“It is not designed for efficiency,” I reply. “It is designed for survival.”
Her breathing remains rhythmic now, but I feel a ripple of something softer move through the bond.
“And you feel it all?” she asks quietly.
“Yes.”
“My fear.”
“Yes.”
She hesitates.
“And… other things?”
The question lingers between us. I meet her gaze evenly.
“Yes.”
A faint flush rises along her cheeks as she understands exactly what that means. For a moment neither of us speaks. Then she exhales slowly and straightens slightly beneath my hand.
“I think it’s working,” she says.
“It is. You are doing well.”
Her pulse is calm now. The bond hums steadily between us, its heat controlled rather than volatile. She smiles faintly.
“I didn’t burn anything.”
“An impressive accomplishment.”
Her eyes narrow.
“Was that sarcasm?”
“Perhaps.”
She huffs softly, though the smile at the corner of her mouth betrays her. The warmth in the bond deepens again, but this time it carries no threat of fire.
“You’re very good at this, you know,” she murmurs.
“I have had time to practice.”
“Centuries, I assume?”
“Something like that.”
Her eyes drift to my mouth.
“You’re still very close.”
“You noticed.”
“You’re smug about it.”
“Of course I am. My mate is gorgeous. Am I supposed to pretend I don’t find you devastatingly beautiful, princess?”
A faint flush warms her cheeks, though her breathing remains unwavering. The bond reacts differently now. Desire begins threading through the connection, subtle at first but growing stronger with every passing second.
