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We could do it again,I offer, pulse steady, deliberate.You between me and another me. We’d keep you so full you’d forget how to speak. You love that, don’t you? Being mine times two.

She sends nothing back—but I don’t need her to. Her breath’s coming faster. Her pulse flutters through the bond, a tight rhythmic flicker like a heart trapped between need and surrender.

I slide closer. Not with my body. Just with thought. My voice curls into her skull like smoke.

I’d make you come just from watching. No hands. Just you spread out and needy, two of me touching you until you can’t breathe. Until you forget who you are.

This time, she sends something.

Not words.

A flash of heat. A memory not mine. Her hips rocking back against me, one hand clawing at the clone’s shoulder while she gasps around the sound of my name. Her voice—wrecked, raw, high. Mine.

She’s giving it back.

I damn near stumble.

The trees narrow around us, twisted things bent into archways overhead. I barely see them. My entire body is inside her mind, twisted up in the bond and the echo of her wanting me the way I want her—again, again, always.

Luna.

I whisper it against her skin. Thought and heat, laced with reverence.

She squeezes my hand again.

And when we emerge from the thorns into the clearing, when Orin lifts his head and watches her like he sees every wicked thing pulsing through her, I wonder if he knows she’s still fullof me. Of thought, of heat, of the echo of my mouth on her skin even though I haven’t touched her in hours.

Up ahead, Riven’s already moved to the edge of the clearing, his blade half-drawn. The Warden’s Keep rises beyond the fog, jagged and black against the bones of the Hollow.

But Elias is the one who speaks.

Of course he is.

He turns just as we catch up, eyes flicking down to our hands, then back up to Luna’s mouth like he wants to say something clever.

Instead, he chokes.

“Oh,” he blurts. “You—uh—holding hands now? Cute. Very… ceremonial. Very historical.”

Luna doesn’t respond. Doesn’t let go either.

Elias swallows, visibly flustered, and then mutters under his breath, “I mean, it’s fine, it’s not like I was gonna hold your hand too, or anything. That would be… weird. Unless you want that. Do you want that?”

Silas-me wants to laugh. Silas-her wants to shove her against the nearest wall and drag her apart in front of him. But I school my face into something calm and innocent.

Luna arches a brow.

Elias rubs the back of his neck, eyes wide. “Cool. Cool cool cool. Love that for you both. I’ll just… go scout. Or climb something and fall off. As is tradition.”

He turns and nearly walks into a tree.

Riven sighs. “Gods help us.”

And then Orin speaks, slow and quiet. His voice cuts through the heat still simmering between Luna and me.

“Keep’s awake.”

We all freeze.