Page 215 of Altius
“Hey, while I have you,” I said tentatively, wrapping the comforter tighter around my shoulders. “Settle a silly dispute we’ve been having—what does a mating bond feel like?”
“Why, thinking about taking the toothy plunge?”
“No, just curious. Wyatt says it’s like a ball of yarn following you everywhere.”
“What an immature interpretation. It’s much stronger than that—like a second heartbeat made of sunshine and security. Constant reassurance.”
The certainty of her answer made the bottom of my stomach fall out. But I still had to ask, just to be sure.
“Even when they leave the room?”
Audra let out a peal of throaty laughter. “What kind of nonsense have you two been watching? It’s called a bond for a reason. Your souls are woven together, like emotional chainmail. It’s unbreakable. It wouldn’t matter if they left the room or the planet. Our bond would still be just as strong.”
“See,” I said with forced lightness, blinking back tears, ignoring the dozens of thorns digging into my scalp, “I knew I was right.”
Oh, how I wished I wasn’t.
***
By the time our plane landed in Northport, Wyatt’s oblivious happiness was the only thing holding me together.
Even if you took the unintended bonding out of the equation, we’d still overdone it on the sex. Pain radiated from every joint in my back and my ass was numb, despite sitting in first class.
I’d also overindulged on trigger foods, using our trip as an excuse. Hadn’t consumed enough water. My pill timing was screwed up.
What an inauspicious start to my daily life without Kelsey.
I wanted to curl up in the library nest with several gallons of water and snuggle with my cats for three days before facing another human being.
But I needed to talk to Cal immediately—hopefully before Rory got his sticky paws on me, insisting on a full tour of Kelsey’s apartment and the new, improved Beaufeather’s.
At least I had my trusty sunglasses. Wyatt’s shoulder was an excellent pillow. And whoever packed my pills for the weekend included the good pain meds.
“We should always fly like this,” Wyatt said, toying with our entwined fingers as we taxied toward our gate.
“Like what—first class?”
“No. Mated.”
I gave him a flat stare. “Isn’t that something of a foregone conclusion?”
“Don’t make fun of me,” he said, digging his thumb into the back of my hand. “What I mean is that I much prefer being with you on a flight—talking, touching—instead of how we were the last time we flew into Northport together. You know, when you barely looked at me.”
“You’re the one who only wanted to talk about sports.”
“Because I had no idea what to say to you!”
“And I’m a master of small talk, without an ounce of social awkwardness?”
“Fine, fine, rub it in. I’m the dumb one.” Wyatt dropped my hand, busying himself with gathering our belongings.
Leaning back in my seat, I admired the flex of his muscled forearms and the casual charm of his long hair.
“Only you would have dared take me to Montreal, Wyatt. To turn a bad ending into a new beginning. That’s your brilliance. How thoughtful you are. You’re more perceptive than you give yourself credit for.”
He shot a bashful glance over his shoulder. Red cheeks intensified the blue of his eyes. “Shit, baby. I was aiming for an ‘I love you,’ not… Not all that.”
If Wyatt needed to hear how I felt about him, did that mean he couldn’t sense it through the bond?
