His mouth twitches. "Unsettling is my specialty."
I pull the shirt closer around me. The mark at my throat pulses, and I can feel him through the bond, patient and waiting, his own heart rate steady where mine is doing jumping jacks. "What if I don't want you to know my heart rate? What if I want to be stressed about a deadline without my alien husband sending a rescue team?"
"Then I would learn to wait for you to ask."
"But the ring would still tell you."
"Yes."
"Even if I turned off notifications?"
His expression flickers. "Your ring does not turn off."
"Because?"
"Because it is a bond-ring." He says this like it explains everything. Like I am asking why water is wet. "It is not a family device. It is a connection. Living. Permanent. As much a part of the mating as the mark on your throat."
I touch the mark. It warms under my fingers, answering his pulse, his proximity, his attention. "But you turned your brothers’ off."
His jaw tightens. "I’m not mated to my brothers." He sits up, the sheets falling to his waist, and the sight of him—violet skin marked by my nails, gold eyes burning, ears held with deliberate stillness—stops my breath for one unfair second. "We’re mates. On Layn, this means if I could weave myself into your skin to guard you, I would."
"That's..." I swallow. "That's a lot. Earth alpha-omega relationships are intense, but this is a bit overwhelming. I might need to think about this…”
"Think all you want. If you need time to adjust, we’ll slow down.” He tips my chin up in that way that slays me. “Slow down does not equal turn around.”
I gulp.Literally gulp. "So, I can’t take it off?" I ask.
"Cannot. The bond ring integrates with mating biology. It responds to your chemistry. To mine. Removing it would require..." He stops.
"Would require what?"
"Medical intervention. On Layn. With family consent."
I stare at him. "So once it's on, it's on."
"Yes."
"And you didn't think to mention this before you put a mark on my neck?"
He flinches. Takes a deep breath and sighs it out. "I will learn to give you room," he says. "I will learn to wait for you to ask. I will accept that knowing your heart rate does not grant me the right to act on it." His hand lifts, rests on my cheek, and waits. "But I can’t pretend that I do not want to know, or that I won't hunger for connection."
I press my face into his palm because his warmth is already addictive. I’m still shocked, but I’m choosing him anyway. "This is going to be a problem," I murmur against his skin.
"Probably," he agrees. "But I enjoy solving problems."
I pull back enough to study him. The prince. The alpha. "I’ll need boundaries," I say. "Not because I don't want you. Because I do, and that scares me more than anything."
His thumb strokes my cheekbone. "Name them."
"When the ring comes, I’ll wear it.” His eyes flare. “But you don't get to treat every data point like permission. If my heart rate spikes because I'm arguing with an employee, you don't storm in. If I'm across the city, you don't send security. If I'm..." I hesitate, heat rising to my face. "If I'm aroused, you don't assume that's an invitation."
His pupils dilate, gold bleeding into black. "Agree. Agree. Impossible."
"Difficult is not impossible."
The words settle between us, fragile and new. He’s not backing down. I exhale. There are worse things in life than having a man determined to pleasure you when you’re feeling heated.
My vibrator is going to get so lonely.
