for.

Cassara pushed off the wall, fingers tightening into fists.

Impulse. That’s all it was.

He kissed her back, sure, but he hadn’t asked for any of it. And neither had she. It just… happened. The way lightning struck when the air got too heavy.

A one-time thing.

A mistake.

So why did her legs keep wanting to turn back?

She paced halfway down the hall before catching herself, teeth clenched, eyes wild, and pivoted, slamming herself through the door to her dorm without stopping to consider who might be there.

Everyone, naturally.

Talia glanced up from her desk. Liri looked up from her essay, parchment and reference books scattered around her in careful disorder.

“Everything okay?” Liri asked.

“Fine,” Cassara muttered, brushing past them and vanishing into her sleeping alcove. The curtain snapped shut behind her.

She sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the wall, and pulled the tie from her braid with fingers that trembled just slightly.

It didn’t mean anything.

She was just tired. She was just…

Her lips parted on a shallow breath.

It meant everything.

She pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes, willing the feeling away.

This wasn’t just about them. Auren was an instructor, even if he wasn’t much older than some of the upper years. If anyone saw them… if anyone even suspected…

Nareen would remove him from teaching. The academy would question every assessment he’d given her, every skill she’d earned. They’d call it favoritism, manipulation, a breach of trust. Everything she’d worked for would be tainted. And Auren? He’d lose what little he had left.

All because she couldn’t control herself.

And still, traitor that she was, every part of her wanted to go back.

As she lowered her hands, her gaze caught on the edge of her mother’s journal peeking out from beneath her pillow. The worn leather corner seemed to watch her, a silent witness to her turmoil. She brushed her fingers over it, remembering the words she’d read just days ago.

Some days I wake up and the weight of what I’m supposed to be settles in before my feet even touch the floor.

Her mother had written that, the Iron Songbird, the untouchable legend, confessing doubts no one else had been allowed to see. Had she ever felt like this? Caught between what she should want and what she did want?

One step. One hour. One breath at a time. That’s all I can promise.

Cassara withdrew her hand. One breath at a time. Right now, she couldn’t even manage that without feeling Auren’s lips on hers again.

She stood abruptly, tucking the journal deeper under her pillow. She couldn’t afford to be this distracted. Not with the Wildes expedition approaching. Not with her father’s ultimatum hanging over her.

Not with the taste of Auren still on her tongue.

She needed air.

She needed distance.

She needed to move.

The upper training deck was quieter than the main grounds, the sound of combat and chatter fading into wind and distance as Cassara stepped into the open space.

The sun had dipped low, casting long shadows across the wide floor.

Lanterns hadn’t been lit yet, but mage-lights flickered faintly at the four corners, catching the thin sheen of moisture on the stone.

She spotted Gideon near the far edge, stretching out one shoulder, coat shrugged off and folded beside his gear. He looked up at her approach.

“You’re late.”

“By two minutes.”

He gave her a look. “That’s late.”

She rolled her shoulders. “Then let’s not waste more time.”

They squared off in silence.

There was no warmup, no banter, just Cassara sinking into stance, her movements sharp and controlled. Every strike came faster than it should’ve, each dodge more forceful than needed.

Gideon blocked her next blow, and this time he didn’t let her reset. He held the contact longer, forcing her to meet his gaze.

“You’re not here,” he said.

She yanked back. “I’m right in front of you.”

“You’re somewhere, but it’s not here.”

“I’m just focused.”

“No. You’re distracted and angry.”

Cassara stepped back, raising her fists again. “Maybe I have a lot to be angry about.”

He didn’t take the bait. “Did I do something? Or did someone else?”

She hated how steady he sounded. How much more it made her want to hit something.

Gideon shifted forward, pressing the rhythm harder this time. Not cruelly, but with purpose. He struck low, swept wide, forcing her to think.

“Again,” he said, and it wasn’t a suggestion.

Cassara came at him fast. He blocked. She pivoted. He caught her wrist.

“Your form’s slipping.”

“I don’t need commentary.”

“You do when your balance is off.”

Their eyes locked.

“I meant it,” he said, voice low. “When I offered to help. You don’t have to punish yourself just because you missed a few drills.”

She wrenched her arm free, taking two quick steps back.

“I’m not punishing myself.”

Gideon tilted his head slightly. “Then what are you doing?”

She opened her mouth and promptly closed it again. She didn’t have an answer. Not one she could say out loud.

Not I kissed someone I shouldn’t have.

Not I can still feel his hands.

Not I came here because if I didn’t move, I’d go back to him.

“I don’t need this right now,” she said, too quickly.

“Cassara.”

“I said I’m fine.”

Gideon took a step back, frustration flickering across his features. “Fine? The Wildes expedition is in less than two weeks, and you think you’re fine?” His voice lowered, almost concerned beneath the irritation. “You’re not the only one with something to prove out there. We all need to be ready.”

The mention of the Wildes sent a jolt through her system, another obligation, another expectation, another test she couldn’t afford to fail. It momentarily cut through the fog of Auren still clouding her thoughts.

She turned away like she could outrun the heat still rising in her chest.

But she knew Gideon was still watching her, and gods help her, a part of her was glad.