Most days, it’s just me, Thane, and Xaroth. Soon, other dragon riders will be part of aerial battle practice.
Bonded or not, we’re still learning. I have to anticipate her—and she, me. We have to become one.
And through it all?
Thane is always there. Sparring with me. Watching me. Pushing me.
The difference is—there’s no restraint anymore. He smiles more. Touches more. Lingers more. And it’s unsettling. Because I’ve seen Thane in full control. I’ve seen the Warlord—calm, precise, calculating.
But this? This is different. Now, hewantsme to see it.
In training, he gets too close—his breath warm against my skin as he corrects my stance.
“Again,” he murmurs, fingers brushing my waist, the touch deliberate.
During sparring, every time I think I’ve found an opening—he’s already there. Knocking me off balance, but catching my wrist before I can fall. Holding just a moment too long before letting go.
Outside of training, there is no more avoiding each other. No more distance.
I reach for a blade—his hand’s already there.
Turn a corner—he’s beside me.
Wake in the morning—he’s already watching.
He still taunts me. But now? It’s a challenge.
And it’s making my insides melt.
“You’re hesitating,” he purrs into my ear after I miss a strike. “Still thinking too much?”
“Your balance is off.” A hand slowly skims over my hip, adjusting my stance. “Focus.”
“You think I’m going to go easy on you now that we kissed?” A smirk tugs at his lips. “Not a chance.”
And gods help me—are we talking about combat training or sex? Because Ilikeit.
So I push back.
“You’re awfully handsy today, Fire Warlord,” I say as he stands behind me, body flush to mine, his foot nudging mine wider.
“Are you watching my stance, or something else?” I throw over my shoulder when I catch his eyes lingering.
When he kneels to tighten the straps at my thighs, my pulse stutters. “Touch me like that again and I’ll start thinking this isn’t just training.”
I’m in the middle of sharpening my blade when Lyra drops down beside me with a dramatic sigh.
I don’t look up. “That’s a heavy sigh.”
Lyra hums. “Yeah, I’m deeply concerned about something.”
I pause, glancing at her. “Should I be worried?”
She leans in slightly, voice low and conspiratorial. “Honestly, the eye-fucking happening between you two is gettingout of control.”
A beat.
“We’re placing bets again.” She winks.
