Page 34 of Cursed Dreams (Shadow and Dreams #1)

Thalia’s head tipped back against the wall, her pulse roaring in her ears. Her skin burned, every nerve alive, her core tightening with need so fierce it made her dizzy.

He slammed a palm beside her head, staring down at her like he was barely tethered to reason.

“You don’t understand,” he whispered, “the effort it takes not to seek you out. Every gods-damned day.”

His other hand slid to her waist, fingers curling against her like he couldn’t bear to let go.

Then he shoved his face into the curve of her neck, groaning like a man barely holding on.

“Your scent,” he growled, voice muffled against her skin, “it awakens the beast in me.”

Thalia’s fingers tightened in his shirt, heart slamming in her chest, breath ragged and lips parted, his words sank into her skin, branding her more surely than any magic ever could.

The beast in me.

Her entire body trembled under the weight of it, of him, his mouth grazing the delicate skin of her throat, his breath hot, ragged, like he was barely keeping himself from unravelling entirely.

She wasn’t sure when her hands had tangled in the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer, grounding herself against the storm of sensation he’d ignited.

But now, feeling the restrained power in every line of his body, the tension coiled like a predator beneath his skin—she couldn’t let go if she tried.

“Vaelith…” she whispered, voice half a plea, half a curse.

He groaned her name like it undid him. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he rasped, dragging his mouth up the side of her neck, barely brushing her jaw with his lips. “You think I’m cold. Distant. You think I don’t care.”

His thumb traced the curve of her waist, firm and slow, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

“You are inside me, Thalia. Buried so deep in my thoughts I can’t sleep. Can’t focus. I see you every time I close my eyes.”

Her knees threatened to give out, but his body held her pinned, solid, burning, the evidence of his need pressing against her. Gods, she wanted him.

The tension between them was unbearable, hot and suffocating and electric. She lifted her head to meet his eyes, breathless and shaking, lips parted in silent invitation.

His gaze dropped to her mouth, and his jaw clenched like he was restraining himself with everything he had.

“I shouldn’t,” he said, voice strained and thick with want. “You deserve more than this. More than me.”

“Then stop looking at me like that,” she breathed.

“Like what?” he murmured, brushing the tip of his nose against hers.

“Like you want to devour me.”

He chuckled softly, dark and aching. “I do.”

His mouth crashed down on hers again, slower this time, deeper—deliberate. A kiss that wasn’t just hunger, but possession, longing, desperation.

He kissed her like she belonged to him. Like he didn’t care if he burned for it.

His hand slid to the small of her back, pressing her flush to him, and she gasped against his mouth, feeling just how hard he was for her.

Every brush of his lips, every stroke of his hands, spoke the same truth, he was losing control. And gods help her, she didn’t want him to stop

Vaelith’s breath was ragged as he pulled away from her lips, his hands trembling where they held her. His gaze burned into her, fierce, reverent, desperate.

Slowly, deliberately, he dropped to his knees before her.

Thalia’s breath hitched, heart hammering in her chest. The sight of him like that, powerful, commanding Vaelith, kneeling for her. It sent heat rushing through her, so fast and so sharp it made her dizzy

“I need to taste you,” he rasped, voice thick with hunger. “Just once. Let me have this.”

She didn’t answer. She couldn't. She simply nodded,

His eyes molten gold, hands gripping the curve of her thighs throwing them over his shoulders, like he’d found sanctuary between them.

Thalia’s lips parted, her heart thundering as she looked down at him, this man who was always composed, cold, infuriatingly unreadable, now undone, kneeling for her.

“Let me taste you,” he whispered, the words scraping from his throat like a confession. “Let me worship you.”

His hands skimmed up her sides with aching reverence, bunching the fabric of her robe at her hips. The heat of his mouth trailed along her inner thigh, his breath a burning promise against her skin.

Her head dropped back with a shuddering sigh, her eyes fluttering closed as pleasure bloomed low in her belly. Her hands slid into his hair, threading through the silken strands, anchoring herself to the moment.

Gods…

No one had ever made her feel like this. She let herself drown in the warmth of it, her body already tightening with anticipation, every nerve ending sparking like starlight under his touch.

His tongue found her, slow at first, then more certain—drawing a broken gasp from her lips as her hips arched into his mouth. He groaned softly against her, the sound low and rough, vibrating through her skin.

