“I try,” he says dryly. Then, softer, he adds, “Look, different species, different bonds…. It probably feels different for everyone.”
That makes sense.
“Humans don’t have this,” he adds, gesturing vaguely between us. “No bond. No instinct screaming at us. So for us, love’s just… feeling. Choice. Connection.”
“And now you’ve got both,” I say.
“Yeah,” he replies. “And honestly? It’s a bit of a mindfuck.”
I laugh at that. “Good to know I’m not alone.”
“Definitely not.” He studies me for a second, then his tone shifts just slightly. “You happy?” he asks.
I don’t hesitate. “Yeah,” I say.
And I mean it. Properly. It’s not just something I’m saying to fill space or make it easier on someone else. It feels solid in my chest, undeniable.
It’s also the first time I’ve admitted it to myself, let alone anyone else.
Something I should probably tell Varek.
The thought is… a bit mad, honestly. We’re in the middle of a full-blown rebellion, death lurking around every corner, and here I am—what? Soft? Content?
But maybe that’s the point.
If you can’t hold on to the good when everything else is trying to kill you, then when the hell can you?
He nods once. “Then who gives a shit what you call it?”
“True that.” I bob my head.
“If it feels right,” he adds, shrugging, “if it’s good, if it’s not hurting you… then maybe don’t overthink it to death.”
I exhale slowly, some of that tightness in my chest easing. “Yeah,” I say quietly. “Yeah, all right.”
Sonny grins. “Look at that. Personal growth.”
“Don’t start.”
“Too late.”
I shake my head, but there’s a small smile there now, easier than before.
A flicker at the edge of awareness draws my attention. Movement where there shouldn’t be.
I frown, turning my head slightly. “Do you—” I start.
A figure breaks into view at the far edge of the path.
Running.
Fast.
Not training.
Not casual.
Urgent.
