“You’re hiding,” I press, because I’m feeling like a snipey fucker and want to be an arsehole.
“Observing.”
“Bloody semantics.”
“Important ones.”
I scrub a hand down my face, feeling the rough scrape of stubble and the pull of old lines that never quite faded. “Fine. Patrols. I get it.”
The silence that follows stretches just a fraction too long.
I glance up. “But that’s not the real reason.”
Varek doesn’t answer. He doesn’t have to.
I sigh. “Right. The bond.”
His jaw constricts. Barely. But I see it.
The bonds between us stir faintly in my chest, like they know we’re talking about them.
Two bonds now.
Two.
Apparently fate looked at our already complicated situation and decided what we really needed was a sequel.
“You could still go,” I say.
His gaze narrows slightly. “You believe that?”
“Yeah.” The lie tastes bitter. I look away first. “It’ll be uncomfortable,” I admit. “But doable.”
Varek moves a single step closer. Close enough that the air shifts, the bond pulling a little firmer between us like an invisible thread.
“Incorrect.”
My breath catches before I can stop it.
“The bond is incomplete,” he says quietly.
“Yeah,” I mutter. “I gathered.”
“Distance would worsen the strain.”
“You’re saying you’d miss me,” I deadpan, hoping he can’t hear the uptick of my pulse.
His expression doesn’t change. “I am saying the bond would cause pain.”
I snort. “Romantic.”
“It is not intended to be.”
Fair enough. I shove another jar harder than necessary onto the shelf. “So you’re stuck here because our stupid cosmic marriage paperwork hasn’t been finalised yet.”
“That is one factor.”
“Fantastic.”
