Chapter 9 #2
I shift, just enough to feel the solid line of him more clearly against me. “This,” I say.
There’s a pause. Then, quieter, more controlled, he answers, “Yes.”
“Why?” I ask.
His gaze holds mine. “Because you asked me to.”
Right. I did.
Years ago…. Hell, a month ago. So much anger and hurt drove me to every decision.
That and a different kind of fear that I lived daily in my marriage.
In truth, I hadn’t allowed myself to think about what our bond would actually mean long term.
My focus was always about needing distance, needing control over something when everything else had been taken from me.
And he listened, which I learned long ago he always would.
I scrub a hand over my face, exhaling slowly. “I feel like I should say thank you… for doing as I’ve asked. For listening.” And I mean it. Boundaries are so fucking important. Consent even more so.
Varek goes very still. Not frozen. Not uncertain. Just… attentive in that way he has, like every word I say slots into place somewhere inside him, weighed and understood before he responds.
“You do not need to thank me for that,” he says finally, his voice low but steady.
I glance back at him. “Yeah, I do.”
His gaze holds mine, unflinching. “No,” he replies, quieter now. “That is the minimum you are owed.”
Something in my chest shifts.
He continues, slower this time, like he’s choosing each word with care. “You asked for space. For distance. For control over what was yours.” A pause follows. “I would not take that from you.”
There’s no defensiveness in it, and I can tell there’s no expectation of praise. It’s like he’s just making a statement of fact, which is delivered with that same unshakable certainty he brings to everything else.
“I have failed you in other ways,” he adds, and there’s something painful under the surface of his voice now, something that doesn’t quite break through but sits there, present. “I will not fail you in that.”
I swallow hard. I don’t have a quick comeback for it or something cutting or deflective ready to go. So I just nod once, slow, letting it sit. “Still,” I mutter after a second, quieter now. “It matters.”
His expression softens. “Yes,” he says. “It does.”
Silence hangs for a second before I ask, “And now?” I ask.
Emotion shifts in his expression. “I am waiting,” he says.
For me.
The realisation forms clean and precise, cutting through whatever hesitation I’ve been clinging to.
I don’t look away. “Right,” I murmur, and my hand moves before I can overthink it.
This time, I don’t go for his horns. I already know what that does. Instead, I slide my fingers up along the side of his neck, brushing over the faintly luminous markings there.
They’re warmer than I expect.
Not just skin-warm. Something deeper. Like heat sits under the surface, steady and alive.
The reaction is immediate. Varek inhales a jagged breath. He tilts his head just slightly into the touch before he stills himself, like he didn’t mean to do it.
That… does something to me.
“Sensitive there too?” I ask, quieter now.
“Yes.” His voice has dropped. It’s rougher and less controlled.
I trace the edge of one marking, watching the faint shift under my fingers. “That’s… unfair,” I mutter.
His brow furrows slightly. “Unfair?”
“You’ve got all these—” I gesture vaguely with my hand, still touching him. “—features.”
“They are normal.”
“Not to me, they’re not.”
His gaze turns heated, his curiosity threading through some of the tension. “You find them… appealing.”
Not a question.
I huff out a breath. “Don’t make it weird.”
“I’m stating a fact.”
“You’re enjoying this way too much.”
“I’m enjoying your touch,” he says honestly.
He goes still. Then his hand—large, careful—shifts slightly against my side. He doesn’t grab. Doesn’t pull. Just… rests there, like he’s testing the boundary now that we’re aware and face to face.
Once more, he’s waiting. Always waiting. The restraint in it is almost worse than anything else.
I glance down at where his hand touches me, then back up at him. “You can touch me,” I say. The words come out quieter than I expect.
Varek’s entire focus locks in. “You are certain?”
I nod once. “Yeah.”
That’s all it takes. His hand moves. It’s once again slow and careful. Like he’s handling something breakable, even though we both know I’m not.
His fingers slide slightly higher along my side, spanning the width of my ribs without pressing hard enough to hurt. The contact is warm and solid. Grounding in a way that sends a strange, steady heat through my chest.
I didn’t expect that. Didn’t expect it to feel… good. Not just physically but something else, something quieter.
My breath shifts without me meaning it to.
Varek notices. “Does it pain you?” he asks, immediately pulling back a fraction.
“No,” I say quickly, catching his wrist before he can move too far. “No, it’s—” I pause, trying to find the word. “—different.”
His gaze searches mine, like he’s weighing that answer. Then he resets, adjusting his touch, more confident now but still careful. “Your body is healing,” he says.
