Page 328 of Elemental Becoming

“Impatient, are we?”

I smile back. “Very.”

I let my hands drift across his bare skin, tracing the lines of muscle beneath my fingertips.

“Gods, look at you,” I remark as my eyes travel across his broad shoulders.

His eyes darken. The reaction sends a pulse of satisfaction through me. But more than anything, I want to look at him.

Allof him.

I shift out from beneath him, my body brushing against his as I rise from the bed. Surprise flashes briefly across his face, but he doesn’t stop me. Barefoot, I step into the soft glow of the room.

When I turn back toward him, he is watching me with an intensity that makes my pulse quicken.

I reach out my hand.

His gaze drops to it briefly before he threads his fingers through mine and allows me to pull him to his feet. He rises without resistance, towering over me, all shadows and firelight and quiet strength.

For so much of our relationship, Thane has been the one leading, the one guiding, the one standing between me and whatever danger waits ahead.

But not tonight. Tonight, I’m leading.

A WONDER

FORTY-SIX

Rarely does anything good come from mere reaction. Reactions can be predicted—controlled, even manipulated. But when we learn to master our own responses, we gain control not only over our nervous systems, but over our magics as well. That inner stillness—peace of mind—is more than calm. It’s power. Power over those who would unsettle us . . . or uncover what we would keep hidden.

—VALEN’S JOURNAL

AMARA

My gaze drags over him, shameless and unabashed. The cut of his jaw. The power in his stance. The way his chest rises and falls, controlled, but barely. Like even his breath is waiting on me.

A hint of confusion crosses his face when I release his hand and step back.

“I want to look at you,” I admit.

Surprise flickers across his face, quickly replaced by something darker. Hotter.

“Then look,” he murmurs.

So I do. Boldly. Unapologetically. Like he’s mine to study. Mine to remember.

I circle him, letting my eyes roam every scar, every line of muscle, every place my hands have been and every place they will be. He turns his head slightly, watching me over his shoulder like he’s unsure whether he’s being worshipped or hunted.

Maybe both.

I stop behind him, close enough to feel the heat rolling from his skin, and trail my fingers down his spine. Feather-light. He shivers.

“You’re beautiful,” I say. Not because he needs to hear it, but because I need to say it.

When he turns back to face me, his eyes have gone darker, as though the words struck somewhere vulnerable. The bond pulses between us, deep and sure, like it’s breathing through us both.

“Yours,” he says softly.

I step closer until there’s nothing between us and place my hand over his heart. It beats beneath my palm, strong and familiar. Even when everything else felt uncertain, his heartbeatnever did.