I don’t finish the sentence because now it’s not just overwhelming. It’s right.
Not normal. Not familiar.
But right.
The bond thrums, steady and bright, feeding into the heat instead of fighting it. Every nerve in my body feels tuned to him, to the space between us, to the tension that’s no longer being held back.
I look at him.Reallylook this time. And whatever hesitation I had left burns away.
“Yeah,” I say again, softer now but certain. “We’re doing this.”
That’s all it takes.
The restraint snaps.
Varek moves.
Fast.
His hands are on me, careful but unrelenting, pulling me closer as the heat surges again, stronger now that it’s no longer contained. My shirt is gone before I fully register the movement, the air hitting my skin cool and biting in contrast to the warmth pouring through me.
I return the favour, hands working over him without hesitation, dragging fabric out of the way, needing—needing—to feel more.
There’s no time for overthinking.
No space for doubt.
Just instinct.
Just heat.
Just him.
And then?—
I see him.
Fully.
Properly.
And for a second, everything else fades.
Because Varek?—
Christ.
He’s not human. I’ve always known that. Always seen it in pieces—in glimpses, in flashes, in the way he moves, the way he looks at the world. Hell, his iridescent purple skin is a physical reminder.
But this? This is something else entirely.
He’s built like a weapon. Like something designed with purpose, strength layered over strength, muscle defined in a way that’s almost unfair. His skin catches the low light, those faint luminous markings more visible now, tracing along his body like something alive.
And lower?—
I suck in a breath. “Right,” I mutter, a little breathless. “That’s… not what I was expecting.”
Varek stills for half a second, his gaze snapping to mine. “Is it—” he starts, something dangerously close to uncertainty threading through his voice. “—unacceptable?”
