That surprised me. Dravok and her seemed to be, well,fusedtogether. “You did?”
She nodded. “Dravok and I were subjected to an intense biological urge almost immediately. Elevated dopamine, oxytocin, heart rate variability, altered sleep patterns, increased sensory awareness.” Her mouth curved slightly. “From a purely biochemical standpoint, the bond is extraordinarily persuasive.”
I stared at her. She was putting my fear into the perfect words. “Exactly.”
Nadine folded her hands on the table. “So I treated it like a hypothesis. If the bond were solely coercive, my emotional responses would be limited to instinctive attraction and dependency.”
Ella smiled into her tea. “That sounds very Nadine.”
Nadine ignored her. “But then I discovered my feelings deepened when Dravok was absent. I missed his specific humor. His intellect. The way he listens before speaking. The way he notices details others overlook. Those are not generalized bond responses. Those are individual attachments.”
The tension in my chest loosened slightly. “So you fell in love with him.”
A faint blush rose on Nadine’s cheeks. “Yes,” she admitted quietly. “In addition to the bond.”
Ella reached over and squeezed my hand. “I fought it too.”
I turned to her. Her expression softened, blue eyes luminous with understanding.
“When I first met Zapharos, I thought the bond was some cosmic trick. I was angry. Terrified. And if I’m honest, I didn’t appreciate having a seven-foot golden warrior suddenly deciding I belonged to him.”
I laughed again. “That sounds familiar.”
Her smile widened. “The bond made me notice him. It opened a door. But it didn’t create what came after.”
“What came after?” I asked.
Ella’s gaze grew distant and tender. “The way he carries the weight of everyone around him and still makes room for me. The way he touches me like I’m precious. The way he tries so hard to understand my world.” Her voice thickened. “The bond may have introduced us, but I fell in love with Zapharos.”
She squeezed my fingers again. “If the bond vanished tomorrow, I would still choose him.”
Emotion rose unexpectedly in my throat.
Nadine nodded. “Same.”
The certainty in their voices hit me harder than I expected. For days, I had been clinging to the idea that my feelings for Thyros were artificial. Manufactured. Convenient. A cosmic compulsion.
But when I thought of him, what overwhelmed me was not simply desire. It was the memory of his fierce vulnerability. The way his hands trembled when he showed me the mark on his back. The way he had admitted, with heartbreaking honesty, that he believed himself unworthy of love.
The way he looked at me as if I were the answer to a question he had carried for millions of years. The bond hadn’t made me care that he felt broken. It hadn’t made my chest ache when he doubted his own worth. It hadn’t made me want to kiss every scar, every fear, every shadow he tried so hard to hide.
That was me.
Oh.
I lowered my gaze, blinking rapidly.
Ella’s voice was gentle. “You love him, don’t you?”
The truth rose so swiftly, there was no point denying it. But panic rose just as fast. A breathless laugh escaped me, half incredulous, half horrified.
“Love?” I repeated, shaking my head. “I’ve known him for less than a week.”
The words sounded absurd even to my own ears. Less than a week. A handful of days. A few arguments. A rescue. Three devastating kisses. How could that possibly be enough to change the course of a life?
Nadine snorted softly.
“I had a similar objection,” she said. “It lasted approximately forty-eight hours.”
