“It is accurate.”
I huff a quiet laugh. “Mate, I’m lying here half broken. I’m not exactly intimidating.”
“That is not the danger,” he says, lowering his voice slightly.
I hold his gaze. “Then what is?”
There’s a pause. A real one this time, during which I can see him deciding whether to say it or not.
Then he does. “It makes restraint difficult.”
The words settle between us, heavy and unguarded. I feel the shift within myself immediately, a flutter low in my gut, a lick of heat that has nothing to do with injury or recovery.
“Right,” I say quietly, some of the teasing disappearing, but not enough to make me change my mind about my super important “research” into this whole lie thing. Sure, I know he can sense lies or whatever, but I didn’t realise he couldn’t actually lie to me.
Colour me intrigued.
I glance again at his horns, curiosity sparking. “If I touch these,” I say, lifting my hand slowly so he can see exactly what I’m doing, “what does it feel like?”
His breath catches, subtle but unmistakable. “They are sensitive,” he says.
I hesitate for only a second before letting my fingers brush lightly against the base of one horn.
The reaction is immediate.
His body tenses, his breath falters, and the bond between us surges with a sudden, searing heat that runs straight through me. It’s not painful. It’s not even overwhelming. It’s simply… intense.
I still my hand, not pulling away, just taking in the reaction. “That answers that,” I murmur, my cock doing a valiant job of punching through the fabric keeping it contained.
“Pax,” he says, and this time there is a clear warning in his voice.
I look back at him, my blinks a bullshit attempt at innocence. “Yes?”
“You are not unaware of what you are doing.”
I consider that for a moment, then let a small smile pull at my mouth. “Maybe I’m figuring it out,” I say, easing into this new flirtation I haven’t allowed myself in years—long before I ended up in Terrafeara, in fact.
Andthatis the truth.
Because this version of me—the one who teases, who pushes, who asks questions like this without immediately shutting it all down—is not the man I used to be.
That man stayed quiet. Careful. Hidden.
This one doesn’t.
I let my hand drop, but I don’t move away. “You said you can scent it,” I continue, my voice quieter now. “My arousal.”
“Yes.”
“And are you aroused?”
He stills again. The silence stretches just long enough to make the answer matter.
“Yes.”
I let out a slow breath, something settling into place inside me. “Well,” I say, meeting his gaze, “that’s… convenient.”
The words hang there, balanced between humour and awareness. For once, I don’t shut it down. I let it sit. Let it exist. And that, more than anything else, feels new.
