Page 158 of Elemental Becoming

“You feel it too, don’t you?”

His voice is quiet, meant only for me.

I swallow hard, my fingers gripping his shoulders, trying to hold onto the certainty of him.

“Feel what?” I whisper, thinking he’s referring to the bond.

His mouth grazes the side of my head, his breath stirring loose strands of my hair.

“That you were always meant to be here,” he murmurs, “my arms around you. And yours around me.”

And gods, I forget how to breathe.

“No matter what this world expects of me, no matter what I’ve told myself . . . ”

His hand slides lower, pressing me even closer, leaving no space between us.

“I think I have been waiting for you for my whole life.” His voice softens further. “It was always going to be you, Amara.”

Gods, this man has a way with words when he finally decides to use them.

THEY’RE COMING

TWENTY-ONE

“I wonder if the Shadeheart is intentionally trying to divide us. I will look for patterns tomorrow. I knew she was clever, but this could destroy us faster than the Shadow Force attacks. If the clans start to separate, we’ll all be easy targets, even with Amara’s growingpower.”

—VALEN’S JOURNAL

AMARA

Asudden, unnatural gust tears through the ballroom, sharp and freezing, tugging violently at my dress.

And just as abruptly, it dies.

In my chest, the bond jolts sharply. At the same moment, Thane and I lock eyes.

“Virelya! They’re coming!”

Calryx’s voice rings through my mind, urgent and edged with worry. The bond between us buzzes with her anxiety—I can feel it like a pulse beneath my skin.

I’m still not used to having a dragon in my head. I don’t have time to respond.

Thane halts abruptly and I slam into his chest, my fingers instinctively tightening around his hand.

The chandeliers above flicker once.

Twice.

Then the entire room is swallowed by darkness.

My breath trips as the temperature drops, a bone-deep cold settling through the ballroom. The once-glittering hall feels like a tomb. Silent. Suffocating.

Gasps ripple through the darkness.

Followed by frantic shouting.

“Shit,” Thane mutters, his grip on my hand like iron as he scans the dark, the fire in his eyes blazing against the inky blackness.