Page 71 of Enslak

Enslak was quiet for a moment. "I know about mate bonds." He said it carefully. "I remember enough. They're permanent, in the stories my father told."

"Yeah." I watched my finger trace a path across his sternum. "That's a big word."

"It is," he agreed. He wasn't pushing, just holding the thought with me.

"I don't know what it means for us yet," I said honestly. "I know what I feel right now, and I know that what happened tonight was something I chose and something I want to keep choosing. But I can't tell you it means everything is decided."

"I know," he said. "I don't need everything decided." His arm tightened slightly, not possessive but warm. "I have a habit of only being able to hold onto what's right in front of me. What's right in front of me is enough."

Something in my chest went quiet and full at the same time.

"I'm not going anywhere," I said, and I meant it as the specific, honest thing it was. Not a forever. A now. A choice I was making clearly, with both eyes open.

He pressed his lips to the top of my head. "I know."

Outside, Avalon was settling into evening, the insect chorus starting up in the trees, the temperature dropping by degrees that would have us pulling the blankets up within the hour. The light at the cave entrance had gone from gold to deep blue.

He reached for the thermal blanket and pulled it over us with one hand, tucking it carefully around my shoulders. That same attentiveness. That same awareness of my comfort that had been consistent from the very beginning, when he barely had the language to express it. I burrowed into the warmth of him and let myself have this moment without trying to classify it or contain it or resolve it into something neat.

Whatever this was, it was real, and it was ours, and we'd built it out of something honest. That was more than enough to be going on with.

I closed my eyes and listened to his heartbeat, and eventually I slept.

Chapter 16

Enslak

My mind was clearing.

Not like flipping a switch. More like fog lifting off the river at dawn. Slow. Uneven. Some mornings I'd wake up and the memories would be right there, lined up and ready. Other times they'd scatter like startled birds the second I reached for them.

But it was getting better. Every day, a little better.

I could think something—I need to check the traps—and actually say it out loud without my tongue tripping over itself. Without the words dissolving between my brain and my mouth like they'd been doing for... God, how long? A century? Longer?

It felt like being born. Like waking up from a nightmare I couldn't quite remember but could still feel pressing against the edges of my consciousness.

And Niki.

Gods, Niki.

I craved her with an intensity that would've embarrassed me before—before the torture, before they broke me down and rebuilt me into something monstrous. Now? No shame. Just need. Just this overwhelming hunger that built in my chest every time I looked at her.

We had sex at least once a day. Sometimes more. Mornings, when we woke up tangled together and I could feel her warmth against me. Afternoons by the river when the light caught her hair just right. Nights under the stars when the air cooled and she'd press closer for warmth.

Sometimes slow. Sometimes desperate. Sometimes I'd be so careful with her I'd shake from the effort of holding back. Other times she'd demand more—harder, faster, don't you dare stop—and I'd give her everything.

Every single time felt like a revelation.

When I was inside her, something clicked. Like puzzle pieces finally finding their proper places. The fog in my head would clear completely. That constant low-level anxiety—the humming tension that never quite left my body—would go quiet.

I felt whole.

Not just the physical pleasure, though that was... intense. Overwhelming. The heat of her body. The sounds she made. The way her fingers dug into my shoulders when she came. The way she'd look at me after, eyes soft and satisfied, like I'd given her something precious.

But it was more than that.

When I was buried inside her, our hearts beating in that strange, synchronized rhythm, our breaths mingling, I felt like me. The person I used to be. Strong. Capable. Not the broken thing they'd made me. Not the damaged warrior who couldn't string two words together.