“It roared without provocation.”
Ezra wiped tears from his eyes. “You know it’s notalive,right?”
“Not anymore,” I muttered.
Nadia stepped closer. Her fingers brushed my arm. “You were trying to help, huh?”
I looked at her hand, then her eyes. The warmth there undid something in me. “I merely wished to be… useful.”
Ezra grinned. “This guy needs a YouTube channel.”
I growled low in my throat. Ezra’s grin faltered, though Nadia snorted and tried to hide it behind her hand. The sound twisted in my chest. Not anger. Something heavier. I was not built for this world. Not for these humming machines. Not for her laughter when it wasn’t for me.
You are centuries out of place. She needs someone who doesn’t destroy her machines.
I stepped back, dust and glitter falling from me. “Forgive me. I shall clean this… battlefield.”
She touched my cheek. Glitter stuck to her fingertip. “It’s okay. It’s just a vacuum. I like that you tried.”
That nearly finished me. I swallowed what I wanted to say. Instead, I bent to gather the wreckage, glitter still clinging to my skin.
Behind me, Ezra muttered, “Dude really did go full medieval on it.”
I did not respond. But I filed the phrase away.Full medieval.
I would ask Alexa about it later.
The house was still. The moon lay itself over the floors in silver. Tonight, I paced the length of the hall like a man with no country.
I was meant to be outside, guarding the grounds, working on strategies. I was meant to be pretending that all of this was still within my control. Instead, something in my chest refused to obey.
Check the perimeter.Ensure her safety.
Yet my steps carried me toward her room, drawn by the quiet pull behind my ribs. The insolent bond tugged me down the hall like I was its captive.
This is temporary,I told myself.When the danger ends, when the bond is broken, she will leave, and I will forget.
But the memory of her laughing with Ezra cut through that thought like a blade.
The bond pulsed as I neared her door. Not gentle now, but feral. Every step pulled it tighter, until I could feel it vibrating against my sternum.
The door was cracked open. I told myself that checking on her was only a precaution. I would ensure her safety and leave. That was all.
Then I saw her, curled in the center of the bed, bare legs tangled in the sheets. Wearing my shirt. The linen one she had taken from the laundry. It hung loose on her shoulders, sliding down one arm. The hem barely reached mid-thigh. My shirt, her skin.
My undoing.
I gripped the doorframe so hard the wood creaked. My fangs ached in my jaw. My body went rigid with the kind of restraint that hurts.
I watched the rise and fall of her chest. Watched the soft shape of her mouth as she slept. My pulse matched hers.
One step,I thought.One step forward and I can touch her. Just once.
The memory of her skin against my tongue slammed into me. Her taste. The way she’d trembled. The way she’d said my name like it was a secret.
My hand slipped from the doorframe, reaching before my mind caught up. I stopped it just in time, curling my fingers back into the wood. Splinters dug into my palm. Good. Pain was useful.
This is not who I am. I do not hover at doorways. I do not yearn. I do not fall to my knees for a mortal woman who laughs at my inability to operate a toaster.
