This time there was no mistaking it for pain.
Astra’s pleasure came through the bond as pressure under the ribs, heat in the blood, a body feeling desire.
Kieran turned away so fast his boot scraped the floor.
I looked at the rack of staves and tried to block the sensations from my mind.
There were some doors a man had no right to stand at, even when the Mark dragged him close.
“Quill will know,” Marsh said.
“Not from the basin.”
“From us.”
“Only if we give him something to see.”
He looked back at me.
“She isn’t in pain,” he said.
“No.”
“She isn’t afraid.”
“No.”
“She chose him.”
“For now.”
Kieran’s face tightened.
“And if she keeps choosing him?”
“Then she keeps choosing him.”
“If she closes us out?”
I looked at the stave rack again because it was easier than looking at him and seeing the fear in his eyes.
“Then she closes us out. It’s her choice.”
For a moment, the salle was only wood and breath and the two of us learning how little wanting mattered.
Kieran looked toward the upper corridors.
“She can do that.”
“Yes.”
“I hate that.”
“So do I.”
He stared at me for a long moment.
Then he crossed to the opposite wall and sat on the floor with his back against the wood paneling, left knee raised, right leg straight. His right shoulder stayed too still.
