Page 47 of Third

The faint, uneven vibration from the bracelets pressed against her skin and into her bones, areminder that they were no longer two—but not yet perfectly one. The ragged sounds of their breathing filled the space around them, mingling with the bond’s imperfect beat, and with it came the heavy, undeniable certainty that neither of them would ever be the same again.

He didn’t let hergo.

He couldn’t.

And Anya didn’t want himto.

She clung to him, feeling the broken thunder of his heart pounding against hers, the ragged hum of their bond wrapping tighter with every breath.

They had crossed a line that could never be uncrossed.

She was his. He washers.

And the universe would have to burn before either of them letgo.

Chapter12

TOR’VEK GUIDEDAnya toward the auxiliary console, keeping her close enough to reach if the rage clawed free again, but not so close he would forget himself entirely. His hands lingered against her back a moment longer than necessary, the craving to pull her closer, to lose himself in her touch, almost overwhelming his iron will. The beast inside him roared to feel her skin against his, to drag her into the cradle of his body and never release her. But he tore himself away with brutal, scraping restraint, every muscle screaming in protest.

The bond between them throbbed at the separation, alow, restless vibration under his skin. He ignored it. Barely. Her scent clung to the air, teasing him, stirring the craving deeper. He caught a glimpse of her from the corner of his eye—her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her teeth worrying her lower lip, her body shifting subtly as if aching to move closer to him but too uncertain toact.

“Tor’Vek,” she whispered, the sound so soft he almost missed it over the ship’s creaking frame.

His muscles locked. The bond twisted hard, demanding he turn, touch,take.

“Iam here,” he said, his voice rougher than he intended.

She took a half step closer, her hesitation bleeding into the bond, bittersweet and electric. He could feel the hunger radiating from her—uncertain but no less real. Amirror to hisown.

He gritted his teeth, fighting the instinct to seize her and never letgo.

“Stay close,” he growled, the words a harsh command.

Anya nodded, wide-eyed, her pulse fluttering against the delicate skin of her throat. Asingle glance from her cut deeper than any blade. Seeing her trembling but standing, terrified but still reaching for him, only deepened the savage craving inside him—to protect her, to mark her, to bind her so completely to him that nothing in the universe could rip her away. And when she edged closer, stroking his arm, the bond flared in vicious, aching relief—asilent scream betweenthem.

He moved through the ship with brutal precision, surveying the damage. Panels hung half-torn from the walls. Wiring snaked across the floor in dangerous, sparking coils. Emergency lighting flickered overhead, casting the cramped interior in a sickly, unevenglow.

Tor’Vek clamped his jaw shut against the snarl threatening to breakfree.

Structural integrity—compromised but stable. Life support—limping but functional.

Propulsion—

He ripped open the engineering access panel and cursed in three languages.

The main coupling for the compression core was cracked clean through, the jagged metal edges blackened from the overload. Worse, the stabilizer array—the component necessary to regulate thrust during flight—was melted beyond repair.

He could jerry-rig minor systems. Bypass auxiliary circuits. Patch hull breaches with scrap. But without a functional stabilizer, the ship would tear itself apart the moment it attempted ajump.

Tor’Vek closed his eyes, drawing in a rough, unsteady breath, fighting the tidal surge of fury that threatened to drown him. His body tensed against the flood, every instinct screaming for the feel of Anya’s skin against his, for the calming weight of her touch. Her silent presence filled the cramped space, her scent, her heartbeat—and somehow it made the hunger sharper, not softer, until every muscle in his body ached with the desperate need to tear down the walls betweenthem.

He needed a replacementpart.

And he would not find ithere.

A soft sound—the whisper of movement—drew him back. Anya shifted near the console, hugging her arms around herself. Vulnerable. Waiting. Wanting.

The bond bucked and twisted inside him, screaming for contact, for her touch, for the reassuring heat of her body against his. It lashed through his nerves like a whip, brutal and relentless, until every rational thought frayed beneath the primal need clawing at his insides.

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