They made me braver. Sharper. More whole.
And I made them the same.
Together, we were something Voss could never predict. Never control.
Inevitable.
I stepped into my quarters and let the door hiss shut behind me.
My clothes hit the floor. The refresher's heat enveloped me, steam rising, water sluicing over my skin. I closed my eyes and let myself feel it—not just the warmth, but the anticipation thrumming beneath it.
The tether wasn't a leash.
It was a promise.
I knew exactly what I needed to do next. Not because I was desperate or afraid. Not because I owed them anything.
Because I wanted it.
For the first time in my life, I wasn't second-guessing myself.
I was ready to let them in.
All of them.
I stood in front of my closet, water still beading on my skin, and pulled out the dress.
The single-shoulder gown shimmered like liquid starlight in my hands, galaxies drifting across the fabric—alive within the weave. When I brushed it, constellations scattered and slowly reformed, as if the universe itself had been woven into the material.
I slipped it on, the fabric cool against my heated skin. It bared my left arm and shoulder completely, clinging to every curve before falling in soft waves to the floor. I twisted my hair into something deliberately undone—a few loose strands framing my face. A touch of color on my lips. Enough kohl to make my eyes dangerous.
I checked the mirror and barely recognized myself.
Not the scientist. Not the captive. Not the woman who'd spent years second-guessing every decision.
This version of me was something else entirely.
Confident. Powerful. Hungry.
I smiled, slow and sharp.
Perfect.
I closed my eyes and reached for the bond—not tentatively this time, but deliberately. I pulled the image of myself from the mirror and sent it down the tether like a flare.
Look at me. See what I'm offering you.
I wrapped it in pure desire—no hesitation, no fear. Just want.
The response hit me like a shockwave.
Four distinct pulses of raw need crashed through the bond, each one different but equally overwhelming. Torvyn's was controlled fire—banked heat threatening to consume everything. Kaedren's was feral, possessive, almost violent in its intensity. Lyrin's rolled through me like a storm surge, all-encompassing and impossibly tender. Vaelix's was sharp, focused, hungry in a way that made my breath catch.
My knees buckled. I grabbed the edge of the vanity, gasping, as pleasure I hadn't earned yet flooded my nervous system.
This time, I didn't fight it.
I let it pour into me—their want, their need, their desperate hope that I meant this. That I was really coming to them.
