Page 72 of Black Wing and Shadows
“Zane—”
“I don’t want to talk about dragons,” he murmured, his voice low and rough at the edges. “I want to see you.”
“You’re impossible,” I whispered.
“You like impossible.”
Before I could argue, his mouth found mine—slow at first, a question and a challenge rolled into one. I responded to both, my fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer until his knees bumped mine. He deepened the kiss, one hand sliding to the back of my neck, the other skimming down my side, leaving a trail of heat behind. The rest of the world—the dragons, the lockdown, the noise—faded away.
Zane’s mouth moved against mine with a kind of urgency that was all too familiar, but that night there was an edge to it—like we’d both been holding our breath since the chaos outside and only now were letting it go. He kissed me like he needed the taste to keep breathing, his hands gripping my hips and pulling me to my feet. My chair scraped back, forgotten, as my chest pressed to his. The room was quiet except for us—unevenbreathing, the faint rustle of fabric, the soft thud of his boots as he walked me backward toward the bed.
“Zane—” I started, but the way he looked at me stole the rest of the words.
“You think I’m here because I can’t follow rules,” he said, his voice low and rough. “I’m here because I can’t stay away from you.”
My heart pounded hard against my ribs, but before I could answer, his mouth pressed against mine again, deeper and hungrier. We’d been there before, too many times to count, but it never got easier—only more dangerous. Zane’s mouth claimed mine again, but this time there was no hesitation. Each movement carried the weight of nights gone by—the ones that left me trembling, breathless, and craving more—and yet, that night felt sharper, hungrier.
He pulled me close as if he’d been waiting all day to touch me, his hands sliding over the familiar curves and planes of my body with the confidence of someone who knew exactly where I’d melt. I could feel his pulse against mine. The steady rhythm pressed to my chest as he guided me backward until my knees hit the bed. The room was dim, shadows cast by the low lamplight dancing across his face, softening the lines I’d only seen in quiet moments. His fingertips traced the edge of my jaw, then down the column of my throat, his gaze never leaving mine.
“You know I can’t stay away from you,” he murmured, leaning in so close his breath warmed my ear. “Not when you look at me like that.”
Every gesture of his hands, every shift of his weight, was deliberate—teasing and certain all at once. His lips found mine again, deeper this time, the kiss building in a way that made my toes curl and my fingers twist into his shirt. When we fell back onto the bed, it wasn’t clumsy—it felt like falling into a rhythm we’d never lost.
The heat between us flared, and I could feel every beat of it in the spaces where we touched and where we didn’t, where the ache of almost was its own kind of fire. His forehead rested against mine for a breath, eyes locked on me as if he might finally say the words we’d both been dancing around. But instead, he kissed me again—slowly at first, then deeper, until thoughtswere impossible and the rest of the world didn’t exist. And in that moment, with his heartbeat thundering against mine, I didn’t need to hear the words to know.
CHAPTER 27
Last night was blissful and, honestly, exactly what I needed. Zane stayed with me until the early hours before going back to his room. Filled with passionate sex, leaving me aching for more the next morning. Falling asleep in his arms was more than I needed. It was something I hadn’t even realized I wanted until I woke up. I longed for more nights with him in my arms, and that thought made me wonder how I would manage without him nearby during my final two years. I couldn’t let myself dwell on that because it was self-destructive. I needed to stay in the present.
A group of us were headed to Chalahana for the day, ending it at the lively local tavern. Sadie, Thora, Lili, and a few others from our wing joined us. Chalahana was about one and a half miles from the admin building, and we had to walk there and back unless you had wings.
Even the Riders with fliers weren’t allowed to fly there. Zane, of course, came along. He brought a few of his Drusearon friends, some of whom I hadn’t met before. I offered for him to spend the day with his friends, but he politely told me absolutely fucking not.
We all met outside in the flight field. Lili approached, looking like she was heading out to pubs back home, while I dressed ready for a fight. We were not the same. Maybe her confidence as the Platoon Leader didn’t leave her as vulnerable as I felt.
Lili smirked at my boots and braided hair. “You planning to wrestle someone on the way there?”
“Perfectly prepared,” I said, adjusting my jacket. “Not all of us can depend on charm and shin-high heels to keep us safe.”
She rolled her eyes, yet I noticed how she scanned the field—automatic and assessing, just like I did. That was her strength. She could appear to be heading to a dance but remain three steps ahead of anyone trying to challenge her. The rest of the group arrived gradually, laughter and casual chatter filling the cool morning air. Zane showed up last, his hands in his pockets, flanked by two tall Drusearons. They carried themselves with quiet confidence, danger concealed behind relaxed smiles.
“Alright,” Lili said, clapping her hands. “Let’s get moving before the sun decides to bake us alive.”
We had to cross the river bridge, go through the field, and then onto the dirt road. I could really use my horse back home, travel would be easier.
“Auri, this is Eli. Eli, this is Auri,” Zane nodded to the six-foot-two-inch male on his immediate left. He had olive skin, dark black hair, and light brown eyes.
“Nice to meet you,” Eli said while giving me a nod.
“Same,” I said with a smile.
“And on the other side of him is Oliver.”
“Hey,” I said to the five-foot-eleven, pale-skinned male.
“Nice to finally meet you, Auri,” he said.
Eli’s handshake was firm, and his smile was quick but not overly warm. He was the kind of male who judged people before deciding whether he liked them. Oliver, on the other hand, had a spark in his pale eyes—perhaps mischief or the quiet confidence of someone who’d already decided I was worth knowing.
