Page 44 of Third

Slowly, he lifted his head, the faint brush of his breath skating across her skin, hot and uneven, sending a fresh shiver down her spine.

She fought to make sense of it, fought to cling to logic. Her voice broke through the silence, awhisper full of fragile denial. “It’s you. You’re the one losing control, notme.”

It had to be him. It had to be his craving alone, not hers.Not hers. His amethyst eyes burned, the glow fierce and unrelenting. His jaw flexed like he was grinding stone between his teeth.

“You are not wrong,” he said, his voice low and vibrant. “But it is not entirely me, either.”

Anya blinked, the words slicing through the haze clouding her mind. “What’snot?”

He shifted slightly where they sat, straightening just enough to cage her more firmly on his thighs, his body brimming with tension. His chest heaved once, aharsh, reluctant breath dragged from his lungs, like breathing itself was a battle he was losing.

“You feel it. The craving,” he growled. “Do not denyit.”

The air between them crackled. She opened her mouth, instinct screaming to protest, to refute, to shove him away—to do anything but yield. Her heart pounded so violently it drowned out reason. But when she tried to form the words, they died on her tongue. No denial came. No protest. Only the aching silence that hung between them, pulsing with heat and inevitability.

Tor’Vek pinned her with his gaze, the sheer force of it slamming into her like a physical blow. His eyes glowed brighter, twin embers of ruthless intent, and she felt the air shift—thicker, hotter, alive with a dangerous promise.

Every muscle in his body tensed, hard and unrelenting, as if he were holding himself back with the last fraying strands of willpower. Anya felt it too, the fierce restraint vibrating against her skin, making her pulse jump wildly.

It should have terrified her—maybe it did—but excitement curled low in her belly, molten and breathless, answering his raw need with a hunger of her own she could no longer deny. She flinched with the force of it, instinctively shrinking into herself, but it was too late. The primal thing inside him—the creature that had long been buried under logic and control—fractured, stretching awake.

He leaned in slightly, so close she could feel the untamed passion pouring off him, the faint exhalation of his breath against her skin. His hands gripped the edges of the bench, not to release her, but to chain himself in place. Fornow.

Every fiber of him screamed to take. To claim. Toown.

And Anya knew—with bone-deep certainty—that if she reached for him now, there would be no comingback.

He leaned in even closer, their bodies nearly pressed together, and the world narrowed to the sound of his voice—rough, edged, feral.

“This craving is not a weapon pointed only at me. It reaches for both of us. Tell me I am wrong.”

Her mouth trembled. She whispered, “You’re wrong.”

But the bond throbbed harder, pulsating with the truth they bothknew.

Anya’s breath caught as she watched him, every inch of her body a live wire, hypersensitive to the scorching drag of his gaze. Her skin felt too tight, too hot, as if the very air between them had thickened and heated, tasting electric on her tongue.

She felt the invisible sweep of his stare like a slow, searing caress, igniting every nerve and setting her entire body trembling with a desperate, wild need she could no longer contain. She felt it like a caress—slow, molten, searing—lingering on the flushed curve of her throat, the frantic rise and fall of her chest, the tremble that tightened her thighs againsthis.

She saw his hands twitch against the bench, the restraint in him palpable, aching to strip away the last fragile inches separating them. Heat pooled low in her belly, desperate and wild, her skin tingling under the weight of his unspoken hunger. Tor’Vek’s jaw clenched, his entire frame drumming with the raw, primal need to touch, to taste, to claim—and she knew, without question, that she wanted ittoo.

He reached out—slowly, deliberately—and caressed her jawline with the backs of his fingers. The contact was featherlight, careful, but it was electric, sending a jolt of fire spiraling through her nerves. Her lips parted on a gasp she couldn’t contain, her pupils blowing wide until her eyes were nearly swallowed whole by desire. Every inch of her skin tingled where he touched, and her thighs clenched instinctively around the empty ache building inside her, desperate formore.

“It’s the bracelet,” she whispered, almost pleading. “That’sall.”

The bracelet against her wrist pulsed viciously, contradictingher.

Tor’Vek’s voice dropped, rough silk against her fraying nerves.

“Affirmative.”

Her heart twisted, the ache spiraling low and sharp as she met the molten heat of his stare. Need wrapped tight around her chest, making every breath a struggle. Her thighs pressed even harder against him, the pulse between her legs throbbing with an aching, undeniable want. She could feel the tension coiling in his body, matching her own—ashared hunger so fierce it left her trembling.

Her voice broke free, soft and visceral. “Then why does it feel likemore?”

He had no answer.

But she could sense the matching ache tearing through him, violent and inexorable.

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