Her breath falters slightly as she feels it too. Our faces are suddenly very close. Close enough that I can feel the warmth of her breath against my skin. My gaze drops briefly to her mouth. Soft. Inviting. Mine.
The instinct to claim her rises swiftly, deeply rooted in the ancient pull of the mate bond.
I lean closer. Then stop.
Restraint closes around the moment like iron. Slowly I withdraw my hand from her chest. The loss of contact leaves the bond humming with lingering heat.
Elowen blinks as though waking from a spell.
“That felt… different.”
“Yes.”
She studies me carefully.
“You almost kissed me.”
“I did.”
“And then you didn’t.”
“Also correct.”
She tilts her head slightly. “Why?”
“Because claiming a mate is not something done halfway.”
“And you decided not to rush that?”
“You are giving me too much credit, princes. I am not created to be nice and sweet. I decided,” I say calmly, “that you deserve to understand what it means first, before I do anything.”
Silence settles between us. Then she inhales slowly, closes her eyes, and repeats the breathing pattern I taught her.
The bond steadies instantly. When she opens her eyes again, triumph glints faintly in them.
“I did it,” she says quietly.
“You did.”
A slow smile spreads across her face.
“Well,” she says, folding her arms again, “since I’ve successfully prevented you from burning the village down tonight…”
Her gaze lifts to mine.
“I believe you owe me your name.”
I study her for a moment. Then I incline my head slightly.
“Threxian.”
9
ELOWEN
Sleep does not come easily after Threxian leaves. The cottage is quiet once he steps back into the shadows beyond my door, yet the absence of his presence does not bring the calm I expect. Instead, the silence feels strangely charged, as though the air itself remembers the warmth that had filled the room only moments before.
I lie awake long after the hearth has burned low, staring at the wooden beams of the ceiling while my thoughts circle the same troubling realization again and again.
