Archmage Academy 2: A Progression Fantasy Adventure (Null Mage Book 2) by Vance Ryder

Author:Vance Ryder [Ryder, Vance]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2026-03-02T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13: New Beginnings

I woke with Rhea in my arms.

Sunlight streamed through the window of her borrowed room, catching the copper fire of her hair where it spread across my chest. She was still asleep—deeply, peacefully, the kind of rest that came only after complete exhaustion. In sleep, her face was softer than I'd ever seen it awake. The perpetual wariness had smoothed away, leaving something younger and more open beneath.

Her body was warm against mine, one leg thrown across my thighs, her hand resting over my heart as if checking that it still beat. The blanket had slipped during the night, revealing the lean line of her back, the curve of her hip, the small dimples at the base of her spine that I'd discovered with my mouth in the dark hours.

Ash had apparently decided the hallway was insufficient after all. The silver wolf lay curled at the foot of the bed, one golden eye cracking open to regard me before closing again in clear dismissal. I got the distinct impression he approved of the arrangement, even if he'd never admit it.

I lay still, not wanting to wake her, replaying the night before in my memory. She'd been nervous at first—fumbling, uncertain, nothing like the confident ranger who moved through danger like water. Her hands had trembled when she reached for me, and she'd apologized three times before I'd silenced her with kisses.

But the nervousness had given way to passion, and the passion had broken something loose in both of us. By the end, she'd been crying—not from pain, but from the release of years of isolation, years of refusing to let anyone close. She'd let me hold her while she shook, and then she'd reached for me again, demanding more, determined to prove to herself that she could have this. Could want this. Could accept being wanted in return.

She stirred against me, a soft sound of protest as wakefulness intruded.

"What time is it?" she mumbled against my chest.

"Mid-morning, I think."

"That late?" She sat up abruptly, the blanket falling away to reveal the lean lines of her body—small breasts, athletic frame, the scars I'd traced with my mouth in the darkness. Her copper hair was wild, tangled from sleep and other activities. "I never sleep this late. I never—"

"You needed the rest. We both did."

She looked at me, and something in her expression shifted from alarm to something warmer. More settled. Her eyes dropped to my chest, where her marks still showed—scratches from her nails, a bite mark on my shoulder, the evidence of passion she hadn't fully controlled.

"I didn't mean to..." She touched the bite mark, her cheeks flushing. "I got carried away."

"I noticed. I'm not complaining."

"Last night really happened," she said, more to herself than to me.

"It did."

"I'm not dreaming. I'm not going to wake up and find out I imagined—"

I pulled her down and kissed her, morning breath and all. She made a sound of surprise that melted into approval, her body relaxing against mine, her bare breasts pressing against my chest.

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