Chapter 11
CHAPTER
ELEVEN
Being bonded is weird as hell. Seriously.
I can feel Varek. Not just in the vague he’s somewhere nearby way I’ve gotten used to over the past couple of days, but properly—like a quiet pull in my chest that points in a direction and settles there.
If I focus on it, I can almost track him. Not exactly. Not precisely. But enough.
Enough to know he slipped out of bed in the middle of the night without waking me.
Enough to know exactly where he is now.
He’s at the headquarters in the bowling alley that found its way into this dimension however many rifts ago.
I huff under my breath, arms folding loosely across my chest as I stand near the edge of the settlement, watching the steady movement of people coming and going. “Course you did,” I mutter. “Could’ve at least left a note.”
The bond hums faintly. It’s steady and calm. There’s no distressing pulse or urgency. All I sense is him—focused and working.
“Hey.”
I turn at the sound of a young voice—familiar in a way that hits something soft in my chest before I even register why—and blink.
Human.
Kid.
Aussie accent.
Right.
“—Oh, hey,” I say, straightening slightly. His name clicks into place a second later. “Jamie, right?”
“Yep. One and the same.”
The grin he gives me is bright and unapologetic, all curiosity and zero hesitation. He looks me up and down like he’s sizing me up, and I can’t help the small, approving nod I give him.
Sensible kid.
At his side is someone else. And yeah—that gets my attention. I don’t even try to hide the curiosity this time. I just look.
The figure beside him is… not human. Not even close.
He presents as male, young at a glance—eighteen, maybe nineteen if I had to guess by human standards—but there’s something off about that assessment the longer I look at him. Not wrong. Just… incomplete.
His skin is almost translucent, catching the ambient glow of Dathanor in a way that makes him look faintly lit from within. Not glowing, exactly. Just… refracting. His eyes are a vivid, impossible blue, bright enough that they stand out even in a place like this.
He’s beautiful, unsettling so. He’s also currently looking at me as if I’m something he’s just pulled out of a box and isn’t entirely sure how it works.
“This here is Caly,” Jamie says, clearly pleased with himself as he gestures between us.
Caly doesn’t speak straight away. He studies me like a problem he’s trying to solve. Then he lifts his hand. It stops maybe a couple of millimetres from my face. I flinch before I can stop myself, instinct snapping fast and hard. My body shifts automatically, ready to block, to move, to—
“Caly, not so close to his face,” Jamie cuts in quickly. He grabs Caly’s arm and tugs it down, shooting me an apologetic look that somehow still carries that same easy confidence.
“This is how humans greet each other, right?” Caly asks, glancing at his still-outstretched hand like it’s a piece of equipment he’s trying to operate correctly. His voice is calm and thoughtful. It’s also a little too precise.
“Well, yeah,” Jamie says, clearly trying not to laugh. “Sort of.” He releases Caly’s arm and turns back to me, shifting gears seamlessly. “Like this, see?”
He sticks his hand out towards me. I take it, shaking it once, my grip firm out of habit. Jamie beams like he’s just successfully completed a lesson.
Caly watches the whole thing with intense focus. Then, very deliberately, he mirrors the action. His hand extends again—this time at a much more appropriate height.
I take it. His grip is lighter than Jamie’s, but there’s something controlled about it. Like he’s calibrating pressure in real time.
“Pax,” I say, because apparently introductions are still happening.
“Yeah,” Caly says, like that confirms something for him. “I’m aware.”
I blink. “…right.”
Jamie snorts. “He does that.”
“I observe,” Caly corrects mildly.
“You stare,” Jamie says.
“I analyse.” He rolls his eyes, much like I imagine Jamie does.
“Yeah, that’s not less creepy.” Jamie nudges him, and Caly pitches to the side, though I get the feeling he’s immoveable if he wants to be.
I huff out a laugh before I can stop it, the sound surprising me a little.
It doesn’t hurt as much as it should. My ribs barely complain.
As for my arm, I don’t have access to an X-ray machine, but I’d swear it’s practically healed.
I’ve had enough broken bones over the years to know when an injury is finally on the mend.
This weird officially bonded perk is definitely one I’m happy about.
“You always this intense?” I ask, glancing between them.
“Yes,” Jamie says immediately.
“Only when I’m being judged,” Caly adds at the same time, a faint smirk tugging at his mouth.
They both look at each other.
Jamie grins. “See?”
Caly huffs a soft, airy laugh, rolling one shoulder like he’s been mildly inconvenienced. “You are judging him,” he points out to Jamie, then flicks his gaze back to me, eyes bright with interest. “I’m just doing it more efficiently.”
