I lean forward and press my forehead to his shoulder, breathing him in. The bond quiets, satisfied by proximity, by touch, by the simple fact that we are still here, still negotiating, still choosing.
"Also," I mumble against his skin, "the nest is ridiculous."
"It is Layn tradition."
"It looks like a laundry basket exploded."
His chest rumbles with humor. "You slept in it for most of the weekend."
"I was compromised by orgasms and lack of sleep."
He lifts my chin with one finger, forcing my eyes to his. "Tonight," he says, "I will build a better nest. With your input."
"That sounded almost like asking."
"I am practicing."
"Keep practicing."
His mouth curves, small and dangerous. "I intend to."
***
By the time I enter Athena, the morning has become afternoon, and my thighs have stopped protesting enough to allow normal walking. Loora reaches my desk with the slap of platform sandals and the rustle of a snack bag.
"Where have you been, or do I even need to ask?" she asks, dropping into a chair.
"You can ask about a lot of things. Budget projections. The Brazil investigation. Whether my new ring will notify Skylor every time I eat something he considers nutritionally inadequate."
She sits ramrod straight, her eyes snapping to my hand. "Ring?"
I hold it up. Her eyes bulge, and her mouth does an impression of a fish mouthing, “Ooooh.” The polished obsidian is shot through with veins of royal blue and gold that move slowly, like living things. It's beautiful. Jaw-dropping. Far more ornate than his, with tiny glittering diamonds like a night sky trapped under glass. His ring, which had been the same deep obsidian color, is now also infused with royal blue and gold lace filigree.
“The band was delivered a couple of hours ago. A silent Layn courier brought it to Skylor’s place. Skylor sealed it around my finger with a biometric process I don’t understand and probably shouldn’t investigate too closely.”
Loora leans in, ravenous curiosity replacing snack interest as she watches the pulsing colors. "What does it do?"
"A better question is what doesn’t it do? It’s probably fixing my credit score as we speak."
"That's..." She pauses. "...hot. Right?"
"It's invasive."
"It's devotion. Same thing, different font."
"I told him it's overwhelming."
"And?"
"He said he'll try to restrain himself, but he's not promising anything.”
She grins. "That's actually kind of perfect. He can't stop being an alpha. But he's willing to compromise."
The insight lands with uncomfortable accuracy. I stare at the ring, at the gold veins pulsing in steady rhythm with my heartbeat. "I don't want to disappear inside what he wants," I say quietly.
"Then don't." Loora's voice softens, and her smile drops. "You only disappear when you stop naming what you need. And the naming,” she adds. “That’s on you."
I look at my friend—tall, stunning, unapologetic—and feel a rush of gratitude so fierce it almost hurts. "Thank you," I say.
