“You’re awake.” Thane murmurs.
His voice is low, rough from sleep, but there’s something different in it. Something settled.
I shift slightly, tilting my head up to look at him. His smoke-gray eyes meet mine.
And gods, they are different.
The mask he always wears—the Warlord, the weight, the armor—is gone. What’s left is something steadier. Quieter.
Because finally—finally—he isn’t fighting this anymore. He isn’t holding back.
I see it in his gaze, in the way he looks at me, certain and unflinching.
Mine.
“Morning,” I murmur, my voice still thick with sleep.
“Morning,” he says, low and steady. “Remember that thing I wanted to tell you?”
Okay then.He’s not wasting time—not hiding behind silence anymore.
“Yes, what is it?” I ask, shifting so I could better see his beautiful face.
His fingers move against my back, tracing slow, absent patterns. I lean into them, relishing the light touch.
“That I’m done pretending this doesn’t matter,” he says, quietly. “That I’m done trying to convince myself I can ignore it.”
A slow exhale. His eyes hold mine—unguarded . . . unwavering.
“That I know exactly what this is.”
I feel the shift of certainty—in his hands, in his voice, in his eyes.
I was always meant to be here.I was always meant to be his.
There are a lot of things I could say. A dozen ways I could answer. But this is me. And even now, even after everything—the bond, the curse, the weight of last night—I can’t help myself.
I smirk.
“So does this mean you’re finally admitting you’re into me?”
His lips twitch. I see it—the almost-smile, the almost-laugh, the almost-surrender.
“Amara—” he groans.
“Because I think this is what people call a breakthrough, Thane.”
I shift slightly, stretching against him, my body still tangled with his. And gods—I don’t miss the way his breath catches.
His grip tightens around me, just slightly.
And that?
Thatis its own kind of victory.
“You’re impossible,” he mutters.
A grin tugs at my mouth.
