Page 135 of Stream Heat
When I opened my eyes, Malik was watching, head tilted, eyes a little darker than usual. Like he’d been waiting to see if something shifted. It had.
“Better?” he asked.
“Yeah.” I could feel how true it was; the restless edge was still there, but manageable. “Thanks.”
He smiled, but didn’t look away. “I had a feeling the breathing wasn’t the only reason you came in.”
I almost laughed. “Am I that transparent?”
He shrugged, but there was nothing mocking in it. “To people who pay attention.” Pause. “Do you want to talk about it?”
He meant it. No pressure, but no escape, either. If I wanted to be silent, he’d let me. But I didn’t.
“It’s the pack bonds.” I exhaled, the words easier now that I’d had time to get used to the idea. “What they mean. What each of you reflects back at me. I’ve been trying to figure out what yours will be.”
Recognition lit up his face. “So you’ve been analyzing.”
“That sounds clinical,” I said, even though he wasn’t wrong. “It’s more like… realizing I see myself differently with each of you.”
“And you’re not sure what you’ll see, with me.”
“Right.” It should have been easy. I’d had enough therapy to know how these conversations went. But this… this was different. “It’s not that you don’t give me something, it’s just harder to define.”
He didn’t flinch at that. “Maybe because what I offer isn’t a thing, but a way of existing. Not an action, a lens.”
That nailed it. “So… mindfulness?” I tried the word out.
“Presence,” he agreed, voice softening again. “No judgment. Acceptance.”
I nodded, but it still felt like I was only seeing half the picture. “There’s more, though.”
“There always is, Quinn.” He shifted, his knee barely brushing mine. The contact sent a pulse through our half-formed bond. “But the question is, are you ready to dive into it?”
This was it, then. The final test. Not just naming the feeling, but letting it take over. I leaned forward, not even pretending to hide the want in it. “I want to see how it feels. Not just guess.”
His pupils widened; the scent in the room darkened, richer. “Are you sure? You don’t have to. You’re stable. If you need more time, or if you change your mind, I won’t push.”
He meant it, too. The lack of pressure, the way he never tried to take control, even when I was begging for someone to do just that, it made everything else fall away.
“I’m sure,” I said. “I want your bond, Malik. Not because I need another fix or because the others want it, but because I want you. That part of you.”
He was so still, for a heartbeat, I worried I’d screwed it up. Then he smiled, slow and careful, like he’d been waiting his whole life for me to say that.
“What do you think it will mean, for us?” he asked. Not a test. Not a trick. Just curiosity.
I took my time. “The others… they’re about survival. Action. You’re about… letting myself exist. Accepting that who I am, right now, is sufficient.” I looked at him directly. “I want that.”
He held my gaze, something bright in his eyes. “That’s more self-awareness than I generally see in a year’s worth of counseling.”
“I’ve had excellent teachers,” I said, dry. Five of them, and all a little too involved for their own good.
He snorted, then sobered. “So what do you want to do about it?”
Perfectly Malik, giving me the lead, even though we both knew I wanted him to take it. “I want to finish what we started,” I said, and I meant every word. “I want your mark. Your bond.”
He weighed something, internally, before he nodded. “Then you should know, just like Ash’s, my bond isn’t like the others. Not better, not worse. Different.”
“How?” I wanted the truth, no sugar-coating.