“Fantastic,” I mutter. “Good to know I’m part of a comparison chart.”
“You are,” Caly says easily. “But it’s not a bad one. We’re all just a little curious about the human fated to Varek.”
I don’t have time to respond or even laugh as Jamie leans in slightly, lowering his voice like he’s about to share something important. “He’s been like this all morning.”
“I have not,” Caly replies, but there’s a hint of amusement in it now.
“You absolutely have.”
“I’ve been helpful,” Caly corrects, lifting a hand in mild self-defence. “There’s a difference.”
“You tried to reorganise the food stores.”
“I improved the system.”
“You sorted them by texture.”
Caly shrugs, completely unbothered. “It’s more intuitive.”
“For who?” Jamie demands. “Decca’s pissed.”
“For anyone who doesn’t panic when they can’t find something,” Caly shoots back lightly. “Which, notably, is not you… or Decca apparently.”
I snort before I can stop myself, a little in shock by how incredible Caly’s English is.
Jamie points at him. “See? This is what I’m dealing with.”
“You’re dealing with competence,” Caly says, flashing a quick, crooked grin—a couple of pointy teeth just visible. “It’s a heavy burden, I know.”
I shake my head, the corner of my mouth pulling up despite myself. “You two always like this?” I ask.
“Yep,” Jamie says cheerfully.
“Only when he needs distracting,” Caly says at the same time, then flicks Jamie a look that’s just a little too knowing to be accidental.
Jamie doesn’t even notice. I do, and yeah—that confirms it.
There’s an ease between them that’s hard to miss.
It’s both familiar and comfortable. Jamie moves around Caly without hesitation, and Caly—despite the keen awareness and constant vigilance—adjusts seamlessly.
He keeps pace, nudges conversations just enough to keep them light.
It’s not random but deliberate. I clock it without thinking.
“Where’s your uncle?” I ask Jamie.
“Headquarters,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Apparently I’m ‘not allowed’ today.”
“Same,” I say dryly.
That gets a grin out of him. “Yeah, well, apparently we’re both too young or too recently stabbed to be useful.”
“Hey,” I protest. “I’m extremely useful.”
Jamie gives me a look. “Uh-huh. And that’s the reason you’re hanging out here, right?”
I snort. “Mate, I’m standing, breathing, and not actively dying. That’s already a solid improvement from a few days ago.”
“Convenient,” he says, clearly unimpressed.
“Very.” I roll my shoulders, testing the movement again out of habit more than necessity. There’s a faint pull—nothing more than a reminder—but the pain that should be there just… isn’t.
Caly watches the movement, tracking the shift with quiet interest. This time, though, there’s no hard edge to it. No clinical detachment. Just curiosity laced with something almost playful.
“You’re healed,” he says, like he’s confirming a theory rather than asking a question.
I glance at him. “Mostly.”
“That’s not normal,” Jamie cuts in immediately.
“No,” I agree. “It’s not.”
Caly hums softly, tilting his head as he studies me—not invasive, just… thoughtful. “Bond-related,” he says after a moment, like he’s piecing it together out loud. “Accelerated recovery tied to connection and proximity.”
I blink. “You always narrate your thoughts like that?”
“Only when they’re interesting,” he says lightly.
Jamie snorts. “Everything’s interesting to him.”
“Not everything,” Caly corrects, flicking him a quick look before returning his attention to me. “But you are.”
“Fantastic,” I mutter. “Love that for me.”
Jamie grins. “Yeah, you’ve been upgraded from ‘mildly suspicious’ to ‘actively fascinating.’”
“Thrilled.”
Caly’s mouth curves at the corner, the expression brief but deliberate, like he’s choosing when to let it show. It softens the intensity of his stare just enough to make it feel less like I’m under examination and more like I’ve passed some kind of test I didn’t realise I was taking.
“You’re adapting faster than expected,” he says, his tone thoughtful rather than clinical. “Most don’t.”
I can only assume he’s talking about the bond, since I’ve been here a decade. “Yeah, well,” I reply, rolling one shoulder with easy confidence, letting the movement travel through my body without resistance. “Guess I’m special.”
Jamie snorts immediately. “That’s one word for it.”
I huff out a laugh, and this time it comes easier. My body feels… right. Strong. Like whatever damage had been done has been smoothed over by something that doesn’t follow human rules.
Caly watches the movement closely, but the edge to his attention has softened.
There’s just simple curiosity there now, threaded with something almost playful, like he’s enjoying the process rather than just dissecting it.
“You’re not compensating anymore,” he says as if continuing a conversation he’d been having in his own head. “No guarded movement. No hesitation.”