Page 129 of Shadows Found


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Mouse lifts his head from where he’s curled against my shins, blinks slow violet eyes at the scene, then settles again — tail flicking in what looks a lot like approval.

Traitor.

I should move. I should pull away. I should—

A small, frustrated sound slips out of me instead.

Too many days.

Too many nights freezing, fighting, running. Too many moments replaying the hot spring in my head — Finn’s hands, Malrik’s mouth, the way they took me apart between them. Too much tension coiled under my skin with nowhere to go.

I’ve been wound tight for days. Aching. Wanting. And now there’s a warm body pressed against mine, and I’m too tired to pretend I don’t feel it.

My hips shift before I can think. Just a little. Just enough to ease pressure.

Except easing anything is a lie.

Darian makes a sound — low, rough, unguarded. His fingers flex on my waist.

I go still.

His breath hitches against the back of my neck. And he’s—

Oh gods.

He’s hard.

It’s not intentional. He’s still asleep. His breathing is slow and uneven in the way people breathe when dreaming. But his hips have molded to mine, and he’s warm everywhere, and I—

I should stop.

I don’t.

I roll my hips back again, slower this time, deliberate in a way that only happens when I’m too tired to lie to myself.

A sharp exhale ghosts over my neck.

The arm around my waist tightens — reflex, not choice.

“Kaia…” Barely a whisper. Barely awake. Broken at the edges.

Something hot coils low in my stomach.

The bond sparks — once, bright enough I almost gasp. Shadows stir around us. Patricia’s notebook flickers like she’s scribbling frantic commentary in her sleep. Bob’s posture shifts, not disapproving — watching.

I should stop.

I push back again instead.

This time, the sound he makes is wrecked. Uncontrolled. Pure instinct.

His hand slides — slow, hesitant — up the line of my stomach, fingers curling as if asking a question he doesn’t dare voice.

His nose brushes the shell of my ear. His breath stutters like it hurts to want.

I bite my lip. Hard.

Months of tension unravel in the space of a heartbeat.