Page 85 of Thunder's Reckoning

I nodded, tugging him closer until our foreheads touched. “I want to feel you again.”

The hunger in his eyes intensified, but there was tenderness beneath it too, calm and grounding. He kissed me deeper this time, slow but deliberate, his hand sliding into my hair as mine explored the lines of his body. The roughness of his stubble scraped against my cheek, the heat of his chest pressed into mine.

I let him take his time with me. He touched me like I was sacred, kissed along the hollow of my throat, down my collarbone, each brush of his mouth unraveling me a little more. I arched into him, hands gripping his shoulders, legs tightening around his hips until we moved together in that slow, desperate rhythm.

“Zeke…” I breathed, the word breaking from me like it had been caged too long.

“I got you,” he whispered back, forehead pressed to mine. His voice shook, not with doubt but with the force of what he felt. “I’ll always catch you.”

It wasn’t frantic. It wasn’t about forgetting. It was about holding on. Every kiss, every press of his hand said what neither of us could put into words, that this was ours, and no one could take it from us.

When I fell against him, when we came apart together, it wasn’t fire consuming me. It was gravity. Anchoring me. Steady and deep and true.

After, I lay tangled with him, our skin slick, our breaths slowing in unison. He traced lazy circles on my back, grounding me with that simple touch. I pressed my cheek to his chest, listening to the steady drum of his heartbeat, willing myself to believe it was enough to keep the world away.

But even in the warmth, I felt it. Not in the room, not between us, but pressing in from outside. A shift in the air. Danger creeping closer, like smoke seeping under a locked door.

I closed my eyes and clung to him tighter, memorizing the weight of his arms, the steady rise and fall of his chest.

Because dreams didn’t last. And I wasn’t ready to wake up.

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

BEEN THREE DAYSsince I woke up with a pit in my gut.

Three days since Sable smiled without flinchin’. Since Malik dozed off on the couch with his head in my lap. Since Zara twirled through the common room like she owned every damn inch of it.

Three days of peace.

And in my world, that only ever meant one thing—it was ‘bout to break.

The common room was buzzin’ with the usual crowd. Sable was sittin’ with Zara on her lap talkin’ with Lucy. Malik wasplayin’ checkers with Horse. I sat talkin’ to Gearhead but my eyes never left Sable for long.

Devil’s phone buzzed. He looked down at it, and I saw the change before he even opened his mouth. His eyes turned to flint, cold as steel, like a switch had flipped.

“War room,” he barked, already on his feet. “Now.”

Ten minutes later, we were at the table. Bolt, Mystic, Chain, Gearhead, Rune, Gatsby, and Spinner. Every patch leaned in, shadows cuttin’ across their faces from the overhead lighting. Nobody spoke. The kind of silence where every man’s heart’s beatin’ harder, but no one wants to be the first to break it.

Devil set his phone down, screen facedown like it was a snake that might bite. His gaze cut across the table, landin’ square on me.

“We got a hit,” he said, his voice soft, sure. “Word is, Gabrial knows she’s here.”

The air snapped tight.

My fists curled under the table. “How?”

“Kickstand caught it,” Devil said. “Somebody tagged our clubhouse coordinates in a burner post. Dark web. GPS bounce traced back to Gabrial’s mansion outside Charleston.”

Mystic shoved a hand through his hair, mutterin’ a curse that echoed off the walls. “That ain’t a breadcrumb. That’s a goddamn flare.”

Chain leaned forward, his knuckles drumming a low beat on the wood. “Man posts somethin’ like that, it ain’t by accident. He’s pokin’, seein’ if we twitch.”

Gearhead grunted, arms crossed, eyes dark. “He pokes this nest again, he’s gonna find more than a twitch.”

Bolt’s voice came from deep in his chest. “We hit him first. Take the fight to his door before he brings it to ours.”

Devil’s stare cut across the table, silencing them all. “He knows,” he said flat. “And if he don’t know exact, he’s close enough to start hunting. We move her. Tonight. No fight yet.”