Page 111 of Elemental Becoming

Gods, she knows me too well.

Thane releases me, stepping back, and I instantly miss his touch. He looks at me for a quiet moment, somethingunreadable moving behind his eyes.

Then he reaches out, gently taking one of the braids cascading down my back. Unhurried, he drapes it over my shoulder, letting it fall against my chest. His fingers hover for a heartbeat—just shy of touching my skin—before he finally lets go, his hand dropping back to his side.

“So,” he murmurs, ducking his head, his eyes lifting back to mine. “Lyra and Garrick are pretty serious?”

I laugh softly. “It appears so.”

“I’m not surprised.” A quiet chuckle slips from him. “He had his eye on her the moment you two arrived at the outpost.”

“Really?” I blink, genuinely caught off guard.

“Yeah.” His mouth curves into a knowing smile. “But I told him to go slow. You both were dealing with a lot.”

Something warm unfurls inside me. “It was Lyra who made the first move,” I admit. “That’s probably why.”

Thane laughs then—low, genuine, warm enough to send another wave of heat through me.

Then he extends his arm toward me. Without hesitation, I slide my hand onto his elbow, fitting easily into the curve of his body.

As we walk deeper into the ballroom, guests murmur their greetings around us, but my focus stays fixed on the feel of his skin beneath my fingertips. Somehow, this man has become the center of everything.

And I’ve only known him for a few months.

Of course, there’s also the small matter of being the Spiritborn . . . and the Shadow Forces threatening to consume the realm.

Thane’s voice pulls me from my thoughts.

“Would you like to dance?”

“Yes,” I say softly, smiling as I place my hand in his.

When I look into his smoke-gray eyes, I catch the gold flecksshifting within them. They almost seem to dance beneath the ballroom light.

He laces his fingers with mine and leads me to the dance floor. Turning me gently to face him, he places a hand against the small of my back. His palm is warm against my bare skin, and a shiver races up my spine.

“So the Warlord does dance,” I tease, recalling how he claimed it wasn’t appropriate to dance with me during the Summer Solstice.

He chuckles, glancing away for a moment. But when his eyes find mine again, they smolder, like the firelight I saw reflected there beside the bonfire that night.

Then he draws me closer until our bodies press together, and we begin to sway to the music. Around us, the orchestra softens into a distant hum, leaving only the everlasting pull between us.

“Promise me something?” Thane asks, his breath warm against my ear.

Anything.

“That depends,” I tease instead.

“Rian spoke to me about what happened at the shop.”

I tense instantly.

“Please no talk of the Shadeheart tonight,” he murmurs softly. “No war. No strategy.”

Then, he presses a gentle kiss to my neck, just beneath my ear.

A smile tugs at my mouth. “I promise.”