Page 27 of Second

Zar’Ryn stiffened, his jaw tightening. “She does not owe you answers,” he said coldly.

Tor’Vek’s gaze shifted to him, unflinching. “If you want an explanation to explain all this, Zar’Ryn, you will need to provide some answers in return.”

Elara raised a hand before Zar’Ryn could reply, her expression calm but firm. “It’s fine,” she said quietly. She turned back to Tor’Vek, tension radiating through her. “When it flares, Ifeel… everything. It’s like I’m not just feeling my emotions anymore. I’m also feeling his.”

“And physically?” Tor’Vek pressed.

Elara hesitated, her gaze flicking to Zar’Ryn. He gave her a slight nod, his chest tightening at the thought of her sharingsuch personal details. But he knew it was necessary. They needed answers, even if it meant allowing Tor’Vek to pick apart the most vulnerable parts of their connection.

“It’s… overwhelming,” Elara admitted. “Like a flood, but it’s not just inside my head. It’s in my body, too. Ifeel stronger, faster. Like I’m moving before I even realize what I’m doing. Like the need that fills me has to be quenched right away or I won’t survive it.”

Tor’Vek nodded, his expression thoughtful. “And you, Zar’Ryn? Do you feel the same?”

He hesitated, his instincts urging him to hold back, to protect this part of himself. But Elara’s steady gaze anchored him, and he forced himself to speak. “It is similar,” he said, his voice low. “But it is more than that. When the bond flares, it is like she is… inside me. Like we are not two separate beings anymore.”

Tor’Vek’s expression remained unreadable, but Zar’Ryn didn’t miss the faint flicker of something—concern, or perhaps unease—in the other warrior’seyes.

“This is not just a connection,” the scientist said finally. His voice, though calm, carried a weight that settled like a storm cloud over the table. “It is a fusion.”

The word hit Zar’Ryn like a blow, the implications far worse than he wanted to acknowledge. Fusion wasn’t just connection—it was irrevocable. Permanent. Abinding of two beings at the deepest, most unbreakable level.

He glanced at Elara, who sat silent and still, her fingers curling tightly around the edge of the table. She didn’t look at him, but the bond spoke louder than words. Fear. Uncertainty.Afaint undercurrent of hope. It was enough to tighten something in his chest.

Tor’Vek leaned back in his chair, his dark gaze fixing on Zar’Ryn. “You know what this means,” he said quietly. It wasn’t a question.

“No,” Zar’Ryn said, his voice sharper than he intended. “I do not.”

Tor’Vek’s eyes narrowed slightly. “It means that if the bond fails—or is severed by one of you—it will not just harm the one.” He paused, his gaze flicking briefly to Elara. “It will destroy you both.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Zar’Ryn’s pulse pounded in his ears, his body taut with a tension he couldn’t release. Across the table, Elara finally looked at him, her darkened eyes searchinghis.

Through the bond, he felt the question before she even spoke it.What does this mean forus?

Zar’Ryn forced himself to hold her gaze, even as his thoughts spiraled into chaos. There was no answer he could give her. No promise that wouldn’t feel like a lie. All he knew was that the woman in front of him was now as much a part of him as the blood in his veins—and the very thing binding them together might also tear them apart.

Tor’Vek stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. “I will leave you to consider that,” he said, his tone disturbingly clinical. “I have a heat flash coming on.” He turned and left the galley, his steps echoing down the sterile corridor.

The quiet that followed felt suffocating. Zar’Ryn didn’t move, his fists clenching and unclenching beneath the table. Thebond hummed faintly, areminder of the woman sitting so close yet feeling impossibly faraway.

“It won’t destroy us,” Elara said suddenly, her voice steady despite the tremor in the bond. “I won’t let it.”

Her defiance cut through his storm of thoughts, grounding him in a way he didn’t expect. He met her gaze, the weight of her words settling heavily between them. He wanted to believe her—neededto believe her—but the echoes of Tor’Vek’s warning lingered, unshakable.

And in the silence, asingle thought surfaced, cold and unrelenting: He was a warrior, the most skilled warrior of his unit, of all the Intergalactic Warriors, and the one at the most risk. What if something happened to him? What if his life ended. Would hers end,too?

There was no way to saveher?

Chapter 11

ELARA SATat the table, watching Zar’Ryn as he stared at the cooling food in front of him. He held his body impossibly still, yet tension radiated from him like heat off metal, coiled tight beneath the surface.

The pulsing of the bond lingered between them—afaint, steady rhythm she couldn’t ignore even if she wanted to. And judging by the tight set of his jaw and the way his hands rested motionless on either side of the plate, neither couldhe.

Tor’Vek had left abruptly, his parting words clinical and devoid of warmth. “I need to manage this heat flash before it takes hold. Iwill return when I am able.” With that, he’d disappeared down one of the sterile corridors, leaving her alone with Zar’Ryn and a thousand unspoken questions.

The silence now stretched taut between them. Elara wanted to speak, but the words felt heavy in her throat. She had thought their connection earlier—both physical and emotional—might ease some of the tension between them, but Zar’Ryn seemedeven more withdrawn. She hadn’t expected him to be an open book, but this stoic, distant version of him made her heart ache in ways she couldn’t quite explain.

He didn’t look at her, but she could see the effort it cost him to keep his gaze fixed on the table. His hands flexed minutely, the motion barely perceptible, and yet her eyes caught it. It was the only sign he wasn’t a statue—flesh and blood hardened to marble by centuries of discipline and a lifetime of isolation.

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