The bond hums softly, almost smug.
Well. That’s unsettling.
We round the final bend at a pace that probably qualifies as embarrassingly slow, and there he is.
Varek steps out of his quarters as if the stone itself has delivered him, broad shoulders nearly filling the corridor, silver eyes finding me immediately.
He’s already here.
Which means either Sonny runs faster than I realised or Jack and I have been walking with all the speed of an elderly couple on a scenic outing.
Honestly, both are possible.
Varek’s gaze moves over me in one swift, thorough pass, noting the pallor, the stiffness, the fact I’m upright mostly because stubbornness is doing the heavy lifting. His expression doesn’t shift much, but the bond does. Relief first. Then a low, steady current of possessive concern that envelops me like heat.
Jack eases his hand away from my arm, though not before making sure I’m balanced.
“Thank you,” Varek says to him.
The words are simple, but there’s real weight to them.
Jack just nods once. “He pushed too hard.”
“Obviously,” I mutter.
Neither of them dignifies that with a response.
“I have him from here,” Varek says.
Jack’s mouth twitches faintly, like he recognises a dismissal when he hears one but is willing to indulge it.
“Right,” he says. Then, to me he says, “Try not to fall over before you reach the bed.”
“No promises.”
He snorts softly and leaves us there.
And just like that, Varek steps in.
The moment he’s close enough to touch, everything in me seems to loosen in ways I don’t entirely want to analyse. I lean into him before I can stop myself, forehead brushing briefly against the solid line of his chest as I inhale.
Smoke.
Metal.
That cutting, clean edge that is just him.
Underneath all of it, something in my body settles.
I feel…. Stronger isn’t the right word. Less likely to shatter, maybe. More anchored. More here.
Varek doesn’t say anything about the way I’m using him like a support beam. He doesn’t tease. He doesn’t even pause.
One large hand comes to the small of my back, warm and steady, guiding me towards the doorway.
Inside, his quarters are dim and cool and unmistakably his. The low light from the bioluminescent veins paints shifting colour over the walls and bedding. The furs on the bed look maddeningly inviting.
The moment the door closes behind us, the outside world seems to peel away.
