Page 190 of Elemental Becoming

Us.

And gods, it’s messy and desperate and far from gentle, but maybe that’s the only way either of us knows how to feel right now.

Primal.

Visceral.

True.

The storm inside me finally breaks. Magics surge through my veins, wild and untamed, racing toward release.

The fire in the hearth blazes higher, flames twisting wildly as the power inside me spills free. The candles flare bright enough to swallow every shadow in the room.

And then—I glow.

Golden light spills across my skin from the inside out, racing over every inch of me while my flesh remains cool beneath the fire burning through my veins.

Sweat slicks both of our bodies as the storm rages around us, wind and rain wrapping through the room while the Elements surge wildly in response.

Thane’s gaze locks onto mine, utterly captivated.

“By the gods,” he breathes. “You’re magnificent.”

I cry out again, my nails digging into his back as wave after wave crashes through me, the storm mirroring every pulse of pleasure, every snap of release. Thane holds me through it, his arms strong, his lips finding mine as the room trembles with wind, rain, and magics.

Eventually, the storm begins to quiet. The golden glow beneath my skin fades. The fire settles lower in the hearth.

But Thane still refuses to let me go. He keeps holding me close, breathing hard against my skin as though neither of us is ready for the moment to end.

When my body finally relaxes, Thane begins to move again. Slow at first, then deeper, stronger, each thrust pushing me higher, dragging me along with him. I tighten around him, and he groans deeply.

He throbs inside me and I can feel the moment his control slips. A low, broken moan escapes his lips as he thrusts once more, burying himself deep, his release spilling inside me. His entire body shudders against mine, the sheer force of it stealing his breath, shaking him, owning him.

His forehead drops to my shoulder, his chest heaving, his breath hot against my skin. I shiver, the heat of his exhale ghosting over my damp skin.

For a long moment, neither of us moves, caught in the aftershocks of everything we just unleashed. Around us, only the crackle of the fire and our uneven breathing remain.

Thane brushes my sweat-damp hair back from my face, eyes still hooded with desire.

“That was . . . ” His voice roughens. “Gods, Amara . . . ”

A soft laugh escapes me, the lingering hum of magics still warm beneath my skin.

“Everything,” I whisper.

For one suspended moment, the war beyond these walls ceases to exist. There is no council. No Shadow Forces. No bloodstaining marble floors.

Only us.

His gaze softens further as he eases me gently away from the wall, handling me with a tenderness that makes my chest ache.

“Come to bed,” he murmurs.

I rest my head against his shoulder as he carries me across the room. The sheets feel cool against my overheated skin when he settles me there, but the chill never lasts long. Thane slides in beside me almost immediately, gathering me close until I am wrapped securely in the warmth of his body.

THE SHAPE OF AIR

TWENTY-FIVE