The Commander mounted Razorth and rose effortlessly into theair. The sky came alive. Dragons launched, one by one. Nyxariel and Vornokh spiraled together as before, moving in practiced tandem. Kaeroth’s fire trailed through the upper arcs. Vaelion banked clean and sharp around Tarken. Mirra veiled in and out of visibility, Sorren and Vaeryn moving like one mind. Razarok and Skael flew with eerie synchronization.
The formations shifted. Commander Dareth flew above them all, issuing orders midair. “Drop tier, invert roll, and tighten flanks! Rowan, correct your tail swing. Thaelyn, lead the final arc!”
She surged forward with Thorne on her right, wind blasting her braid loose again. She laughed, fierce and full, and felt his presence beside her like a pulse. Together, they dove through the final ring, spiraled, and leveled. When the dragons landed, breath steaming, scales glittering, Caelira raised both arms.
“Well done. Again tomorrow. Dismissed.”
The field emptied slowly, cadets peeling off toward the mess hall or weapons court. Thorne stood beside her, brushing wind-tangled strands from her cheek.
“You flew like you were born in the clouds.”
She smiled. “You keep showing up beside me. Maybe you were meant to follow.”
He chuckled. “Not follow. Lead or Match.”
Garric called across the field. “Thorne! Training match in the ring?”
“In a minute,” Thorne called back, eyes still on Thaelyn. “I’ll catch up.”
He turned back to her. “Walk with me?”
She nodded. They strolled in easy silence, the flying field behind them, the mountains rising ahead. Side by side, again. He put his arm around her waist. This time, there was no hiding it. Not from the dragons. Not from the cadets. Not from each other.
After Thorne’s sparring match, Thaelyn went outside and waited for him. Thorne arrived minutes later, silent and watchful. His hair was still damp. A cut on his knuckle still bled. Neither said anything at first.
“You didn’t look at me the whole time,” she finally said.
“If I had,” he rasped, stepping closer, “I wouldn’t have made it through training without losing control.”
“You seemed perfectly in control when you were slamming Brynnek into the wall.”
“He said something about you.” A pause. “I lost it.”
Thaelyn swallowed. “What did he say?”
“That I am looking distracted. That I probably had someone under me last night, moaning, ” He cut himself off, jaw locking. “I didn’t want you to hear it.”
She stepped closer, staring up at him. “And if I did?”
Thorne’s pupils dilated, and the bond flared to life between them again,that ache, that heat.
“Thaelyn,” he said, voice low, dark, and shaking, “I meant what I said last night. I want everything. Not just your body. I want it all. Your anger. Your fire. Your mind. The way you breathe my name when I… ” He stopped, chest heaving.
She was already moving, closing the distance, hands on his chest, mouth hovering near his.
“Say it again,” she whispered. “Say you want me.”
“I want you.” He gripped her hips, anchoring her to him, forehead pressed to hers. Her hands tangled in his hair. His mouth dropped to her jaw, her throat, grazing lower with maddening control.
“I am trying very hard to be good, but if you push me one more inch, I will pin you to the nearest wall and show you exactly how dark my patience runs,” he rasped, voice broken with need.
Thaelyn’s breath shuddered. “So stop talking and let’s get out of here.”
A heartbeat of stillness passed, then they were moving quickly, his hand grasping hers as they cut along the lower path back to the dormitories. Every step was silent and fevered.
She couldn’t stop thinking about his mouth on her neck, the press of his thigh between hers, how his eyes burned with something ancient and consuming. What would it feel like to be fully claimed by a dragon-bonded rider with fire in his blood and storm in his soul?
The moment Thorne’s dorm room door closed, he pressed her against it and kissed her like he’d been waiting centuries.
