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"I'm observing."

"That's counting with better vocabulary."

A broken sound—almost a laugh—leaves him, and I lean down until our foreheads touch. "Be here. Just here."

His fingers slide along my back, pulling me flush against him. "I am here."

Conversation dies. The pace builds, losing its restraint as the bond tightens. His hands guide me, his touch a mixture of strength and desperation. His bad leg starts to stiffen under me, and I feel the flicker of discomfort through the bond before he even realizes it.

"Leg," I murmur.

"I know."

I shift my weight, easing the angle, and I feel the tension drain out of him instantly.

"You felt that," he says, his voice thick.

"Everything, apparently."

"Useful."

"Do not turn this into diagnostics."

"I was going to say efficient."

"That's worse."

Then his hand catches the back of my neck and pulls me down into a kiss that tastes of salt and hunger. We change positions, turning carefully until my back is against the coat and the slate wall. He braces himself over me, his muscles corded and shaking. Even now, his eyes flick to the bandage on my head.

"I'm fine," I gasp.

"I did not ask."

"You were about to."

"Probably."

I reach up and touch his face, the markings at his temple blazing. "Darius."

He looks down at me, and for one second, the one-in-five survival chance sits between us. I hate it. I know he is calculating the cost of failure—what it would mean for him to fail to get me back through that door.

I take his face in both hands, pulling him down. "Don't leave before we leave."

Something in him breaks. The bond takes the impact—a wave of grief, love, and fierce relief that rolls through me. Darius lowers his forehead to mine, breathing hard.

"I love you," he says. Not a ceremony. Not a translation. Just the raw, terrifying truth.

"I love you too."

Then he moves with me.

The rhythm is slow at first, because the sensation is too much to handle at speed. Every inch of skin, every breath, every pulse of the bond is magnified. I keep one hand at the back of his neck and the other on the markings. They are scorching now.

I press harder against the brightest line, and Darius lets out a low, involuntary moan. Satisfaction flashes through me, and Jalshagar immediately feeds it back into him, amplifying the pleasure.

"You enjoy that," he rasps, his eyes narrowing.

"Very much."