“It’s different with her,” Grayson muttered. “The bond… It’s too much. It’s like every time I look at her, I—” He cut himself off, shaking his head. “It’s too much.”
“And what happens if she finds out you’ve been holding back? About Theodore, about the danger she’s in? You think she’ll thank you for keeping her out of the loop?”
Grayson didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. The knot of guilt in his stomach said enough.
“Exactly,” Zane said, reading the silence for what it was. “Look, I get that you’re trying to protect her. But lying to her? Keeping her at arm’s length? That’s not protecting her. That’s controlling her. And trust me, that’s not gonna end well. Beyond anything, she can’t properly protect herself if she doesn’t realize how serious the situation is. She deserves to know she’s a target.”
Grayson exhaled sharply and dipped his head as he rubbed the back of his neck. “So what? I just tell her everything? Dump all this on her and hope for the best?”
“Maybe not all at once. Ease into it. Start with the truth about Theodore. Let her know what’s at stake. Let her fight alongside you instead of for you.”
“And if she can’t handle it?”
“Then you help her handle it,” Zane said simply. “You have her back, and we have yours. Use it.”
Grayson stared at his empty bottle. Zane was right, as much as he hated to admit it. Keeping Cora in the dark wasn’t protecting her. It was just making it harder for her to protect herself.
“I’ll think about it,” Grayson finally said.
“Good,” Zane responded. “Because if you don’t, she’s gonna figure it out on her own, and trust me, you do not want to be on the receiving end of that conversation.”
“You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?”
“Yeah, but you love me,” Zane said with a wink. “Now, finish your beer. You’re paying for the next round.”
Grayson shook his head, but for the first time in days, he felt as though he could tackle this situation. He didn’t have all the answers—hell, he didn’t have any of them—but maybe he was starting to figure out the right questions.
***
Later that night, Grayson reclined on the couch in Cora’s apartment with one arm slung over his eyes, trying to force himself to sleep. The quiet of the apartment wasn’t unfamiliar now, but it grated on him tonight. Cora was asleep in the next room, safe and sound, but he still couldn’t quiet his mind.
He huffed out a breath and adjusted his position, glaring at the ceiling. Somewhere beyond the thin wall separating the living room from her bedroom, Cora was likely tossing and turning as well. The thought of her just a few feet away stirred something in him that he didn’t dare name. It was the same tug that had been pulling at him since the bond had locked them together—desire, yes, but more than that. A craving for connection, for her presence, for the way she somehow made him feel both grounded and completely out of control.
Eventually, exhaustion won out, and he drifted into a restless sleep.
In his dream, Cora was standing at the edge of the training field with those lavender eyes alight with challenge. She smirked as she raised her hands, and magic sparked at her fingertips.
“Think you can keep up this time?” she teased.
Grayson advanced without answering, but his stupid, lovesick grin gave him away. She didn’t back down. Her stance was confident, and she kept her attention locked on his. He didn’t stop until they were a breath apart and the heat between them scorched. When she tilted her chin up to meet his eyes, he was undone.
“Careful,” she mocked. “You might get burned.”
“You think I’m afraid of a little heat?” he countered, reaching for her waist.
The instant his fingers brushed her hip bones, she melted into him. The electric thrill of her skin against his seared through him, and when she leaned up to press her lips to his, it was fire, consuming and unabated, pulling him under until there was nothing left but her.
Her hands slid up his chest, fisting his shirt, and she moaned against his mouth. The sound shattered what was left of his control. He hauled her closer, and every instinct in his body was screaming that she was his. His mate. His match.
She broke the kiss and smiled with red and swollen lips. His hand came up to cup her cheek and stroke his thumb over her bottom lip. Her tongue darted out to meet the touch, and his breath stuttered.
She pulled his thumb into her mouth, sucking lightly, and he felt his entire world shift on its axis. He wanted her. Wanted all of her—every single thing she had to give, and then some.
With a low growl, he wrapped his arms around her and lifted her, her legs wrapping around his hips as he backed her up against the nearest tree. Her lips were everywhere, on his neck, his collarbone, and she arched her back, pressing herself against him. His mouth fell open as he struggled to keep his thoughts straight. He needed her. All of her. Needed her naked and panting and writhing under him. He needed to bury himself inside her, claim her, mark her.
His.
He woke with a jolt, and the dream dissolved like smoke. His breath came hard and fast, and his body was taut with frustration. The apartment was quiet, with the only sound being the faint ticking of a clock on the wall.
