7. Chapter 7 #2
The table fell into a heavy, awkward silence.
Ludiin forced himself to eat the rest of his food, each bite like cardboard, before excusing himself.
As he made his way up to his room, relief washed over him — relief that he wouldn’t have to face Roc.
But beneath it, something raw pulsed in his chest.
He felt seen. Understood. By Tarymn.
His pulse thundered in his ears as he stumbled into his room. He dropped onto the bed and lay flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling as an unbidden smile tugged at his lips.
“It feels… nice to be seen,” Ludiin whispered to the empty room.
***
After that, running into Tarymn around the house wasn’t as nerve-wracking as it was.
The tension between them hadn’t completely vanished, but it had settled into something quieter, something Ludiin could handle as long as Tarymn kept his distance.
But lately, Tarymn seemed to be near a lot.
Checking on him in the den. It was awkward and strange, and Ludiin didn’t know what to say half the time
“Everything going well today?” Tarymn asked, his eyes scanning the space with casual interest. Ludiin nodded quickly, watching him with his lungs pulled tight like he’d forgotten how to breathe.
“You should decorate,” Tarymn said, strolling over to one of the workbenches and leaning against it like he had no plans of leaving anytime soon. “Make the space your own.”
“I will,” Ludiin said, spinning around to take in the room, it was easier than meeting Tarymn’s eyes. “I want a nice couch…right there.” He pointed to a blank stretch of wall that practically begged to be turned into a cozy nook.
“Done.”
Ludiin blinked and twisted around to face him. “What?”
Tarymn’s eyes glinted faintly, a half-smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Go on,” he said.
“I…” Ludiin’s words faltered.
“Pitra told me you still haven’t given him the list of things you need. He sent me up here to come and get it.” Tarymn leaned back slightly, arms folding over his chest in an easy, almost careless gesture. “He’d be disappointed if I went back empty-handed.”
“I was…”
“Never going to give it to him.”
Ludiin’s eyes widened. “How did you…”
“It’s been two weeks,” Tarymn said smoothly. “Whatever hang-ups you’re nursing, let them go. Make your requests while I’m still in a generous mood.”
Ludiin’s lips twitched, a spark of defiance breaking through his hesitation.
“Okay… but you’re going to regret that. Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he said as he dug in one of the boxes and pulled out his e-reader.
He tapped it awake and started adding to a list. A very long one.
Half the items were things he didn’t really need, just things he wanted, and thought would be fun to have.
He muttered them aloud as he typed, his voice drifting around the room. Realizing what he was doing, Ludiin stilled and glanced toward Tarymn.
But the alpha didn’t seem to mind. He just stood there, arms folded across his chest, eyes following his movements. He was paying attention. Really watching him. No shock, or judgement in his eyes.
Warmth unfurled in Ludiin's chest, startling in its intensity.
“You don’t have to stay,” he said. “I can just give the list to Pitra when I’m finished.”
“I’m taking a break from work,” Tarymn replied, lifting his chin as if to say get on with it .
So Ludiin did.
Thirty minutes later, the list was nearly complete, and Tarymn was still there—now sitting on a sealed box, back against the wall, arms resting on his knees, head tilted back.
His eyes were closed, and he looked… peaceful.
Like he hadn’t sat still in weeks and was finally allowing himself to breathe.
Ludiin watched him in silence, his gaze tracing the faint furrow between his brows Whatever thoughts weighed on him, they looked heavy, pressing down on his shoulders.
“Is your work stressful?” Ludiin asked softly, the words slipping out before he could stop them. He slapped a hand over his mouth as Tarymn cracked one eye open and looked at him.
“I mean… you look tired,” Ludiin added quickly.
Tarymn didn’t answer right away. He just stared at him, as if weighing his question. “It depends on what’s happening at the time,” he said eventually, his tone unreadable.
Ludiin frowned, curiosity pulling at him, but he pressed his lips together, unwilling to bother him further.
Tarymn stood and walked toward him with slow, measured steps. The air shifted, becoming thicker, charged. Time itself seemed to stall, stretching the moment out until Ludiin became achingly aware of every heartbeat, every inch of space between them.
He told himself to move, to take a step back, but his body refused to listen. He was rooted in place, breath caught, heart thudding hard against his ribs.
“Don’t frown. You’ll get wrinkles,” Tarymn murmured, brushing his fingers gently over Ludiin’s brow.
Heat rippled down from the light touch, cascading across his cheeks, trickling over his neck, pooling like fire behind his ears. His earlobes tingled.
Earlobes? He didn’t even know that was possible.
“Ask your question,” Tarymn said, finally letting his hand fall away. Ludiin inhaled sharply, grateful to breathe again.
“I don’t have a question,” Ludiin mumbled, flustered.
“You do,” Tarymn countered.
“No, I don’t.”
The alpha didn’t move, just kept watching him.
“Fine,” Ludiin huffed, grabbing one of the boxes and lugging it over to the workbench like it owed him answers. “What do you do?”
“I work for the Alpha King.”
Ludiin paused, eyes snapping to Tarymn. “You work for him?” he asked, stunned. “You’ve met the Alpha King?”
“I said I work for him. Of course I’ve met him,” Tarymn replied, taking another step closer. “That’s a stupid question, Ludiin. I thought you were a genius.”
“You gave me a stupid answer first,” Ludiin shot back. “I asked what you do. Not who you work for.”
At that, Tarymn stilled. Whatever humor was in his face vanished, and something unreadable flashed in his eyes.
Oh shit, Ludiin thought, panic curling in his stomach. He scrambled to take back what he’d just said.
Then Tarymn burst out laughing. A rich, unguarded sound that bounced off the walls, warm and contagious. He wiped at his eyes, still chuckling. “Okay, you got me,” he said between breaths. “That’s how we usually answer that question, isn’t it?”
“I guess,” Ludiin murmured.
“Well, that’s how I answer when I can’t really say what I do.”
Ludiin tilted his head, curiosity blooming. “Are you a secret agent or something?”
“No,” Tarymn replied with a grin. “I’m in security.”
Ludiin’s brows furrowed again, then remembered what happened. He rubbed his fingers over his brows, putting some space between him and Tarymn. “You’re his bodyguard?”
Tarymn laughed again. “No. I don’t guard the Alpha King. I’m in security intelligence.”
Ludiin’s eyes widened. “Is that why you look tired? Are we in danger or something?”
“No,” Tarymn said, jamming his hands into his pockets. “That’s exactly why I hate talking about my job. Everyone thinks it means something bad is happening. This time, it’s just… something the Alpha King asked me to figure out. And I haven’t cracked it yet.”
“Oh.” Ludiin’s voice softened. “I’m sorry for asking. You didn’t have to tell me.”
“I know,” Tarymn said simply, then turned toward the stairs. “I’ll leave you to get back to your work.”
“Okay,” Ludiin said, watching him leave.
Then, impulsively said, “wait. About that thing you’re stuck on.
I don’t know if this helps, but… when one of my machines doesn’t work, I take it apart.
I lay out every piece and study them one by one.
Sometimes it’s easier to find the flaw in the parts than in the whole. ”
Tarymn paused, a flicker of a smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
As his footsteps faded down the stairs, Ludiin stood there, heart hammering in his chest like he’d just jogged up the stairs. He slumped against the workbench and let out a long breath, burying his face in his arms.
“Ugh, that was too much,” he mumbled into the table.