“Yeah, I figured that part out.”
“The bond accelerates it.”
My brows shoot high. I had wondered. “That’s a convenient discovery.”
“Yes.”
I let out a quiet breath, tension bleeding out of me in ways I’m not entirely prepared to examine. Then, because apparently I’ve committed to this path, I shift closer.
The movement is subtle, but the effect isn’t. The space between us disappears completely, and Varek’s breath catches, his eyes flaring slightly brighter.
And then it hits. Fuck, it slams through me.
Heat.
Not the kind that sits low and manageable, not the slow burn I’ve been skirting around since I woke. This is different. It floods my system in a single, overwhelming surge—intense, consuming, relentless. It feels like stepping too close to a fire and realising too late that you’re already burning.
I suck in a breath. “What the—” I fist his tunic without meaning to, my body reacting before my head can catch up. My pulse spikes, the hairs on my arms standing on end, nerves lighting up like they’ve been wired wrong.
It isn’t just arousal. It’s need.
Raw. Immediate. Demanding in a way that makes my chest feel too tight, my thoughts too slow, my body suddenly too aware of everything at once.
And underneath it—
Pain.
I feel that too.
It threads through the heat, angry and aching, like something stretched too far for too long finally snapping back into motion. It isn’t just physical—it’s deeper than that. Bone-deep. Something instinctive and ancient that doesn’t care about logic or restraint.
“Varek—” My voice comes out rough, unsteady. “What is that?”
He’s already pulling back.
Too fast.
Too sharp.
The heat vanishes as abruptly as it came, ripped away so cleanly, it leaves an echo behind, a hollow ache where it had been.
I gasp, blinking hard, trying to get my bearings again.
Varek is still in front of me, but his posture is rigid in the bed and controlled to the point of strain.
His hands have curled into fists at his sides, claws biting faintly into his palms, and the glow under his skin pulses unevenly now, betraying an emotion he’s trying—and failing—to fully suppress.
“I apologise,” he says, his voice controlled. “I did not intend for you to feel that.”
I stare at him.
Feel that?
“That wasn’t just me,” I say, because it wasn’t. I know my own body. I know what arousal feels like. This… this was something else. “What was that?”
He doesn’t answer immediately. And that’s answer enough to tell me it’s bad.
“Varek.”
His expression firms. Then, finally, he says, “It is… a biological state.”
I blink. “That’s your explanation? What the hell does that even mean?”
“It is the most accurate one I can offer quickly.”
I narrow my gaze. “Try again.” Varek might not be able to lie to me, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have the ability to skirt around truths he doesn’t want to share.
His gaze meets mine, and there’s something in it I don’t see often. Not fear, but… reluctance. Like he does not want to give this to me.
“It is called heat,” he says.
The word lands strangely.
“Heat,” I repeat.
“Yes.”
I sit up a little straighter despite the pull in my ribs, adrenaline cutting through the lingering haze. “What? Like a dog?”
He simply stares at me.
“And you don’t know what a dog is. Right. So, you’ve just—what? Been walking around like that?”
“Not quite.” His answer is immediate, and I don’t fucking like it.
“Okay, so what was that?” I press, the echo of pain and desire still thrumming through me.
There’s a beat of quiet before he says, quieter, “A loss of control.”
That gets my full attention.
“You don’t lose control,” I say.
“I did.”
I stare at him. Because that… doesn’t line up with anything I know about him. Varek is control and precision. Everything about him is measured decisions and deliberate action.
And whatever that was… that heat wasn’t measured.
“That didn’t feel like just arousal,” I say slowly. “That felt like—”
His voice cuts through mine, not harsh, but weighted. “I know what it felt like.”
I hold his gaze. “Then explain it.”
He exhales slowly, like he’s choosing whether to give me the full truth or something easier. Then, because it’s him and he has no choice, he gives me the truth.
“It is cyclical,” he says. “Two days, approximately, each month.”
I blink. I never had a pet growing up, so honestly, I have no real idea about heats or cycles, but I’m going to be honest: This whole thing is fucking weird. As for the pain… I’m fairly certain animals on Earth who go through heat don’t have that. “…You’re serious.”
“Yes.”
“And that just… happens?”
“Yes.”
“And you’ve been—what? Dealing with that on your own?”
“Yes.”
The word falls like a stone.
I frown. “Since when?” Maybe this is normal for his species and something that happens when they hit puberty.
His gaze doesn’t waver. “Since you arrived in Terrafeara.”
I go still, my eyes popping wide. “What?”