silk-blend my top was made of allowing his touch to slide up the natural curve of my hip to my waist, where the material bunched slightly as his grip became firm.
“Why aren’t you pushing me away?” he asked, his voice finally reflecting the turmoil that was dancing violently inside my head.
It was fascinating to see the hesitation in his eyes and feel the complete lack of hesitation in the way he held me. The contradiction was enough to put me on edge about the question. I stopped to consider it seriously, the sounds of nearby people rushing back to me, assaulting me with our own stupidity. Quillan had me pinned me up against the car, and we were surrounded by Zevs. But then again… his car was hiding us on one side, with the scattering of pine trees that edged the parking lot shielding our other side. Quillan also had his face lowered, his expression hidden.
“Maybe I’m straining,” I replied carefully. It tasted like a lie, and that confused me even more.
I started to tell myself that I had never felt that way about Quillan, but my mind spluttered around the thought and pulled up short, not allowing it any traction. I had idolised Quillan right from the start; I had craved his attention, his approval, his voice and his heavy eyes… and now I craved his touch .
No . No. That wasn’t possible. Things couldn’t just change like that.
My breath halted, and I grew very still. I didn’t even dare to blink my eyes or taste any oxygen. The itching feeling and the blackouts had completely disappeared, leaving behind the strange yearning that assaulted me whenever Silas touched me.
I didn’t know how to deal with it.
I couldn’t believe it was happening.
“I don’t think you are,” Quillan countered softly, interrupting my thoughts. “You haven’t strained in months.”
“It’s overdue, then.” I laughed, but it was an uncertain laugh, fraught with nervous indecision.
“I know.” He shifted a little bit, his fingers tightening fractionally in their hold. “But you’re still not straining. You get this vacant, panicked look in your eyes when you are. I’ve been doing some research, trying to figure out why it might have gone away… but there isn’t any information out there about bonding with two different pairs, and I can’t exactly ask the Klovoda…”
I noticed movement in the trees, distracting me from what he was saying. I pushed against Quillan’s chest, remembering my two bodyguards, and he backed away instantly, walking around to the other side of the car as though nothing at all had happened. He got in and started the car, but I stared into the trees a moment longer before pulling the door open. I was about to climb inside when I saw it again: a person was moving between the trees. A man: hood pulled up over his head, his broad back presented as he strode away. My heart lurched in my throat, and a strangled sound escaped… but it was impossible.
Silas couldn’t be here.
“Seph?” Quillan asked. “What is it?”
I slammed the door and ran into the trees, forgetting my bodyguards, forgetting the messenger, forgetting everything but the hope that threatened to strangle me. The hooded man disappeared as quickly as he had appeared and I paused at the spot where I thought I had seen him last, turning in a circle. There was a cell phone taped to a tree, right in front of my face. When I switched my gaze to the side of the tree, I had a perfect view of the side of Quillan’s car—right where we had been. I ripped the phone free just as Quillan reached me. I showed him the phone and explained what I had seen; but our search of the surrounding trees revealed nothing. The man was nowhere to be found.
“Let’s go,” I finally said, trudging back to the car.
I waited until we were on the road before I turned the phone on, which caused Quillan to sigh in an exasperated way beside me.
“I told you to wait until we got back to the house.”
“I’ll start obeying you like a