Page 59 of Third

Tor’Vek’s arms slid beneath her—one at her back, the other under her knees—and in a single smooth motion, he lifted her off the blood-slick ground. She didn’t resist. Couldn’t. Her fingers curled into his chest, seeking reassurance, chasing the warmth that still burned through him. She didn’t understand why, not fully—but it steadied her. Her body recognized safety even when her mind still reeled.

He didn’t lookback.

Still didn’t speak.

Just walked.

The carnage faded behind them with every step, the twisted bodies and broken stones giving way to a clearing of jagged rock and scattered moss. He stopped only when they reached a slope just far enough away to hide the battlefield, as well as the stench andheat.

He knelt, lowering her onto a patch of moss-strewn earth beside a small, silver stream that burbled quietly between stones. For a moment, he stayed with her, his elbows braced on his knees, chest heaving, hands still stained crimson. Then he rose without a word and crossed to the water. He took a moment to examine it with his rij, assuring that it wassafe.

Then he knelt at the edge, cupping the cool current in his palms, scrubbing it over his arms, his face, his chest. The water turned pink around his hands, then clear again. It wasn’t just blood he washed away—it was the remnants of something he hadn’t wanted to become.

When he returned, droplets still clinging to his skin and black-and-white hair, she met his gaze with quiet, wordless gratitude.

She touched his arm again, needing it—needing him—to steady her. Her fingers lingered this time, sliding slowly down the curve of his forearm. His skin was still damp from the stream, and it sent a fresh pulse of heat skimming across her nerves. She didn’t look away. Couldn’t. Not with the way his gaze locked on hers—hungry, searching, restrained only by the last thread of discipline.

Her breath caught. Heat bloomed between them again—sharp and sudden, drawn from the memory of his mouth on hers and the way he looked at her now, like he was already imagining more. She felt the shift in him too. The tightening of his jaw, the flicker in his pupils, the precise control with which he didn’t reach forher.

The moment stretched.

She whispered, “You’re too far.”

He didn’t speak. He just leaned in—slowly, deliberately—until their foreheads touched again.

Her pulse stumbled.

“I am trying not to want you,” he said against her mouth.

“But you do,” she whispered back, trembling. “And I want you, too.”

Their breath mingled. The bond throbbed.

Her hand drifted up his chest—slow, uncertain—tracing the ridges of muscle as if memorizing him by feel alone. His body flexed, muscles tightening beneath her palm like a livewire snapped too tight. His head dipped closer, the heat of him bleeding into her skin. For a second, neither of them breathed.

A heat unfurled low in her belly. His eyes had darkened—not with rage, but with restrained want—and the way his breath hitched when her fingers slid higher told her he was barely holding theline.

Then she surgedup.

Their mouths met—not soft, not slow, but desperate. Raw. She kissed him like she couldn’t stop, like she’d been waiting forever, and he answered with equal heat, one hand clenching at her hip, the other sliding into her hair. The kiss turned raw—stripped of hesitation, brimming with hunger. There was no room for gentleness, no pause for thought. Need, wild and unfiltered, burned through them like a fuse too short to contain the flame.

She broke away first, her breath catching in a quiet, shuddered exhale.

The bracelet flared.

They stared at each other, stunned, breathless, trembling.

And then the screen flickered back tolife.

38:48:19

She blinked. It was still dropping. But slower.

38:47:09

And slower still.

38:46:55

---