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I didn’t answer.

I found myself remembering the ship. Vancouver. Seattle. I didn’t let myself think about why I’d been reminded of that, but the memory still bugged me. Or maybe I was just pissed off at how little he told me last night.

About Dalejem.

That time, he winced. Letting out a thick exhale, he raised himself up on his arms. I tried to pull back my light, but I couldn’t. His frustration wound into my own, until I let out an angry sound. If he hadn’t been pinning me to the mattress, I might have hit him.

His gaze narrowed.

I felt pain there, rising in his light. Most of it still felt like separation pain, but looking at his eyes, I couldn’t be sure what he was thinking.

Which of course only made my anger worse.

“You want to hurt me?” he asked.

I thought about his words. Fighting to pull back my light, I shook my head. “No.”

He laughed. “Bullshit.”

“Everyone has thoughts like that.” My voice stayed hard, not even a little bit apologetic. “I don’t really want to hurt you. But yeah, I thought it.”

“But why? Why do you want to hurt me, love? Are you really angry at me? For leaving you in here? Or is it Dalejem? What were you were thinking just now? About Seattle?”

I shook my head.

“Are you really angry about the Cass thing?” he asked.

I felt my jaw harden more.

He didn’t deny it, I noticed.

He let out another humorless laugh. “I didn’t? I’m pretty sure I did.” He pressed his body into mine and I closed my eyes, letting out an involuntary sound. “You want to fuck,” he observed. “Your light is pulling on me like crazy. So what is this? You want to fuck angry? You want to hurt me first? Because I’ll let you. You know I will.”

I looked up at him, frowning.

I honestly couldn’t tell how serious he was.

Was I angry? Was I really angry? Or just frustrated with him and his damned silences? Was I tired of this dance between us, where he was still angry at me for leaving him and dying and working behind his back, and wouldn’t admit it? Was I still mad at him about Seattle? Or did something about the whole mess of things between us just feel like hypocrisy? Like some kind of twisted double standard?

I mean… Jesus fuck. I’d forgiven him for so many damned things.

So many things.

I didn’t stop opening to him because of those things.

But when it came to Revik and things he feltI’ddone to him––

I felt him about to speak and cut him off.

“What did I say in my sleep last night?” I asked. “About Dubai?”

He shook his head, smiling as he clicked at me. “You want to talk shop right now? Really, wife? When I’ve got my cock pressed against you?”

The pain in my light worsened.

He watched my face. His hand slid between my legs, his fingers still gripping my unchained arm. Slow, painfully slow, he began exploring me with light-filled fingers, caressing me so precisely I bit my tongue until I tasted blood. Within a few more seconds, I’d forgotten all about Dubai and shop talk and being angry at him for not trusting me. I’d forgotten about him not opening to me, and him not telling me anything about that seer, Dalejem.

A few seconds later, he coaxed me to talk to him.