“You know what happens when you run.”
They’ve bonded, I realize.
I’ve been so focused on Mirth, then distracted by Sully, that I didn’t feel the shift in the tenor of energy that threads between Bolan and Mirth. It’s not the robust connection that anchored my parents together, and is therefore far easier to miss, even with my general sensitivity to essence. But still, utter relief floods through me, cracking the numbness threatening to take up residence in my chest.
As erratic and self-centered as the rock star seems on the surface, I know now that he’s all in— to the bond group and to Mirth.
“Don’t run,” Bolan says.
Pure unfettered defiance brightens Mirth’s eyes. She raises her chin, then completely and utterly dismisses Bolan, taking a single step to the side and striding past him, past us all. As if none of us exist.
She heads straight for the door.
I expect Bolan to grab her. Sully was already pushing her around.
I’d have to stop him, I realize. I don’t want to get between them. Yes, each of us must navigate our own connections with the others, but we can’t force any of those connections, especially not physically. I should have curtailed Sully’s handling of Mirth earlier as well.
The princess lays her fingers across the handle of the door.
Bolan sinks to his knees. He doesn’t take a step first or make a sound. He simply kneels and waits, staring after Mirth. There is absolutely nothing playful in the gesture this time.
Mirth stills, staring at the door for a moment before she slowly looks back at him over her shoulder. Energy gently shifts between them. She pivots just as slowly, presses her back againstthe door, and closes her eyes. The backpack dangles from her fingers.
“I’m not playing games,” she murmurs, seemingly to herself.
Bolan doesn’t move a muscle. “I know.”
“You’re acting like I’m a game. Like this is a game.”
She means more than just Bolan kneeling or the bet. ‘Dibs.’ I didn’t realize that bothered her. I know Mirth isn’t the simple, perfect-princess persona she wears with seeming ease, but I had no inkling …
I tear my gaze off her, watching Bolan instead. Is it just his heightened senses that help him assess Mirth’s emotional state? Or is their bond growing stronger, even in this moment?
I want that connection so badly I can fucking taste it.
“It won’t happen again,” Bolan says, steady as a fucking rock while my heart still beats wildly in my chest. “You’re mine, and I’m yours. Sully doesn’t give a fuck about a stupid fucking title. His meds aren’t working well, and something pissed him off yesterday. He’s not talking to me about it either. Elias isn’t fucking the shifter in the front office. I would smell sex on them. You aren’t an inconvenience or an obligation. To any of us. And Elias, specifically, wants any part of you that you’re willing to share with him.”
Well, that was perfectly concise.
Maybe Bolan should speak for us all more often. Maybe I’ve completely underestimated the rock star.
Mirth raises her chin a little higher. Though her bright eyes betray the molten core of her emotional state, she’s all poised and cool toned as she says, “Elias can fuck whoever he wants. And Sully never wanted the title.” Her blazing gaze slides toward the devastated mage hanging on her every word, her every breath.
All three of us are desperate to move past this awkward, soul-wrenching moment.
Now who’s the dramatic one?
Bolan chuckles, dark edged. “Eli can fuck whoever, hey?”
Tension runs through Mirth’s jaw. Her gaze flicks to me, and she clarifies, “Whoever he wants.”
I smile tightly at that. Then I follow Bolan’s blunt lead. “I never really wanted, truly wanted anyone before. Before you, Mirth. Before this bond group. Sex was just a … necessity, not a desire. And companionship, deep friendship was … unnecessary.”
Mirth listens to every word, tilting her head in acknowledgment once she’s absorbed them. I hope. Then she flicks her gaze to Sully. He jerks as if meeting her gaze is like grabbing a live wire.
A perfectly understandable reaction.
“The title means nothing,” Sully says dully. “It was nothing to my mother. It was nothing to my father. And they ultimately were nothing to me, weren’t they?”
