“I cannot leave,” he said simply. “Nor can you. It binds us both.” He glanced around the kitchen. “And I have nowhere to go. I know no one. I understand nothing of this place.”
There it was—the smallest glimmer of emotion, buried beneath all that composure. Loneliness, stark and brief, before his face went still again.
And because I’m a sucker for tragic eyes and historical trauma, guilt flared right through my annoyance.
“Fuck me,” I muttered.
He straightened. “Excuse me? You want me to do what? I do not understand this concept of?—”
“Oh my god,” I groaned, covering my face. “It’s an expression.”
I went to the counter for something to do with my hands. Coffee mug. Cracked. Perfect. Pretend to care about that. Don’t think about the half-naked man explaining metaphysical bondage like it’s a weather report.
My hands shook. The mug clinked against the counter.
Then I felt him move closer. Not touching. Just near. And suddenly, my shaking slowed. The tightness in my chest loosened.
“When you stand closer,” I said quietly, “I stop shaking. That’s fucked up.”
“Useful, though,” he said.
I looked up. He wasn’t smiling. Neither was I. We just stood there, too close, not moving, like our nervous systems had made a pact without consulting us.
The air stretched.
He swallowed, his gaze dropping to my throat. For a moment he looked confused, almost startled.
His stare locked on my neck.
“I am… so hungry,” he said, low and rough. He leaned in, seemingly drawn forward like it was instinct.
“Absolutely not.” I shoved at his chest, stumbling back. “Personal space. We use that here.”
He blinked, as if pulling himself out of a trance. “I did not intend to move. The bond reacts before I do.”
“Great. Love that for me.”
He hovered where he was, rigid, fighting whatever had taken hold of him his gaze holding mine.
Finally, I broke it. “I can’t deal with this. I’m going to bed.”
He followed me down the hall. Apparently, privacy died in 1650.
“What are you doing?” I asked, glancing back.
“You appear unstable,” he said matter-of-factly. “It is not wise to sleep alone while unguarded.”
I glared.
“While we are bound together, it only makes sense to collaborate to ensure our well-being, no matter how little either of us want to. I meant only that I will keep watch. Nothing improper.”
“Oh, sure, that helps,” I said.
I bolted into the bedroom, slammed the door, and locked it. My heart thudded against the wood.
From the other side came his voice, deep but steady. “You lock me out, you suffer. That is your choice.”
“Absolutely fucking not,” I said.
