"Loudly." He rose again, pacing to the window. "You need quiet to recover. Peace. Not servants crashing about with their various bodily functions."
She watched him stand there, backlit by morning sun, all coiled tension and barely leashed concern. It was so at odds with the cold, controlled lord who'd first claimed her. She wasn’t sure what to make of it or when things would change again. Eliam was anything but predictable.
"Why?" The question slipped out before she could stop it.
"Why what?"
"Why do you care so much? I'm just property, remember? Just a human pet who happens to carry mysteries in her chest."
He turned from the window, and something in his expression made her heart skip. Not the calculated possession she knew, but something rawer. More confused.
"You..." He paused, seeming to search for words. "You threw yourself at danger. For me. Without thought or hesitation."
"So?"
"So?" He crossed back to her bed in three quick strides. "So you nearly died. Again. Do you know what I felt when you went under that ice?"
“You’ve told me many times how—”
“Nothow,” he interrupted. “What.”
She shook her head, caught by the intensity in his eyes.
"Nothing." The word came out harsh. "For one moment, I felt nothing. No mark connection. No warmth. Just... absence. Like something had been torn out." His hands gripped the bedpost. "I didn't enjoy it."
"Oh."
"Oh?" He laughed, but there was no humor in it. "You nearly died, and when I pulled you out, you were so cold. So still. And all I could think was that I was going to lose you before I understood..."
"Understood what?"
He stared at her for a long moment, then shook his head. "It doesn't matter. What matters is you healing. Properly. Without any more heroics."
"I can't promise that."
"You will promise exactly that." He leaned down, bracing his hands on either side of her. "No more protecting me. No more rivers. No more anything that puts you at risk unless I deem it."
"That's not reasonable."
"I'm not reasonable." His face was inches from hers now. "I'm possessive and controlling and apparently I bring you flowers with breakfast because seeing color in your cheeks matters more than my dignity."
The admission hung between them, raw and unexpected.
"Eliam," she breathed.
"Don't." He pulled back, but not far. "Don't look at me like that. Like I'm... something I'm not."
"Like what?"
"Like someone capable of caring." But his hand came up to cup her cheek anyway, thumb tracing her cheekbone with devastating gentleness. "I'm not. I just... require you to be functional. For my purposes."
"Of course." She turned her face into his palm, feeling him shudder. "Very practical."
"Stop that."
"Stop what?"
"Making this... complicated."
