I bare my teeth. “There it is.”
He steps closer again. One step. The air changes.
Not warmer. He’s not warm. He’s cool stone, mineral shadow, and controlled strength. But everything in me recognizes the shift like a storm under glass.
“You are afraid of me,” he says.
I almost laugh, but it comes out thin.
“No.”
His eyes hold mine.
“You should be,” he says, voice low.
There’s the predator. There’s the red edge I saw when blood ran down my arm. There’s the male who could break stone with one hand and still set a water skin between us like neutral ground.
I should be afraid. I am. Not of him hurting me. That would be simple. I am afraid he will not. I am afraid he will keep stopping. Keep listening. Keep learning the exact shape of mynountil theyesinside me has nowhere left to hide.
I am afraid he will become safe. I am afraid I will want more.
The thought is so sharp I forget to breathe and Kavor sees. His face changes.
“Sera.”
“No.”
His entire body stills. Good. No. Not good. Because thisnois not for him. It’s for me.
I step back. One step. The wall catches my shoulder. Pain flashes down my wounded arm, and Kavor moves before he can stop himself. I lift my good hand and he stops. The obedience hurts.
“I’m not yours,” I say.
His eyes go dark.
“I know.”
The answer is immediate. Too immediate. It should make this easier. It doesn’t.
“I’m not your responsibility.”
His jaw flexes. “You are injured because you protected the sample.”
“I’m injured because I chose to move.”
“You moved for me,” he says.
“I moved for the sample.”
His gaze drops to the pouch then back.
“For the City,” I say.
“Yes.”
“For everyone waiting above us who doesn’t know the ground under them may be waking up hungry.”
“Yes.”
