Not charged. Not dangerous.
Just . . . steady. Playful. Safe.
No walls. No power struggle. No back-and-forth.
Just ease.
“Maybe I’m just in a good mood,” I say, nudging my knee against his.
Kieran chuckles, tapping a finger against his chin. “Or maybe you’re glowing because you’re about to become somethinglegendary.”
I snort. “You’re ridiculous.”
He leans in, voice dropping—just enough to send a tiny shiver through me.
“Am I?”
I bite back a grin, shaking my head, enjoying this way too much.
For three days, it’s been nothing but intensity, nothing but breaking down everything I thought I knew.
And right now? I just feel happy.
Kieran watches me a beat longer, then rises. “I should let you enjoy your break before Thane glares me out of existence.”
I snort—
And that’s when I feel it. The weight of his stare.
I glance past Kieran toward the training grounds—and find exactly what I expected.
Thane.
Arms crossed, still as stone. His face is calm—toocalm. That Warlord stillness that only ever shows up when he’s holding something back.
But even from here, I can feel it.
The heat of him. The weight of his gaze. The quiet, simmering intensity just beneath the surface—flame, curled behind stone.
Kieran follows my gaze. His smirk grows.
“Ah.”
I turn back to him, raising an eyebrow.“Ah?”
He huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “You might as well paint a target on your back, Thalor.”
I blink. “What?”
Kieran gestures lazily in Thane’s direction—without even looking. “You’ve got the Warlord over there looking like he’s about to march over here and stake his claim.”
I scoff. “That’s not—”
But I don’t finish. Because Thane moves.
Not a casual stroll. Not some slow meander.
His strides cover ground like it’s a godsdamn pissing match.
