His hand was still in my hair. His thumb moved once against my temple.
“I passed every corridor you were in,” he confessed. “Every room. I felt you through the bond every hour of every day and I could not–” He stopped. Something working in his jaw. “I have negotiated with enemies and held Pack territories under siege and sat in rooms with men who wanted me dead and not once lost my footing.”
I waited.
“This nearly broke me,” he said simply. “I want you to know that.”
The honesty of it – unperformed, unmanaged, just handed to me flat – hit harder than anything elaborate could have.
“I know,” I said softly. “I felt it.”
He looked at me.
“Through the bond?”
“Through the bond,” I confirmed. “Day five. The east staircase. I felt what it cost you to keep walking.”
Something shifted in
