Page 79 of Third

The emotions tore through both of them like a surge in the bond. Not lust. Not quite. It was need sharpened to a blade—desperate and unrelenting. Hunger, yes, but laced with rage. Not at each other, but at everything. At the trap they were caught in. At the dying ship. At the universe that kept them on the edge of survival. His hands didn’t falter on the controls, but every muscle in his body coiled as the bracelet slammed a molten surge through every nerve ending.

He saw Anya shift, the subtle arch of her back betraying the internal battle she refused to voice. She was fighting—fighting herself, fighting the craving, and losing ground. Her fingers twitched at her sides, flexing once, twice, then curling into her thighs as if she could attach herself there. He felt her heat, her pulse, the tremor that traveled from her bracelet into the air betweenthem.

She didn’t speak. Neither didhe.

But her silence rang like a scream in his skull. It clawed at the edges of his thoughts, louder than any alarm. She did not need to speak—her restraint, her trembling composure, echoed through the bond with such clarity it might as well have been a shout. He heard everything in what she didn’t say: the rage, the hunger, the unbearable ache of holdingback.

And yet, neither of them spoke.

The ship dipped violently as they cut over a canyon. Anya pitched forward and Tor’Vek’s hand snapped out, catching her. The moment they touched—

Heat, violent and immediate, surged betweenthem.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t soft. It was raw and explosive, acollision of craving and fury that punched through the bond like a burst of starlight through space. Her breath caught, eyes flying wide. His hand flexed involuntarily, holding on instead of lettinggo.

The bond roared tolife.

It slammed into them like a shockwave—hot, visceral, and absolute. Tor’Vek’s vision tunneled, the cockpit vanishing around him. All he could feel was her—the heat of her skin, the rhythm of her breath, the visible tension in her body that echoed hisown.

His control wavered at the edges, frayed by the pulse of the bond crashing through his system like a seismic wave. She was volatility in a closed system—heat, pressure, and ignition point all in one. Every movement, every micro-shift in her posture triggered his instincts like a proximity alarm. She was a tactical variable he could not neutralize, agravitational constant pulling him out of formation.

It was not lust. It was not affection. It was the need to possess and protect and destroy anything that stood in the way of that connection.

He gritted his teeth. He would not give in. Not here. Notnow.

But her presence filled his senses like gravity, and even his resolve bent towardher.

Tor’Vek held himself rigid, jaw clenched as the bond dragged him toward her like gravity. Every rational command screamed at him to let go. Every instinct screamed louder to pull her closer.

He didn’t move. Neither didshe.

But they were no longer separate. The bond blurred every boundary, folding time and fury into something breathless and hot. Every inch of space between them vanished without either of them leaning in. They were already there.

He held her too long. Her fingers gripped his forearm—tight, possessive, like she didn’t trust the world not to steal himaway.

Neither pulled away. Couldn’t.

Their eyes met. Her lips parted, and Tor’Vek watched the tremor there—the urge to speak, to surrender, to rage against what bound them and what kept them apart. He could feel it. Not just the hunger, but the ache beneath it. The chaos inside her echoed hisown.

He didn’t want the words. He wanted control. And the moment he saw her falter—just slightly—his breath caught.

What would she have said, if she had spoken?

He would not ask. Could not afford to know. Notyet.

Just breath. Just heat. And the bond—alive, hungry, waiting.

He dropped his hand like it burned, breath ragged, heart pounding too fast for control. For one second more, his gaze stayed locked on hers, the bond still singing between them like static in his blood.

Then he turned back to the controls. His voice came low, clipped, steadier than he felt. “Focus. We are nearing the target. We finish this first. Then we will face whatever this is. After.”

It wasn’t a promise. But it wasn’t a denial either. It was the only truth he could give her in that moment—gritted between teeth, carved from restraint. He could not offer hope, not when the sky was about to fall. But he would not take it from her, either.

She didn’t argue.

But her hands stayed clenched in her lap, white-knuckled, the only outward sign of the storm still raging inside her. Tor’Vek didn’t need to look to know she was barely holding herself together. The craving hadn’t passed—it had sunk deeper, latching itself to her breath, her posture, her silence. And beneath it, rage still simmered, waiting for a target.

He angled them low, banking southeast toward the signal bleed.

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