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“I’m trying, Theon,” she said, so quietly he barely heard it.

“Are you? Because it shouldn’t be this hard to give into a bond. Once you do, things can be different. This would have never happened,” he replied, dunking the cloth and guiding her forward so he could run it down her back. He slid her long hair over one shoulder.

“How do you figure that?”

“You would have been with me. I wanted to wait until you’d adjusted and accepted the bond before requiring you to attend meetings with me, but it appears that can no longer be the case.”

“Maybe if you would tell me things instead of keeping me in the dark about everything, I’d be more prepared for these types of situations.”

“I want to tell you things, Tessa, but I can’t. Not until the bond is fully in place. I need to know I can trust you.”

“The bond does not equate to trust, Theon,” she replied, then she slid under the water once more.

Theon could hardly see her beneath the bubbles. He waited until she resurfaced, and as she pushed her hair off her face again, Theon said, “Can I ask you a question?”

“You are the Master,” she answered dryly, taking the cloth from him and beginning to scrub at her legs.

“What does the bond feel like to you?”

She paused. “What?”

“I’m trying to understand. Because if it feels anything to you like it does to me, I cannot for the life of me figure out how you are resisting the thing.”

Tessa resumed the scrubbing of her legs, and it took a moment before she said, “It feels like an ache in the pit of my stomach when I am away from you. It is a constant buzzing, like an itch that won’t go away. If it goes on too long, I feel like vomiting. When I actively resist and pull away from you, the bond punishes me for it.”

“And when you let me touch you?” he pressed.

She wouldn’t look at him, but she’d stopped washing. “I’m ready to get out,” she said suddenly, setting the cloth along the edge of the tub.

“I will get you a towel in a moment,” Theon said. “Answer me first. What does the bond feel like when you let me touch you?”

She swallowed audibly, but she didn’t offer anything else. He wasn’t letting this go that easily though. He wanted an answer to this one question, and he was prepared to draw it from her lips if needed. Before he could entrance her though, she tossed a question back at him.

“Did you send them to collect me like they said you did?”

“No, Tessa. I would have called Axel if I had wanted you brought to me.”

“They said…” She pursed her lips, drawing her knees up to her chest, and Theon’s gaze snagged on more bare skin.

“What did they say, Tessa?”

“They said that your father had given them permission to make sure my manners had been corrected, and then when they couldn’t find me, they said he was going to be upset they had lost me. What does your father want with me, Theon? Is he the reason you chose me to be your Source?”

She finally met his gaze, and her eyes were filled with a desperation to understand.

“No, Tessa, my father did not decide you were to be my Source. The relationship between a Master and Source is too fragile for anyone else to choose it for someone,” he replied.

“You chose it for me,” she countered.

“I meant it is too important for another Legacy to choose someone’s Source for them,” he amended.

“Then why did you choose me? We’d never met before. You’d never visited the Estate. Why did you pick me out of the hundreds of eligible Fae at Selection?”

Her voice was strained with that same desperation he could see in her eyes, but Theon didn’t have a suitable answer for her. He wished he could explain it, but the truth was he couldn’t adequately describe it himself. Finally, he said, “When I spoke with you in that alcove, I wanted you and only you.”

She pressed her lips together at the answer, and he wasn’t sure what that meant. He expected her to ask another question about it, but she said, “Can I get out now?”

Fully aware she hadn’t answered his own question, he stood and grabbed two towels from beneath the sink. Returning to the side of the tub, he said, “Up.”