I must make some sound—a shift of movement, a change in breathing—because Azhrael's attention swings toward me immediately. Those luminous eyes lock onto mine, and the beast pulls away from Malrec in a smooth motion that says everything about his priorities.
Malrec's head turns. His gaze finds me, and for one unguarded moment I see something flash across his face. Something that looks like longing mixed with frustration mixed with confusion that mirrors everything churning in my own chest.
Then it's gone. His expression smooths into careful neutrality, that same controlled mask he's been wearing for days.
But I saw it. That crack in his composure. That moment where whatever he's feeling broke through before he could contain it.
My body responds before my mind can catch up. Heat floods through me, settling low in my stomach and making my breathcatch. I want to cross the space between us. Want to touch him the way I touched him in the dreams, with familiarity and certainty and none of this terrible distance that feels wrong.
Instead, I stay frozen at the enclosure entrance, watching Azhrael approach me with that deliberate attention he always shows. The beast reaches me and lowers his head, and I raise my hand automatically to rest against his jaw.
"I didn't mean to interrupt," I manage, my voice steadier than I feel. Which isn't saying much, considering my heart is beating hard enough that I'm sure both of them can hear it.
"You didn't." Malrec doesn't move from his position. Doesn't step toward the barrier to leave. Just watches as I stroke Azhrael's scaled hide, my touch gentle and practiced. "He's been calmer since you've had access."
It's not quite an admission. Not quite praise. But it's closer to approval than anything he's said to me before, and I feel my shoulders relax slightly in response.
"He just needed company," I say quietly. "Consistency. Someone who doesn't only approach him when there's work to be done."
Azhrael presses closer, that massive form radiating heat I can feel even through my work garments. I lean into it without thinking, seeking the comfort his presence provides. The stability of something that feels right even when everything else feels increasingly unstable.
I expect Malrec to leave. To use this as an exit, disappearing before the tension between us can build into something neither of us knows how to handle.
Instead, he stays. Watching me with that unreadable expression that makes my skin feel too tight.
"I have to go to an auction," he says abruptly.
I glance at him, confused by the non sequitur. "Alright."
"It's not far." His jaw tightens, and I watch the muscle there flex before relaxing. "I'm bringing Khorvas for sale and evaluating potential acquisitions. It requires extended absence from the stables."
I nod, still not understanding where this is going. "I can manage things here while you're gone. Nimae and I will maintain the feeding schedules and?—"
"I want you to come with me."
The words hit me like physical impact. I stop petting Azhrael, my hand going still against his hide as I stare at Malrec.
He hasn't moved, but there's something different in his posture now. Something almost uncertain beneath his typical authority. Like he's not entirely sure why he made this offer but isn't taking it back either.
"To the auction?" My voice sounds distant, disconnected from the sudden rush of feeling flooding through my system. "As what? I don't have training in beast sales, I don't know the evaluation protocols?—"
"As assistance." He cuts across my confusion with clipped efficiency. "Khorvas knows you. Having a familiar presence during transport and display will keep him calmer. And if I acquire new beasts, your handling skills would be useful during the initial assessment."
It's logical. Practical. A reasonable justification for bringing laborer staff to an auction event.
But the way he's looking at me doesn't feel practical. It feels like something else entirely. Something that makes the air between us feel charged and heavy and impossible to navigate.
My body responds with immediate, visceral want. Want to say yes. Want to be near him for three days away from the stables and the watchful presence of other staff. Want to see what happens when the careful distance we maintain here doesn't have the same structural support.
That longing has been building for days. Since the binding ritual. Since the dreams became too frequent to dismiss. Since I started noticing the way he moves through the space—controlled and precise and devastatingly attractive in ways I can't afford to acknowledge.
"I've never been to an auction," I say carefully. Though, for some reason, it doesn't feel quite right.
"I'm aware."
"I don't know the protocols. The expectations for behavior or?—"
"You'll follow my lead." He shifts his weight, and I track the movement without meaning to. Watch the way his shoulders adjust, the way his hands remain carefully at his sides like he's restraining something. "The event takes place at a neutral territory estate. Accommodations will be provided. You'll attend as part of my staff."
