Page 29 of Aries

We move carefully through the darkness to our sleeping area, settling on either side of the thin barrier pillow that’s meant to keep us separated.

“It’s cold. Sounds like sleet against the windows. Soon it will turn to snow. The barrier,” I manage through clenched teeth. “We need to adjust it. For body heat.”

It’s our nightly ritual—sharing warmth through that symbolic divide. But tonight feels different. Dangerous. The storm strips away careful control, leaving raw nerves and rising awareness.

Spark expands its glow, creating a dome of gentle light around us. Its color shifts to something deeper, richer than its usual bright hues. Theshimmerlingseems to sense the changing energy between us.

Working together, we rearrange ourselves on either side of the barrier. But the thunder makes me flinch, and somehow, we end up pressed closer than usual, only the thin batting between us. I can feel every curve of her body through the barrier, smell the clean scent of her hair, and hear the slight catch in her breath when my hand accidentally brushes hers.

“This okay?” The storm’s fury makes her voice seem more intimate, as if she’s speaking directly into my mind.

“Yes.” The word comes out rough. Another lightning flash illuminates her face—pupils dilated, lips slightly parted. The sight sends blood flooding to my cock. “No. I don’t know.”

Spark trails lightning bolts through its protective dome. There’s something different about its patterns tonight—more sensual somehow, less playful. The light paints Callie’s skin in shifting patterns that make my fingers itch to trace them.

“Can I…” She hesitates, then continues softly, “Would it help if I held your hand? It’s allowed during emergencies.”

The simple offer undoes me somehow. After the Memory Reconciliation sessions, after seeing how gentle I tried to be even in that cell, she wants to offer comfort. To see past the walls I built when I thought they were protecting her.

Her fingers find mine across the barrier. The touch sends electricity racing up my arm, making it hard to remember why we maintain such careful distance. Her thumb traces patterns on my palm that mirror Spark’s light show, and my whole body thrums with awareness.

Thunder crashes again, but this time, the memories feel less immediate. Less powerful than the present moment—than Callie’s touch and Spark’s protective light and the growing heat between us.

“The memory sessions were dangerous,” she murmurs. “Just not in the way I anticipated. Now I can’t take my mind off of all the ways I want to break the rules.”

Perhaps a few weeks ago I wouldn’t have known what she’s hinting at, but I have no doubt what she means, because I’m close to removing that fucking barrier and owning her mouth with mine.

“Callie…” Her name comes out with the same reverence I would use when talking to the Goddess. “We should…”

“Should what?” Her fingers continue their maddening patterns against my palm. “Maintain proper distance? Pretend we don’t feel this?”

“The rules…”

“Allow contact during emergencies.” Her voice holds a smile. “And this definitely feels like an emergency.”

As if agreeing, Spark expands its protective dome, the light taking on a rosy hue. Theshimmerling’s patterns grow more elaborate, creating an intimate cocoon that seems to pulse in time with our matched heartbeats.

“Tell me about the storm,” she says softly, still tracing patterns that make it hard to think. “About why it brings up memories of someone named Kren.”

The name hits like cold water, dousing the heat building between us. My hand tightens on hers as memories surge—rain and blood and desperate choices.

“Not yet,” I manage. “Please. I can’t… not tonight.”

“Okay.” Her free hand moves, almost touches my face across the barrier, then she pulls it away and covers her mouth with it as though she’s physically holding herself back from kissing me. “Then just be here with me. In this moment.”

The storm rages on, but its power diminishes with each gentle touch, each shared breath. Spark’s light wraps usin warmth and possibility as distance becomes harder to maintain. Even through the barrier, every point of contact feels charged with dangerous awareness.

“We should sleep,” I say finally, though sleep feels impossible with her so close, so tempting, sowilling.

“Should we?” Her voice holds heat that makes my blood sing. “Or should we acknowledge that something’s changing between us? That our apologies and honesty have decimated some of our walls?”

Before I can respond, lightning illuminates her face again—showing me truth and want and something deeper that terrifies me more than any storm. Because she’s right. Everything is changing. And I’m no longer sure I have the strength to stop it.

Or if I even want to.

Spark creates another heart pattern above us, but this one seems to shimmer with deeper meaning. The light traces down, following the curve of Callie’s neck, highlighting places I ache to touch, to lick.

“Your eyes change color when you want me,” she whispers, and the direct acknowledgment makes my breath catch. “Did you know that?”

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