Page 55

He cracked one eye open. Ethan sat cross-legged on the bed, completely naked, his laptop balanced on his thighs, and his shadow marks vivid against his pale skin. His glasses were perched on the end of his nose, and he was frowning at the screen.

“Do I want to ask what you’re doing?”

“I’m assuming you just did. I’m documenting physiological changes.” Ethan didn’t look up. “The marks on my left wrist shifted 2.3 centimeters overnight. The pattern on my throat expanded slightly, approximately three millimeters. I need more data points to establish whether this represents ongoing adaptation or if the bond has reached equilibrium, but I have to start somewhere.”

Rook’s shadows stirred, still half-asleep but immediately drawn to Ethan. They curled around his ankles, his calves, and slid up his thighs, clearly keen on having unfettered access.

“Is this the same spreadsheet you made to see whether or not my shadows and I were trustworthy, or is this a new one based on our mate bond?”

“It’s a new one, obviously, because it’s a totally different dataset. You were already deemed trustworthy, or we wouldn’t be bonded.” Ethan adjusted his glasses. “Julian’s research focused on his bond with Cillian, but he didn’t collect baseline data during the first seventy-two hours. I’m correcting that oversight.”

He tilted his head in Rook’s direction. “I’ve titled it ‘Bond Physiology Observations.xlsx.’ Do you think I should include a tab for emotional resonance metrics, or would that be redundant given the subjective nature of the data?”

Rook propped himself up on one elbow, watching Ethan’s face. His mate had nearly been killed barely twelve hours earlier. Pope’s blade had come within inches of his throat. And yet, Ethan appeared happy enough.

I thought humans were supposed to be easily traumatized when close to death, especially someone with an anxiety disorder. But Ethan didn’t seem to feel that way. Rather than ask, because if Ethan wasn’t upset, Rook didn’t want to remind him he was supposed to be, he said instead, “I thought you’d be resting.”

“I rested for seven hours and forty-three minutes. That’s within my normal parameters for recovery.” Ethan typed another line. “I was going to get up, seeing as you appeared to be sleeping – or whatever it is you call your resting state - but your shadows wouldn’t let me leave the bed. This seemed like an efficient use of time in the meantime, and they did bring me the laptop when I asked.”

Rook glanced around the bed. Sure enough, his shadows had formed a perimeter around Ethan, winding through the sheets and pillows like they’d claimed the entire mattress as their territory.

“They’re just worried about you.”

“I think they’re being possessive, or they could be playing. It’s difficult to tell. But watch this.” Ethan reached for his shirt, draped over the chair beside the bed, and before his fingers even touched it, a shadow snatched it away, leaving Ethan’s hand closing on empty air.

“See what I mean?” Ethan looked at the shadow, now holding his shirt in a triumphant coil near the ceiling. “Give that back.”

The shadow wrapped the shirt tighter, clearly pleased with itself.

“I will need to get dressed at some point today.”

The shadow tucked the shirt behind Rook’s headboard.

Ethan turned to Rook. “It’s not just my shirt. Your shadows are holding my pants hostage, too, and I don’t want to know what they’ve done with my underwear.”

“Your underwear?” Rook bit back a chuckle. But as soon as Rook mentioned them, a shadow waved Ethan’s briefs from behind the curtains on the other side of the room. As Rook looked around, more shadows appeared - they’d stolen the jeans, briefs, his shirt, and a random sock, although that might have been from Rook’s drawer. They’d arranged themselves around the room like gleeful thieves, each clutching a prize.

That chuckle was getting harder to suppress. “I imagine they think if you can’t get dressed, then you can’t leave.”

“I’ll walk out there naked if I have to.” Ethan’s eyes were twinkling though. “Or I could simply ask Julian if he has something I can wear.”

A shadow immediately slithered toward the door, blocking it.

Ethan stared at the door, then at Rook. “Are you going to help, or are you going to keep looking at me like this is the most entertainment you’ve had all week?”

“It’s extremely entertaining.” Rook sat up fully, shaking out his hair, his shadows still maintaining their perimeter. “You’re naked, slightly exasperated, and arguing with sentient darkness about laundry. You’re also in my bed. This is the best morning I’ve had in forever.”

“I should’ve known they got their personality traits from you.” Ethan huffed out a sigh as he ran his fingers through his hair.

“They’re just playing with you.” Rook reached out, his fingers brushing the shadow mark on Ethan’s collarbone. “You’re here. You’re safe. You’re cataloging our bond in a spreadsheet before breakfast because that’s what you do. I love it.”

Ethan went very still. His fingers paused on the keyboard. “You… love it?”

“Yeah.” Rook’s thumb traced the edge of the mark. “You could’ve died yesterday. It’s going to take me a while before I forget how close Pope’s blade got to your throat. But you’re here, fully comfortable in my space, being yourself, and noting all the data points that help you feel safe. It’s perfect.”

Through the bond, Rook felt Ethan’s surprise, but he meant every word.

“I have to admit, this bonding business has surprised me. I’m sure it’s responsible for reducing my baseline anxiety by approximately seventy-three percent,” Ethan said quietly. “That’s an estimated figure. I’ll need more data to confirm the exact percentage, but the subjective experience is…significant.” He met Rook’s eyes. “Despite everything that’s happened since we met, I’ve never felt this safe, not with anyone else.”