“Gods,” he murmured, the words barely audible between breaths. “You taste like sin.”

His grip on her thighs tightened, holding her steady as he moved with growing hunger, each flick and press of his tongue deliberate, relentless. There was no hesitation in him, only heat and need and the reverent way he devoured her like he had dreamed of this moment for far too long.

Thalia couldn’t think. Couldn’t speak. All she could do was feel—each stroke unravelling her, each moan from his lips dragging her deeper into the fire building low in her belly. Her fingers tangled in his hair, anchoring herself as the pleasure surged, raw and electric.

He worshipped her with every movement, and the way he moaned against her, for her, made her feel like she was the only thing that had ever existed in his world.

Blinding, searing light exploded outward from her chest, a force so powerful it ripped through the air like a shockwave.

Vaelith was thrown backwards—his body lifted from the floor and slammed into the far wall with a grunt of pain.

The fire in the hearth blew out. The room dropped into darkness, broken only by the faint, residual glow pulsing around Thalia’s body.

She collapsed against the wall, panting, eyes wide in horror and confusion. Her hands trembled as she looked down at her chest, where the magic had burst from her, the same place her necklace now glowed faintly against her skin.

In her mind, she saw Caelum’s face: soft, radiant, achingly beautiful, his eyes filled with a sorrow that cut deeper than any wound.

Thalia clutched at her chest the cold burn returning.

Vaelith groaned from across the room, slowly rising to his feet, face twisted in confusion and disbelief. “What the hell was that?” he growled, voice hoarse. “What did you do?”

Thalia stared at him, trembling. “I… I didn’t… I don’t know.”

Though she couldn’t explain it, not fully, one thing lodged itself in her mind with quiet, unsettling certainty, Caelum had stopped her.

He had seen something, felt something, and whatever force stirred deep within her, ancient and instinctive, had responded to him.

Chosen him. Even if she hadn’t meant for it to.

Even if, just for a moment, she had almost given herself to someone else.

The realisation left her reeling, more confused than ever

Vaelith stood there, eyes burning, not with gold this time, but something sharper. Something that cut without blade.

“Who is it?” he sounded incredulous.

Thalia’s stomach twisted.

“Who are you bonded to?” he demanded again, voice low and tight, like saying it too loudly might break something in him. “Give me a name.”

Her mouth opened, but no sound came.

Caelum.

She couldn’t say it. Not because she didn’t want to… but because it felt ridiculous.

How could she explain this? How could she say the name of a male who only existed in moonlit forests and dreams?

A man who she couldn’t touch outside the veil of sleep?

His face haunted her, etched in light and shadow behind her eyes.

He had touched her soul. Spoken to her heart like he already knew its every crack and scar.

In front of her stood Vaelith. Very real. Very present.

This was the man who had been there when she broke apart after Aric’s diagnosis.

The one who had steadied her, who saw her strength and pushed her to rise.

The male who had offered her tea when she felt she had nothing left, who carried her on horseback when she was too afraid to admit she couldn’t ride, who had kissed her like the world might end and he wanted to burn every second of her into memory.

No, he hadn’t said love. But the weight of what had passed between them hadn’t been hollow. She had felt it. The need. The heat. The pull. This was a mess. A big, spiralling, tangled mess, she had no idea how to fix it.

“I…” she whispered, shaking her head. “I don’t know what to say.”

Vaelith’s expression shifted again, pulling the mask of composure back over his features like a shroud. He straightened his shoulders, adjusted the folds of his cloak.

The only sign of what had just happened was the faint tremble in his jaw.

“I’ll take you to your room,” he said quietly.

“Vaelith—”

He held up a hand. Not harshly. But final. He stepped toward her, cautiously, like approaching a frightened animal. His arms came around her, not possessive, not passionate. Just… gentle. Careful. A protector shielding what he could not keep.

The shadows closed in around them, wrapping them in that familiar sensation of dark and wind, the strange pull of his magic brushing against her skin like silk. They stepped out into a darkened corridor, the wall just beside her shared room with Nyla, he let her go.

Thalia turned toward him, heart lodged in her throat. “Vaelith—”

But he was already gone.

The shadows swallowed him before she could say another word. She was left standing in silence. Alone. Torn between fire and starlight, heart and duty, shadow and dream and not a single answer to hold on to.