Her breathing evens instantly.
Her eyes flutter closed for a fraction of a second before she catches herself.
“This is insane,” she murmurs.
“Yes.”
“But it’s real?”
“God, yes.”
The wind lifts again around us, carrying smoke from somewhere distant and salt from the sea.
For the first time since the confrontation in the study, neither of us pulls away first.
And the alignment – quiet, controlled, undeniable – settles into place between us.
THIRTY-SIX
KAI
I don’t meanto watch them.
That’s what I tell myself.
The terrace doors are open, and the sound of low voices carries easily through the kitchen, so it isn’t technically spying. It isn’t deliberate. It’s just proximity. Just coincidence.
But I don’t move away.
I lean against the counter with a beer I’m not drinking and stare out through the glass as Sol stands too close to her, his hand brushing the side of her neck in a way that looks almost careful.
Almost gentle.
It shouldn’t bother me.
The bond is his. He bit her. He triggered whatever this is. The biological pull makes sense.
But the look on her face doesn’t.
It isn’t fear. It isn’t anger.
It’s choice.
That’s what makes my jaw tighten.
Because when she looks at me, it’s fire and friction and sparks. It’s challenge. It’s heat that feels reckless and alive. But when she looks at him like that, it’s something quieter. Deeper.
Intentional.
I swallow a mouthful of beer that tastes flat.
Koa shifts beside me, silent as always, and I don’t need to look at him to know he’s noticed it too. The way her shoulders drop when Sol steps closer. The way her breathing evens like her body’s found an answer it was searching for.
“That’s not fair,” I mutter.
Koa doesn’t ask what I mean.
“It isn’t,” he agrees quietly.