Page 71 of Thane's Demon
This was not a memory.
This was not my mother’s scent.
This was not a dream.
I was wrapped in Thane.
His arm was curved around my waist, strong and solid, pinning me gently but securely against the hard lines of his body. My back was pressed to his chest, his breath warm against the nape of my neck, steady and slow in a way that made my heart stumble. Every inch of him was heat, muscle, and strength, so close I could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat through my spine. My entire body softened instinctively, leaning into him before my mind even had time to understand what it was doing. For a moment, I simply breathed, letting myself drown in the safety of him.
He felt it when I woke.
His arm tightened again, almost imperceptibly, but enough that my breath caught. The hand on my waist slid just a little lower, his fingers curling with unconscious possessiveness, as if the very idea of letting go pained him. His voice came quietly, roughened with sleep and something deeper.
“Don’t move.”His breath brushed my skin, sending a shiver down my spine.“Just let me hold you for a little longer.”The softness in his tone pulled at something fragile inside me. It was not a command, not the cold, clipped words he used when he was shutting the world out. It sounded almost like a plea. I relaxed further, pressing back into him as if my body answered him before I could form words.
“It’s okay, I’m safe,”I whispered.
He made a low sound, almost a growl but not quite, more frustration than aggression.
“You might not have been.”
Something tightened in his chest when he said it. I could feel it, the tension in his breath, the stiffness in his jaw where it brushed my temple. He was blaming himself, carrying the weight of whatever danger had nearly swallowed me hours ago.
“Thane,”I said gently, turning slightly in his arms. His grip tightened once more before he reluctantly let me shift so I could face him.
“You can’t blame yourself for everything.”
“I can when it’s my fault,” he replied, and his voice was quiet but merciless. Before I could argue, he forced himself to sit up, dragging a hand through his hair as if grounding himself. The loss of his warmth made my skin ache. He got out of bed and crossed to a battered crate near the wall that served as a makeshift table, grabbing a bottle of water. He handed it to me without a word, though his eyes stayed on me like he was still counting every breath I took.
“Drink,” he murmured.
I sat up, the blanket pooling around my waist as I took the bottle. The moment felt strange, too intimate for someone I barely knew and yet not intimate enough to match the rush in my chest. I watched him for a moment, the worry etched across his face, the tension in the set of his shoulders.
“What happened last night?” I asked. “Why was someone following me? Why were they hunting me?”
His jaw tightened and he looked away, muscles coiling beneath his skin like something dangerous was pacing inside him.
“It’s because of me,” he said at last.
“Care to elaborate on that?” I pressed, frustration slipping into my voice. He ran a hand down his face, avoiding my eyes.
“Alora, this is not a conversation you are ready for.”
I stared at him, disbelief tightening in my chest as I rose to my feet in a challenging way.
“Not ready? I was almost kidnapped. Someone chased me through the stairwell of my building. Someone followed me across the city. If you think you get to decide what I’m ready for, you’re wrong.”
That made him turn. Slowly. His brows lifted, surprise flickering in his eyes, followed by something that looked dangerously close to amusement.
“You’re angry with me,” he said, sounding almost fascinated.
“I’m furious,” I snapped, heat flushing my cheeks. “And don’t you dare smile like that. Now tell me what’s going on!”
A low, warm sound escaped him, half a laugh.
“You’re adorable when you threaten me, little fluff.”
My mouth fell open, a flush burning up my throat.
