“Maybe we should stay merged for a while longer. You’re doing well–”
“I know the merge works now. I’m fine. It’s time to get out.”
There’s a pause, and then I feel him moving. It’s the strangest sensation, like he’s flowing out of me in reverse. He pours through my legs and pools at my feet in a puddle of black and silvery liquid that gleams under the bathroom light, then he separates from me completely, sliding across the tile floor and reforming into his humanoid shape.
I cross my arms over my chest, acutely aware of how sensitive my breasts are. Damn it. He’s doing things to my body he definitely shouldn’t be doing.
“Tell me what you eat,” I say out loud.
He straightens, his black eyes meeting mine. “Your energy.”
“What?”
“It’s in the contract.” His voice is hesitant, almost apologetic. “The reason symbiotes need hosts is because we feed off other people’s energy. Bioelectrical energy, the electrical impulses that run through your nervous system and keep your body functioning. You generate more of it than you use, so under normal circumstances, we can feed without causing harm.”
I stare at him.
“That’s why people call you parasites.”
“Yes.” He looks away. “But we’re not parasites. For a taste of energy, we give so much in exchange. Protection, strength, healing.”
“How often do you need to feed?”
“I can feed just a little, now and then, throughout the day. You won’t even feel it.” He pauses. “But once a week, I need a serious feed. A complete one, where I take more from you.”
“What will that do to me?”
“You’ll feel extremely exhausted. There will be muscle weakness, you might feel cold or shaky. You’ll need to eat a lot to compensate, and you’ll have to sleep ten to twelve hours.”
“Ten to twelve hours?” My voice rises. “I don’t have time to sleep that long. Who the hell sleeps for twelve hours?”
“I’m sorry.” He takes a step back, his expression pained. “I’ll try not to feed that much off you. I don’t want to inconvenience you.”
Guilt replaces my anger. He looks genuinely distressed, and here I am yelling at him for needing to eat. I feel like an asshole.
“It’s not an inconvenience,” I say quickly.
I should have read the damn contract. I was too busy obsessing over Zeth and our first failed merge to pay attention to the details. This is my fault, not his.
I take a breath and meet his eyes.
“If this is the way you eat, then it would be horrible of me to expect you to hold back just because this is new to me and I’m feeling slightly uncomfortable. I’ll learn how to deal with it. Of course, you must feed whenever you need to.”
He’s quiet for a moment, studying my face. Then he says, in a low, appreciative voice:
“You are a wonderful person. I’m lucky to be working with you.”
My eyes widen. I don’t know how to respond to that. No man has ever spoken to me the way Zeth does. I don’t know how to take a compliment like that.
We stand there, close enough that I could reach out and touch him. And that’s when I realize something else. He smells like me, as if his skin has absorbed my personal scent during the merge. It’s strange, intimate and awkward, and I have no idea what to do with that information.
So, I keep staring at him like a fool, trying to figure out what the hell I’m supposed to say.
Chapter Nine
Zeth
Wren scoffs at my compliment and shakes her head like she doesn’t believe a word I said. She waves me out of the bathroom.
