Her heartbeat slows slightly within the house, though tension remains threaded through it. Each change in her rhythm reflects through me, adjusting the way my form holds together. The awareness is constant now, no longer something I activate deliberately. It simply exists.
She turns toward me with a cup in her hand. “What?”
I consider several responses and discard them.
“I am adapting,” I say.
Her grip tightens. “Then do it faster.”
Corin laughs quietly, the sound carrying a vitality that did not exist the day before.
I remain where I am, in the doorway, within range, watching her move through the space as though the distance between us has already been reduced to something measurable and necessary.
It is no longer a question of whether the bond affects me. It is a question of how far that effect will go.
5
SABLE
Iam not letting him haunt my house like a decorative nightmare.
That decision settles into me somewhere between Corin’s third sarcastic comment and the fourth time I catch the demon repositioning himself in a doorway like he’s measuring my breathing patterns for sport. The kitchen still smells like damp ash and spilled water, and the floorboards near the lower room bear the ugly splintered scar from where he hit them. Every time I look at it, something tightens behind my ribs.
No.
Absolutely not.
“You’re not standing there all night,” I say, turning on him with my arms crossed.
Rhazek doesn’t move. “I am maintaining proximity.”
“You are lurking.”
“I am not lurking.”
“You’re in my doorway without blinking. That’s lurking.”
Corin snorts into his cup. “It’s premium lurking too. Very committed.”
Rhazek’s gaze flicks toward him briefly. “Your continued observations are unnecessary.”
“They’re also accurate,” Corin says, completely unbothered.
I point toward the stairs. “You’re taking the spare room.”
Rhazek looks at the staircase as if I’ve suggested he crawl into a trap lined with blades. “That location introduces additional distance variables.”
“It introduces walls,” I shoot back. “Which humans use. Regularly.”
“I am not human.”
“I noticed. Congratulations. You still get a room.”
Corin leans back in his chair, folding his arms behind his head. “Honestly, I’m with her on this one. You standing there like a brooding coat rack is unsettling.”
“I am not brooding.”
“That’s worse,” Corin says. “You don’t even realize you’re doing it.”
