Page 334 of Elemental Becoming

I feel it building.

Waiting.

My nails bite into his back. I meet every movement, our bodies falling into a cadence that feels both wild and inevitable.

I’m close.

So close.

I let go.

A cry tears from my throat as sensation crashes through me. My body trembles beneath him, every muscle tightening before releasing all at once.

But Thane doesn’t stop.

He keeps moving, relentless in his pursuit of every last tremor, carrying me beyond thought and into something vast. I drift somewhere between light and shadow, breath and silence,awareness and magics.

And then I feel him lose himself. With one final thrust, he lets go.

“Amara!”

He cries out my name like a battle cry. Like I’m the only thing tethering him to this world. His body shudders above me, every muscle drawn taut as release claims him. The sound he makes is rough and unguarded, and it echoes through me long after it fades.

The shadows erupt, tendrils of black mist lashing toward the walls and ceiling. Just as suddenly, they disappear.

The rain stops. Silence settles over the room, heavy and damp. Sheets cling to the mattress. Papers curl where they’ve plastered themselves to the floor. Droplets trail down the stone walls.

Thane gently withdraws from me, and I shudder at the loss. He drops beside me with a groan, flushed and trembling, his chest rising and falling as he struggles to catch his breath.

For a moment, we simply lie there, tangled in soaked sheets, listening to the quiet drip of water all around us.

After a beat, his gaze sweeps across the room, taking in the destruction. His hair clings to his forehead. A crooked smile tugs at his lips.

“Well,” he says, his voice rough from laughter and exertion, “that’s new.”

I give him a sheepish smile, brushing wet hair from my face. “That . . . wasn’t exactly intentional.”

A chuckle escapes him as he reaches out and tucks a damp strand behind my ear. “You think?” he murmurs, amusement glinting in his eyes.

I roll my eyes, but I can’t stop the laugh that slips out.

“I think I can fix it,” I say quietly.

Thane lifts a brow but says nothing. He simply watches as Isit up, water dripping down my skin, the sheets tangled around my legs.

I close my eyes and inhale deeply, calling the air to me. It rises cool and sharp, like a breath released after being held too long. It stirs beneath my skin, gathering in my chest before dancing at my fingertips. I lift my arms, fingers spread, and guide the wind.

The breeze stirs through the room, almost alive. It sweeps across the sheets, the stone, the air itself, gathering the dampness bit by bit.

Moisture hangs suspended for a moment, cool against my skin like a passing mist. Then the wind sharpens. With a thought, I open the balcony doors, and the breeze carries it all away into the twilight.

The sheets billow before settling dry. Papers flutter, reshaping themselves into uneven piles. The heaviness lingering in the room fades, replaced by clean air and a quiet exhaustion that settles over us both.

I exhale and lower my hands.

Thane blinks, his gaze sweeping over the room, now warm, dry, and utterly transformed. His hair no longer clings to his forehead. One corner of his mouth curves upward.

“Not that I ever do, but just in case it comes up, remind me never to underestimate you,” he says with wonder threading through his voice.