Chapter Seven: Close Quarters
715 Words
Freya tried to convince herself that Lyon was just a city. That it had nothing to do with him, with the bond, with the ache that refused to leave her chest.
The hotel lobby buzzed with people rushing to check out or grab coffee. She walked beside Zev, keeping her head down, pretending the heat in her cheeks was from the cold. His presence was constant, controlled, measured. Every step beside him made her body hum with awareness she could not escape.
You are unusually tense, he said casually.
I am not, she replied too sharply.
He glanced at her side profile, eyebrows raised. Your body disagrees.
She swallowed hard. It did. Every nerve screamed his name, every pulse betrayed her denial. She clenched her fists at her sides, willing herself to stay composed.
They rode the elevator up to the conference area together. Freya kept her back rigid, arms crossed, staring at the polished floor. The pull between them was subtle but unrelenting. It wrapped around her, claimed her attention, tugged at her desire.
Do you always resist this much, he asked quietly.
What do you mean, she said, not looking at him.
Every instinct in you, every hesitation, every sharp intake of breath when I am near. Resistance is fascinating.
Her pulse quickened. Fascinating did not feel flattering.
It is not meant to be flattering. It is a fact.
She paused, looking out the glass windows at the winter city below. Snow drifted lightly over rooftops. People rushed along streets, bundled against the cold. And here they were, two humans in close proximity, yet something much older, stronger, and wilder pulled at them both.
The conference hall was crowded with professionals. Zev led the way with quiet authority. She followed, aware of the subtle difference in how he moved, how others instinctively gave him space, how he carried presence without arrogance.
Her body reacted instantly. Every glance from him, every small movement, drew heat to her skin she did not want to admit.
Stop thinking about that, she muttered under her breath.
Do not resist me, he whispered near her ear.
Her head snapped toward him, eyes wide.
I said do not, she hissed, stepping back slightly.
He smirked faintly, not in mockery, but in acknowledgment. I am not touching you. Not yet.
Her breath caught anyway.
Throughout the day, every interaction forced proximity. Shared elevators, narrow hallways, passing through conference rooms with bodies pressing close. Every accidental brush of his hand sent shivers through her, every glance carried weight that made her stomach twist.
During lunch, they found a quiet corner. Zev ordered their meals while keeping an eye on her.
You know, she said finally, this is exhausting.
Yes, he replied. It will be until you accept the bond.
She laughed bitterly. Accept the bond. Like it is a choice.
It is a choice, he said. The pull is not.
Her gaze narrowed. And you expect me to ignore it.
Not ignore, he corrected. Respect it. You will learn when you are ready.
The day blurred, filled with meetings, polite conversations, and relentless awareness of him. By evening, Freya felt every muscle taut with suppressed longing. She excused herself to the hotel room, closing the door behind her, only to hear a soft knock almost immediately.
It was him.
I thought you might need company, he said.
She crossed her arms. I do not.
You do. I can feel it.
The truth hung between them. She could not deny it, not fully, not without trembling at the sensation of him beyond the wall, a presence she could not ignore.
She stepped aside, letting him in without invitation.
The room was warm, scented faintly of cedar and cold air. They stood across from each other, aware, alert, every inch of space charged with something neither wanted to name.
He took a careful step closer. I will not move unless you tell me.
Her pulse thundered. Then the words slipped out without thought. Move.
His eyes darkened. Slowly, deliberately, he closed the distance, hands at her sides, stopping just short of contact. Their breaths mingled, tension threading every second.
The bond hummed between them, alive, claiming. Desire had no patience.
And for the first time since Lyon, Freya did not try to resist.
- Writer
