"We complement each other," I said finally. "Where I'm uncertain, he's confident. Where he needs support, I can provide it. The differences... they make us stronger together."
It was true enough, if incomplete. What I couldn't say was how natural it felt to follow his lead, how right it seemed when he made decisions for both of us. How the scholarly precision he applied to everything—from choosing our evening meal to orchestrating our intimacy—created a structure I hadn't known I'd been craving my entire life.
Talis nodded slowly, but I could see him filing away my careful non-answers for later analysis. "And the physical aspects? No complications there?"
Heat flooded my cheeks before I could stop it, memories rising unbidden: the altar, silk beneath my back, Kaelen's intense eyes watching my face as he claimed me for the first time. The way my body had opened for him, welcomed him, transformed pain into pleasure through trust alone.
"No complications," I managed, proud that my voice remained steady.
"Lucky," Alyon muttered. "My first bond was a disaster for the first week. Couldn't figure out who was supposed to lead what, when, and how. Ended up with both of us too frustrated to function properly."
The confession surprised me. Alyon had alwaysprojected confidence about his bonding experience, treating it like another military campaign successfully completed. To hear him admit difficulty, uncertainty...
"It gets easier though," he continued. "Once you stop overthinking and just let instinct take over. Bodies know what they want, even when minds get confused."
Bodies know what they want. The phrase resonated deeper than he could possibly realize. My body had known from the first moment I'd seen Kaelen—had recognized something in his presence that called to every submissive instinct I'd spent years suppressing. The relief of finally allowing those instincts free rein had been more intoxicating than any wine.
"Break's over!" Sergeant Korven's bellow scattered our conversation, sending us back to formation for blade work. But as we moved through the afternoon drills, I found myself thinking about Alyon's words. About the difference between overthinking and trusting instinct.
About the way Kaelen watched me sometimes, with an expression that suggested he was cataloging my responses, learning the map of my desires. There was something almost scientific about his approach to dominance—methodical, thorough, designed to achieve maximum effect with minimum effort.
I wondered what he was planning for tonight.
The thought sent anticipation spiraling through my belly, making it difficult to concentrate on footwork and blade angles. More than once, Sergeant Korven had to correct my form, his sharp criticism drawingsnickers from some of the younger militants. But I found I didn't care. Let them think the bond was distracting me from my duties. They weren't entirely wrong—though they had no idea how welcome that distraction was.
When training finally ended and we were dismissed to evening meal, I hurried through the usual post-drill routine. Quick wash at the communal basins, change into clean robes, brief consultation with Talis about tomorrow's patrol assignments. All the mundane business of military life that suddenly felt secondary to more pressing needs.
The bonded quarters were quiet when I arrived, late afternoon sun streaming through the tall windows and painting everything in shades of gold and amber. Kaelen sat in his reading nook, a thick volume open in his lap, dark hair catching the light as he bent over some complex passage. The sight of him—relaxed, absorbed, beautiful in the way scholarly men could be when lost in intellectual pursuit—made my chest tight with something I was beginning to recognize as belonging.
Not possession, which was what I'd been taught to expect from bonds. Something softer but no less powerful—the deep satisfaction of being exactly where I was meant to be.
"How was training?" he asked without looking up, though his slight smile suggested he was perfectly aware of my presence.
"Productive," I said, moving closer. "Though I found myself somewhat... distracted."
That earned me a glance, storm-grey eyes warm with amusement. "Distracted by what?"
Instead of answering with words, I settled onto the cushions beside his chair, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his body. The position put me slightly below him—not kneeling, but clearly deferential. It felt natural as breathing.
"By wondering what you were thinking about," I said. "What you were planning. What you might want from me tonight."
His book closed with a soft thud, attention now fully focused on me. "And what do you think I might want?"
The question sent heat racing through my veins. "I think you want me to stop thinking so much and start trusting my instincts. Alyon said bodies know what they want."
"Wise advice." Kaelen set the book aside and leaned forward, one hand coming to rest on my shoulder. The touch was light, almost casual, but it sent shivers racing down my spine. "What do your instincts tell you right now?"
I looked at him—really looked. Noted the slight tension in his shoulders that spoke of long hours hunched over texts. The way his free hand rested loose in his lap, elegant fingers that had brought me such exquisite pleasure just nights ago. The faint lines around his eyes that suggested he'd been squinting at small print for too long.
"That you've been working hard today," I saidslowly. "That you're tired, probably thirsty. That you could use some care."
Something flickered in his expression—surprise, perhaps, or approval. "And?"
"And that taking care of you would make me happy." The admission came easier than expected, though it still felt revolutionary to speak such desires aloud. "That serving your comfort feels more natural than commanding my own."
The hand on my shoulder tightened fractionally, fingers pressing against muscle in a way that spoke of possession without words. "Show me."
The simple command sent fire through my veins. I rose smoothly, moving to the low table where refreshments waited in crystal decanters. The wine was good—a deep red that caught the afternoon light like liquid garnets—and I poured it carefully into one of the golden chalices that marked our elevated status as bonded pairs.
