I made myself a mental note to ask Ezra about it later—if Ezra could be trusted.
When Cristian saw me, something eased in his expression. He crossed the distance between us and reached up, his fingers trailing down my face. The bond quieted, settling into that calm that always came with his touch. The jittering, anxious static inmy chest melted away. I was beginning to wonder if that was the bond’s doing… or just him.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
He looked past me, toward the dark trees at the edge of the property. “I cannot find my brother. The court will not tell me how to break the bond. Every attempt ends where it begins.”
I sighed and rubbed slow circles between his shoulder blades. “You’ll figure it out. I know you will.”
His lips curved faintly at that, though the expression didn’t hold.
After a beat, I decided to risk it. “How are you feeling about Ezra these days? Does he still make you uneasy?”
Cristian went still. Not visibly, not dramatically, but it was a subtle shift that only someone tethered to him could feel. His pulse, the one I could sense through the bond, spiked almost imperceptibly.
“Why do you ask?” His tone was even, but there was a thread of steel beneath it.
I hesitated, caught off guard by the sudden change. “No reason. Just curious.”
His gaze sharpened. “Has he said something to you?”
“Nothing, really. Just… tech stuff. Court things. He’s helping, isn’t he?” I forced a light tone, too light.
Cristian didn’t answer. He studied me, eyes tracing my face as if searching for something I wasn’t saying. Then his shoulders dropped, the tension smoothing back into calm.
“He is useful,” he said finally. But the words were too measured, too controlled.
Cristian’s hand was on my waist, his thumb moving just enough to make my breath catch. Neither of us spoke for a beat.
“You are still pale,” he said finally. “Perhaps I should not have left you this morning.”
“I’m fine.” My voice came out softer than I meant. “Just tired.”
His gaze dropped to my mouth, then back up again. “You should rest.”
“Having a hard time shutting off my brain enough to rest.”
He gave a faint, humorless smile. “Then I will help you rest.”
The words shouldn’t have sounded like that—quiet, careful, charged. His thumb brushed the edge of my jaw and the bond pulsed in time with my heartbeat. My head tipped toward him before I could stop it.
He leaned closer. “You smell like soap and sunlight,” he said, almost to himself. “How is that possible?”
“Good genetics?” I whispered.
He laughed under his breath, a short, disbelieving sound. Then he kissed the side of my neck—light, testing. The air between us tightened.
My pulse stumbled. His did too.
“Cristian…” I meant to say something rational, but the words dissolved when he pressed his forehead against mine.
“You’re shaking,” he said.
“You’re the reason.”
Something like a mix between a groan and a laugh escaped him. He drew back just enough to look at me. The line of his mouth softened. “I need a shower,” he murmured. “And you… are not leaving my sight.”
He took my hand and turned toward the stairs, still close enough that I could feel the heat of him. The bond tugged again, impossible to ignore.
