I still don’t fully understand how it all works. How my Threads moved to him, how he felt me thinking about him in the Rec Hall. Was it just my arousal he could sense?
“Is that how you knew where I was?” I ask. “When I was in Ashvale, during the fire? That's how you found me, you could sense my Threads?”
“I felt it,” he says, voice strained, dragging a hand over his jaw. “Your fear. It was the same with Beth, I knew something was wrong, but I was too far to tell how bad. I thought maybe—” He cuts off, shaking his head. “I didn’t know you were okay until I got back and Lucien told me.”
My stomach knots at the name.
Talen sees it.
“Don’t, don’t do that, don’t feel bad for Lucien.” His hand cups my face. “She was just one of many in his bed this semester, okay?” His eyes search mine. “He used her just as much as she used him. And remember,she called you.”
His words should help, but my mind suddenly drifts elsewhere, and I can’t help but wonder if Talen shares similar habits to Lucien. A flash of women in his bed, doing what we just did, fills my mind, unwelcome.
“You and Lucien… Have you known each other long?” I keep my voice casual, or try to, but he catches it—the edge of judgment I meant to hide but didn’t quite manage.
“Yeah, I know,” he laughs. “He can be a bit... obnoxious. But we go way back. I owe him my life.”
I arch a brow, curious, but I don’t push. Not if it’ll make him close off, but to my surprise, he keeps talking.
“When we were junior officers, I got sent on a training mission to the Outerlands without him. Shit went wrong. A lot of people died, and we lost something the Citadel didn’t want to admit we ever had.”
He exhales hard, eyes fixed somewhere past the ceiling. “It wasn’t one person’s fault. Just… everything collapsing at once. Bad intel. Missed signals. Timing. But I was the lead on that patrol.” A pause. “When we got back to the Citadel, they needed someone to blame. Said if no one took responsibility, they’d punish all of us. Maybe kill a few. Most of the patrol were new. Cadets. Kids.”
He swallows hard, the muscles in his jaw pulling tight. I shift, slow, and slide my hand over his. No words, just skin against skin, grounding. He doesn't pull away.
“So me and another officer stepped forward. Took the fall.” He continues. “They sentenced us to thirty days of torture and kept us in total darkness.”He says it like a fact. No weight on it. Like if he gives it emotion, something will crack open again. “ I had no idea when one day ended and the next began. No sun. No night. Just pain. Over and over again.” He swallows again. “Lucien pulled some strings, found a loophole, got me out early. Day twelve. If he hadn’t… I don’t think I would have made it another night.” He shakes his head, voice drops lower. “Now I wake up before dawn. Every day. Doesn’t matter how tired I am. If I miss the sun coming up, even for a second, it feels like I’m still down there.”
I should say something. Sorry, maybe. Or that it wasn’t fair. But the words feel useless, too clean for what he’s describing.
So instead, I shift closer, slow, careful not to startle whatever this is between us. But as I move, I can’t help but notice the scars along his ribs—and the mark just above his heart.
“Is that how you got this?” My fingers brush over his chest, light, tracing the edge.
“The scars, yeah. The mark on my heart, no. That’s just a birthmark, got it from my mum.”
Before I can ask more, his fingers brush over my hand.
“What about you?” he asks, tracing the edge of my scar. “What’s this story?”
He doesn’t look at me when he says it. I get the message. The other conversation’s over, door closed. I don't want to talk about it, but I can’t shut down now. Not when he’s just let me in.
“My mum... she, um, died in a fire when I was seven. I don’t know how it started. But somewhere deep down, I’ve always felt like it was my fault.” The words sit there, raw and ugly. “That’s why fire scares me so much.”
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs as his fingers slide through my hair.
I must’ve yawned, because Talen pulls me in closer, “You seem tired?”
God, I am. Not just from tonight, or this week. It’s the weight I’ve been dragging for the past seven months. I’ve been so tense I forgot what safe felt like.And now, wrapped in his arms, I feel it. For the first time since I got here.
But letting him fuck me is one thing; letting him sleep beside me is something else completely.
As if he senses the hesitation. “Don’t worry. I haven’t forgotten you don’t trust me. This is just for tonight, right?”
I pause for a second, but I'm too tired to argue. “Just tonight,” I agree and roll over, his arms wrapping around me.
My eyes close, but my mind doesn’t stop, because the truth’s already there, curling in my chest under his warm touch.
I don’t want just tonight. I want tomorrow. I want the next day. I wantmore. More of this distraction, of him.
