49. Because the bond creates this need
For one frozen second, nobody moves.
Then Mera's voice. "Oh."
I can't see her—he's blocking my entire view—but I hear shuffling. Multiple footsteps.
"Is the Leader—" A male voice. One of the guards.
"Out. Both of you." Mera's voice is firm. "Now."
"But we heard—"
"Out."
More shuffling. The door closes.
He doesn't move yet. I can feel his heart pounding—or maybe that's mine.
"Are they gone?" I whisper.
He shifts slightly, glancing back. Then he looks down at me, and despite everything, his mouth twitches. Just barely.
He rolls off me, keeping the blanket in place, and sits up on the edge of the bed.
I clutch the blanket to my chest and look toward the door.
Mera is leaning against it, one hand still on the handle. Her face is flushed. She looks at him, then at me, then at the bed—at the twisted sheets, at my towel bunched somewhere in the mess of blankets.
Her mouth opens. Closes. Opens again.
"I'm not sure I would recommend—" She waves her hand vaguely at us, at the bed. "Whatever this was..."
We both stare at her. I'm clutching the blanket like it's the only thing keeping me alive.
"I mean, I'm happy you're remembering things, but you just had a serious head injury and—"
"Mera," he says.
"—your brain needs time to heal properly, and elevated heart rate, increased blood pressure, any kind of strenuous activity could cause the swelling to return, or worse, bleeding—"
"Mera." He says it again.
"—the brain is delicate, even for us, and you were unconscious for hours, which means the initial impact was severe enough to—"
"Mera."
"—and physical exertion, especially this kind of physical exertion, redirects blood flow away from the healing process, and your neural pathways are still recovering, you could experience dizziness, disorientation, memory lapses beyond what you've already—"
"Mera." This time his voice drops lower, harder. Not loud, but it cuts through her rambling and she stops mid-sentence.
"Sorry, Leader, but I get it—you two have a lot of catching up to do, and I know mated pairs need to... reconnect—"
"Mera—"
"—and based on how often you two were probably doing it before—"
"We weren't—" I start.
"—I completely understand the urge—"
"Mera, we didn't—" he tries.
"—to just, you know—"
"We really weren't—" I say again.
"—get reacquainted—"
"Mera—" His voice is strained now.
"—physically—"
"We didn't—" I try.
"—because the bond creates this need—"
"Mera, that's not—" he starts.
"—this very strong, very natural need—"
"We weren't doing that—" I manage.
"—to be close—"
"Mera—"
"—very close—"
"We just—" I start.
"—extremely close, actually—"
"Mera, listen—" he tries again.
"—to engage in certain activities—"
"To just what?" I blurt out, immediately regretting it, because I genuinely don't want her to answer this.
"—mated wolves typically engage in—"
"We weren't engaging—" he says.
"—frequently, based on what I observed before—"
"You observed—" My voice goes up.
"—not directly observed, but the signs were clear—"
"What signs—"
"—and I'm just saying, as your healer, maybe take a break from the—"
"Please, Mera." His voice comes out flat, resigned, like he's already accepted defeat.
"—you know—"
"No, we don't!" I snap, exasperated.
"—the physical—"
"Oh for the love of—what physical Mera—" My voice cracks with mortification.
"—the mating—"
"We weren't mating—" he says firmly.
"—INTERCOURSE!"" She practically shouts it, hands thrown up, breathing hard like she just finished a race.
Silence.
Complete, dead silence.
I stare at her. He stares at her. She stares back at us, hands still mid-gesture.
My mouth opens. Nothing comes out. I look at him. He's looking at the ceiling like he's praying for patience.
I look back at Mera. She's standing there like she just solved a complicated medical problem.
My face is on fire.
"We weren't—we didn't—" I gesture wildly at the bed, at him, at nothing.
"Nothing happened—well, things happened but not that—we were just kissing, which isn't—I mean it is something but it's not—" I look at the ceiling, then at my hands clutching the blanket, anywhere but at them.
"We've never actually—you know—" I lower my voice like that somehow makes it less mortifying. "—done that. Not that we won't, or wouldn't, eventually, maybe, probably, but we just haven't—" My hands are waving around now, completely out of my control.
"And I know what it looked like when you walked in but we weren't about to—I mean I don't even know if we were going to—we might have but we didn't get that far—not that we were planning to go that far right now—"
I glance at him. His eyebrows are raised, but when I meet his eyes, there's a smile tugging at his mouth—small, warm, like he's trying not to laugh.
He's watching me with something soft in his expression, like he's enjoying every mortified word coming out of my mouth.
I look back at Mera, then down at the blanket in my hands.
"We've just never—" I try again. "Like, ever. At all. So we weren't—because we haven't—"
Fuck. What am I even saying.
I want to disappear. Just stop existing entirely.
His hand finds mine under the blanket, fingers threading through mine and squeezing once. Firm. Steady.
He glances at me, then back at Mera.
"Why are you still in here?" He looks extremely done with her, and this entire situation.
"Right. Sorry." Mera's hands go up."Maz wants to see you," she says, switching topics fast.
He nods once. "Tell him I'll be there in ten minutes."
Mera glances between us one more time, then finally—finally—turns and leaves. The door clicks shut behind her.
Silence.
I stare at the door, my face still burning.
"So," he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice. "You don't even know if we were going to—"
"Don't." I turn to look at him, mortified. "Don't you dare."
"—but we might have—"
"I hate you."
"—but we didn't get that far—" His thumb traces slow circles on the back of my hand. "—not that you were planning to go that far right now."
"Stop." But I'm smiling now too, despite myself.
He shifts closer, his free hand coming up to brush a strand of wet hair away from my face. His fingers linger at my temple, gentle. "I'm just trying to understand. Were we planning to go that far? Or were we not planning to?"
I cover his face with my hand, pushing him away. "If you keep talking, I'm leaving."
He catches my wrist, pulling my hand down but keeping hold of it. He kisses my knuckles, grinning. "Because it sounded like maybe you didn't know—"
My face is on fire again.
He's grinning at me, eyes warm, that teasing glint back in them. His hand comes up to cup my cheek, thumb brushing along my jaw.
I lean in close, my lips almost touching his ear, and whisper, "But I want to."
His breath catches. Both hands find my waist now, pulling me closer.