Not a person. A thing.
I found myself outside without remembering how I got there. The evening air was cold against my cheeks. I realized I was crying only when the wind made the tears sting.
"Lumi?"
James.
He was crossing the quad toward me, concern etched into every line of his face. He must have felt my distress through the bond. Must have come looking the moment it spiked.
"Hey." He reached me, hands finding my shoulders. "What happened? What's wrong?"
I couldn't answer. The words stuck in my throat.
"Okay. It's okay." He pulled me against his chest, wrapped his arms around me. "You don't have to talk. Just breathe."
I buried my face in his shirt and let myself fall apart.
He held me through it. Didn't ask questions, didn't push. Just stood there in the middle of the quad, his warmth surrounding me, his heartbeat steady against my ear.
When the sobs finally slowed, he spoke.
"Whatever it is, it doesn't change anything."
"You don't know what it is."
"Doesn't matter." He pulled back just enough to look at me. His eyes were fierce. Certain. "You're Lumi. You're pack. You're mine. Nothing else matters."
"Neal has data. Charts. Proof that the ferals only improve when I'm around. Like I'm some kind of—"
"You're not some kind of anything." His hands cupped my face. "You're you. And if being around you helps them heal, that's not a flaw. That's a gift."
"It doesn't feel like a gift. It feels like being studied. Catalogued."
"Then stop letting them do that." His thumb brushed away a tear. "You're not a problem to solve, Lumi. You're not data. You're the woman I love. And anyone who makes you feel like less than that can answer to me."
The fierceness in his voice made something crack open in my chest.
"James..."
"I mean it." He leaned in, pressed his forehead to mine. "I don't care what you can do or why you can do it. I care about you. The person. Not the effect."
"What if they're the same thing?"
"They're not." His breath was warm against my lips. "I've seen you, Lumi. The real you. The girl who stayed with Stone when everyone else ran. The girl who crawled into bed with Cal when he had nightmares. The girl who makes terrible coffee and laughs too loud and argues with me about everything."
I almost smiled. "I don't argue about everything."
"You're arguing right now."
"That's different."
"See?" His lips curved. "That's the woman I love. Not some variable. Not some data point. You."
He kissed me.
It started soft. Gentle. A reassurance more than a demand. But I was raw and desperate and aching for something to hold onto, and I kissed him back with everything I had.
He groaned against my mouth.
