ISLA
I spent the night in my own suite.
Not because Gideon had asked me to. Not because of an argument or a decision.
I had just… walked there after Dorian left, and closed the door, and stood in the middle of the room for a while looking at the books in different languages and the photo of my parents and the wardrobe where the bag lived on the top shelf.
All of the things that grounded me, but even then they hadn't done what they were supposed to.
The bond, though, had been quiet all evening. He hadn’t pushed. Hadn’t knocked. Had simply been there, at the edge of my awareness, warm and present and not demanding anything.
I didn’t know if that made it better or worse.
I sat on the edge of the bed and thought about the night before. His hands. His voice. His touch. The specific qua
