“And him,” Jacqui adds, looking at the warrior towering over me. “He’s practically screaming it back.”
The chatter dies instantly.
Pam’s eyes shift to Sarven, then widen as she really looks at him. At the loincloth. At the way he’s looming over me like a possessive gargoyle. At the bits of starry darkness that haven’t faded from his skin yet.
Her mouth drops open as she looks at me, then at him, then back at me. “You… you guys didn’t.”
“In the tunnels?” Erika asks, eyebrows shooting up. “Seriously?”
Heat floods my face.
“We almost died,” I defend weakly. “It was a high-stress situation. Adrenaline. You know.”
“Uh-huh,” Erika says, but she’s smiling. A real, genuine smile. “Adrenaline. Sure.”
“They’re bonded,” Justine announces to the group, beaming. “Look at him. He’s fully transformed. The dust chose.”
“And you accepted,” Jacqui adds softly to me.
The realization ripples through the human women. Another one of us has a protector who will burn the world down before letting her get hurt.
Pam grabs my hand, squeezing it. “I knew it! I told you he was making you things! I told you!”
“Okay, okay,” I laugh, overwhelmed.
Rok breaks away from the group of Drakav near the fire. A wide, delighted grin cracks his face.
“At last,” he projects, voice booming in the mindspace. He claps Sarven’s shoulder with a meaty hand that would have knocked me flat. “You stop walking around like a kicked sand-runner, hm?”
Laughter ripples through the mindspace.
Sarven huffs out a breath, but his embarrassment is underlaid with fierce, feral pride. If he had a tail, I’m pretty sure it would be wagging.
“Mated,” Rok adds more quietly, with a note of deep satisfaction. “Good.”
Then the crowd parts as Kol steps forward.
“You return,” he says, and whoa, Kol’s voice in the mindspace is like hearing Optimus Prime in your head. “Whole.”
“Mostly,” I answer aloud, because old habits die hard.
Alex blinks, looking between Kol’s silent, impassive face and me. She clearly didn’t hear what he said, but she definitely heard my answer. And for a nurse, the word ‘mostly’ is apparently a trigger.
“I don’t know what he asked,” Alex interjects, stepping forward from the circle of women, “but I don’t like that answer. Define ‘mostly.’” Her tired smile is gone, replaced by the look that could make grown marines confess their sins. “Sit.”
“I don’t need to?—”
Sarven’s hand nudges my hip.
“Sit,” he echoes unhelpfully, sending an image of me collapsing like a rag doll if I don’t.
Traitor.
I sigh and drop onto the nearest flat rock.
Alex crouches, fingers pressing instantly against the pulse point at my wrist while the back of her other hand goes to my forehead. She counts silently for a moment, brow furrowed, then peels back one of my eyelids to check my pupil response.
“Huh,” she says finally, dropping my wrist. She’s frowning at me like my pulse just told a lie. “Heart rate is strong. Steady. Your temperature is actually… normal. How’s your head?”
