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“Yes.”

“Before the barn.”

“Yes.”

“Before Vegas, if you knew enough then to think I might be affected.”

Max swallowed. “Yes.”

“And if we find out something else later that scares the shit out of you, you tell me anyway.”

“I will.”

I studied his face. “I’m going to hold you to that.” Because that was the difference. I didn’t need Max to never be afraid again, and I didn’t need a promise that he’d never make another mistake. I needed to know the next time fear told him he could protect me by taking a choice away, he’d remember how close that had come to breaking something between us.

Ignatius could have shown me a thousand years of council records, and Doryu could have produced enough evidence to fill the arena, but none of it mattered quite as much as knowing myself.

Max hadn’t made me want him.

If his lifebound nature was capable of taking away my choices, it had spent months doing a remarkably poor job.

A laugh threatened, and Max frowned. “What?”

“I was just thinking you’re spectacularly bad at supernatural compulsion.”

Doryu lost the battle with his coffee completely.

Max stared at me before muttering, “Câlisse.”

“There he is.”

Ignatius looked between us. “Would you like us to leave our own house?”

“No. You can suffer.”

Doryu wiped his mouth. “I like him.”

“You liked him before.”

“I like him more now.”

Max muttered something else in French that I suspected was deeply disrespectful toward everyone present, but when he looked back at me, the humor faded beneath something far more vulnerable.

“You asked for time.”

“I did.”

“You can still have it.”

I knew that, and that was the whole point. I wasn’t trapped by Max, his dragon, an ancient mate bond, or some supernatural biological imperative. If I wanted to walk out of this house and tell him I couldn’t do this, he would let me go even if it broke him.

Instead, I leaned closer.

“I chose you before I knew everything.”

His breathing changed.

“Now I know.”