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I expected to have nightmares. This should have been the point where a demonic Rick reared his indefatigable head and punished me over and over again. Instead, I felt like I drowned in honey.

Whereas sleep before had felt a bit like being smothered by smoke, this felt like being buoyed by a velvety cloud.

I felt airy and weightless, transmuted from heavy flesh to shimmering veils of pleasure.

It wasn’t sexual precisely. I didn’t have a body, so to imagine ways it could intersect with another’s was irrelevant.

Rather, I was sensation, a lovely, breathtaking pleasure that almost ached in its intensity.

It had a strange timeless quality, which didn’t contain the frantic tides of arousal.

I was just lulled, held within its grip, until my eyes decided to open.

He was watching me when I woke, something that should have creeped me out but didn’t.

He could have done what he liked while I slept—I wouldn’t have known—but his hand just remained on me over my clothes, on the small of my back now as I had rolled into him and burrowed down into his chest, my head resting on his arm. When I looked up blearily, he smiled.

“How long was I out for?” I asked.

“ The Phantom Menace is over, and now they’re into Attack of the Clones .”

“God, that long? It didn’t feel like it.”

“I know.” I frowned at that. “The bond goes both ways. I don’t know what you’re thinking or anything, but I can feel it.”

My mouth went dry, and I rolled onto my back, staring into his eyes. He smiled slightly, as if hoping I’d do the same, and I wanted to, I felt that tug. But what I’d experienced felt intensely personal.

“It’s OK. You just felt happy, really happy for a while. It was nice, and I was bloody glad I could do that for you.” I felt his hand moving in gentle circles, my attention yanked to the wavering warmth it generated.

“Are you…distracting me?”

His grin was bright, then gone again a moment later.

“Ophelia said you would struggle with this. That taking a mate bond was hard for people born outside Sanctuary.” His eyes dropped down to where his hand rested.

“I just wanted you to know how it feels. The minute you came to me, when you…” His breath stopped for a moment, and I watched that muscular throat swallow.

“Taking your bite was the most fucking intense thing I’ve ever been through.

It made everything that came before it fade into the background.

” I almost flinched at what simmered in his gaze when he looked up at me.

“You’re not there yet, you might not ever, but, Flick…

” His eyes dropped to my lips and stayed there.

“If you do, I’ll be right there waiting for anything you choose to share with me. Now, you must be starving.”

As if on cue, my stomach grumbled, and he smiled.

He went to pull away, to take away that lovely warm pain free feeling, but my hand slapped down over his without thinking.

It pressed his hand harder against me, then up, under the short hem of the scrubs.

His eyes widened when his fingertips grazed my bare skin, when I moved it up under my shirt a few inches.

He was going to say my name, break the spell, but I shook my head, then closed my eyes as I felt whatever this bond did flare hard.

I was throwing myself headfirst into that which felt good, I knew that.

Much easier than dealing with what had happened, what I needed to face.

But I could be excused, just this minute, couldn’t I?

I hurt so fucking much, the sound of the ashtray cracking into Rick’s head filling my mind with little effort.

So it was understandable, to rub this strange, beautiful man’s hand over my stomach, to twist under him oh so slightly as his touch burned through me.

“Flick…”

His voice was a low growl, of admonition and desire all torn up together, and I wanted it. He was mine, this was right, if I just pushed his hand…

Wait, what?

I heard my Tirian’s growl of frustration inside my head.

You can’t fucking force this , I snapped at her.

I force nothing. You want him, want to see his strong body, push down his pants and…

Not yet , I said, pulling my hand away. I’m not ready.

Then soon.