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And stop.
She’s curled on the couch like she belongs there. My cloak is wrapped around her small frame, drowning her in black fabric that makes her look even more delicate than usual. Her face is turned into the cushions, one hand tucked beneath her cheek while the other clutches the cloak.
Asleep.
For a moment, I stand here staring. She looks peaceful in a way I haven’t seen in weeks, since everything changed between us.
Eagan rises from the chair by the window, and I don’t need to look at him to know he’s been waiting for this moment. “I have been trying to reach you for the last hour,” he sighs heavily.
My gaze remains on her. “What is she doing here?”
“You tell me,” he replies, and there’s amusement there now. “I told you she has been sleepwalking, and it seems her subconscious has finally found what it is searching for.”
“Her subconscious wants my couch?” I retort.
“It wants you! Don’t play dumb, Kylian. Not after earlier. You can no longer deny her. I am exhausted, hungry, and sick of playing babysitter every night.”
I stare at him, not used to him taking that tone with me. If he were anyone else, he’d be dead. My gaze shifts back to her, taking in the way her hair spills across the dark leather, the slight parting of her lips as she breathes, the vulnerable curve of her neck exposed above the cloak’s collar.
“She sleepwalked to my office? Why didn’t you lock her door like every other night?”
“I did. It appears she has no issues using her magic while unconscious when the bond is searching for its other half,” Eagan answers.
“She is asleep?”
“Yes,” Eagan confirms. “Deeply asleep, from what I can tell. First real rest she’s had in weeks.”
“That does not explain—”
“It explains everything.” Eagan moves to stand beside me. “The bond is searching for you. She can deny it all she wants while awake, but her unconscious mind knows who she wants.”
I let out a slow breath, forcing my expression into something neutral, even as everything inside me responds to her presence with disturbing intensity. “She does not want this.” The words come out rougher than intended. “She does not want me.”
Eagan’s response is immediate and unforgiving. “Her subconscious disagrees, and so do I. But you refuse to even speak with her.”
I glance at him sharply, but he meets my gaze without flinching, without the deference he usually shows. There’s pity in his expression, and I hate it more than his earlier criticism.
He shakes his head slightly, already stepping back.
“Eagan—” I start, though I’m not sure what I intend to say.
“I am going to bed,” he interrupts, turning toward the corridor. “And I am leaving her here, because I am not dragging her back to her room again. She has destroyed the damn door.”
“You cannot leave her—”
“I already am.” He pauses at the doorway, looking back with an expression that allows no argument. “She found her way here because this is where the bond wants her to be. Fighting that serves no one, least of all her.”
The door closes behind him.
I exhale slowly, dragging a hand down my face before crossing the room. She doesn’t stir or react to my presence at all, lost in whatever peace she’s found with the cloak I left draped on the couch.
Her fingers curl tightly into the fabric, knuckles white with the force of her grip, as if letting go is not something her body is willing to do.
“What am I supposed to do with you?” I mutter under my breath.
She stirs slightly hearing my voice, a small sound escaping her lips. It could be contentment, or it could be distress. The bond pulls tighter, urging me closer, and I take another step forward before I catch myself. Her eyes open. Wide. Unfocused. Wrong. They are an eerie white as if all the color has drained from them.
I go still, watching as she blinks slowly, her gaze moving around the room without truly seeing it. There’s something distant in her expression, something disconnected from consciousness that makes me understand what’s happening. I’ve seen this before in humans, this state between sleeping and waking where the body moves but the mind remains elsewhere.
