She kissed me. Brief and hard and full of promise.
“When this is done,” she agreed. “But Kallum?”
“Yes?”
“What happens if this becomes more than just tonight?”
The question I’d been avoiding. The one I had to answer before we went any further.
“There’s something you need to understand,” I said. “About Vinduthi. About what happens when we mate.”
She went still. Listening.
“It’s not like human bonding. It’s biological. Permanent.” I made myself hold her gaze. “If we claim each other, my sigils will mark your skin. You’d feel what I feel. I’d feel what you feel. A constant connection, both directions, that can’t be undone.”
“Can’t be undone,” she repeated. “Ever?”
“Ever. There’s no separation. No changing your mind later.” I touched her face, gently. “I’ve watched my brothers go through it with their mates. It changes everything. But it’s permanent, Anhara. I need you to understand that before we go any further.”
She turned that over.
“And if we just... don’t claim? If we’re careful?”
“We can be careful tonight. But I wanted you to know what’s possible. What I’d want, eventually, if this becomes what I think it’s becoming.”
Her eyes searched my face. “Does it scare you? Being that connected to someone?”
I thought about it. Really thought, the way she deserved.
“I’ve been alone my whole life,” I said. “Even with my brothers, even with the team. There’s always been a distance. A wall I couldn’t...” I stopped. The words weren’t right. “I don’t know how to explain it.”
“Try.”
I looked at her. At the patience in her face, the openness. She wasn’t demanding an answer. She was giving me space to find one.
“When I’m with you,” I said slowly, “things feel different. The distance feels smaller. Like maybe I don’t have to keep everyone out just to keep myself intact.” I traced her cheekbone with my thumb. “I don’t have better words than that.”
“Those words are enough.”
“The answer is no. It doesn’t scare me.” I held her gaze. “The only thing that scares me is the thought of losing you before I’ve had the chance to know what we could be.”
She exhaled. A shaky sound. She pressed her face into my hand for a moment, and I felt the tremor in her shoulders.
“After,” she said. Softer now. A promise.
“After.”
Outside, the morning light was growing stronger. The ridge cat had moved on. The perimeter was secure, at least for now.
I bent to pick up her shirt, handed it to her. Our fingers touched in the transfer, and even that small contact sent heat through me.
Only hours until the reinforcements arrived.
I intended to survive every one of them.
ANHARA
The comm intercept came at sunset.
