Well… when he put it that way…
He dropped my hands completely, shaking his head. I expected him to back off, but he stayed where he was, pressing me into the car, with our arms hanging uncertainly. I found myself staring at him, drawn to the morning sunlight that slanted over his perfect features, glinting into the dark sweep of his hair and reflecting in the soft black velvet of his eyes. He was taller than Noah and Cabe, so tall that it almost hurt to crane my neck back so that I could peer up at him. I felt that he should have appeared different to me—changed, or evolved. I wanted him to show signs of transformation so that the seemingly absurd shift of my own feelings toward him would make sense. His careful gaze narrowed on mine, reading into my own confusion as a pressure settled into the dip of my waist. He touched me almost experimentally, drawing my attention from his face so that I could instead examine his hands as they moulded naturally to the curve of my body. I had grown accustomed to allowing my body the freedom of its own reactions over the last year—but I would soon have to change that. I wasn’t stiffening and drawing away, or blacking out and stumbling. I was becoming a vessel of sensation, melting closer as Quillan’s fingers slid against the silky material of my top. I hadn’t even noticed him pushing aside the opening of my cardigan, but the single remaining layer between his skin and mine was unmistakable, the gentle slide of whatever silk-blend my top was made of allowing his touch to slide up the natural curve of my hip to my waist, where the material bunched slightly as his grip became firm.
“Why aren’t you pushing me away?” he asked, his voice finally reflecting the turmoil that was dancing violently inside my head.
It was fascinating to see the hesitation in his eyes and feel the complete lack of hesitation in the way he held me. The contradiction was enough to put me on edge about the question. I stopped to consider it seriously, the sounds of nearby people rushing back to me, assaulting me with our own stupidity. Quillan had me pinned me up against the car, and we were surrounded by Zevs. But then again… his car was hiding us on one side, with the scattering of pine trees that edged the parking lot shielding our other side. Quillan also had his face lowered, his expression hidden.
“Maybe I’m straining,” I replied carefully. It tasted like a lie, and that confused me even more.
I started to tell myself that I had never felt that way about Quillan, but my mind spluttered around the thought and pulled up short, not allowing it any traction. I had idolised Quillan right from the start; I had craved his attention, his approval, his voice and his heavy eyes… and now I craved his touch.
No. No. That wasn’t possible. Things couldn’t just change like that.
My breath halted, and I grew very still. I didn’t even dare to blink my eyes or taste any oxygen. The itching feeling and the blackouts had completely disappeared, leaving behind the strange yearning that assaulted me whenever Silas touched me.
I didn’t know how to deal with it.
I couldn’t believe it was happening.
“I don’t think you are,” Quillan countered softly, interrupting my thoughts. “You haven’t strained in months.”
“It’s overdue, then.” I laughed, but it was an uncertain laugh, fraught with nervous indecision.
“I know.” He shifted a little bit, his fingers tightening fractionally in their hold. “But you’re still not straining. You get this vacant, panicked look in your eyes when you are. I’ve been doing some research, trying to figure out why it might have gone away… but there isn’t any information out there about bonding with two different pairs, and I can’t exactly ask the Klovoda…”
I noticed movement in the trees, distracting me from what he was saying. I pushed against Quillan’s chest, remembering my two bodyguards, and he backed away instantly, walking around to the other side of the car as though nothing at all had happened. He got in and started the car, but I stared into the trees a moment longer before pulling the door open. I was about to climb inside when I saw it again: a person was moving between the trees. A man: hood pulled up over his head, his broad back presented as he strode away. My heart lurched in my throat, and a strangled sound escaped… but it was impossible.
Silas couldn’t be here.