Page 19 of Echoes From the Void

Instead of answering, I let my fangs descend fully, enjoying how his pupils dilate. His shadows surge in response, wrapping around us both in a cocoon of familiar darkness shot through with his unique golden light.

“Show off,” I murmur against his lips.

“You love it.”

I do. Have since we were fourteen and he was the only one who saw past my careful control to the predator underneath. The only one who wasn’t afraid.

His shadows slide under my shirt, tracing patterns we learned in stolen moments between practice and study sessions. My fangs graze his shoulder in response, drawing a sound that makes my own shadows flare.

“The pack’s going to feel this,” he warns, even as his power tangles deeper with mine.

“Let them.”

His laugh turns into a gasp as my fangs find a sensitive spot. “So much for your famous control.”

“Maybe I’m tired of controlling everything.” The admission comes easier in the dark, wrapped in our merged shadows. “Maybe I want them to know what you mean to me. What you’ve always meant.”

Leo’s twilight energy pulses with emotion. Through the potential pack bond, I feel the others stirring—Frankie’s curiosity, Bishop’s knowing amusement, Dorian’s feigned disinterest.

“About time,” Leo says softly. “You know that’s part of why I pursued the others? I saw how they looked at you, how they could accept all of you, just like I do.”

My shadows tighten around him possessively. “You pursued them because you’re a shameless flirt.”

“That too.” He grins against my neck. “But mainly because I wanted you to have what I’ve always seen—a family that understands both sides of you. The healer and the warrior.”

Through the window’s reflection, I watch our shadows dance together—his edged with light, mine now marked by these new changes. Different kinds of evolution, but still perfectly matched.

“I love you,” I say in Hindi, the language of my deepest truths. “Have since we were kids.”

His shadows wrap around me like an embrace. “I know. Why do you think I learned Hindi?”

The admission hits me hard. All those years of him casually dropping Hindi phrases, I thought he was just being Leo—friendly, curious, wanting to connect with my mother. But this...

“You impossible man,” I growl in Hindi, the language I taught him late at night when homesickness hit hardest.

“Your impossible man,” he corrects. “Always have been.”

His hands find my face, thumbs tracing where jaw meets throat. “You know what I love most about these new fangs?”

“Hmm?”

“They’re proof you’re finally embracing who you are.” His twilight shadows emphasize the words, wrapping around my new features. “No more hiding. No more pretending to be just the good doctor’s son.”

I press him harder against the glass. “I seem to recall you appreciating the good doctor’s son quite thoroughly behind the rugby field.”

“Different kind of appreciation.” His laugh catches as my fangs find his pulse again. “Though that was pretty great too.”

Through our amplified connection, memories flow between us—rushed touches between classes, long nights studying that turned into something else, years of wanting and having but never quite admitting what it meant. My shadows chase his twilight energy across our skin, leaving marks that fade too quickly.

“They’ll stay soon,” Leo murmurs, reading my intent. “Once Frankie seals the bonds.”

“Impatient?”

“Says the man who just grew fangs from sheer protective instinct.”

He has a point. Everything is changing—my body, our bonds, the very balance of the realms. But this, us, remains constant. Evolving but unshakeable.

“I can feel you thinking again,” he says softly. His shadows tangle with mine, creating patterns like dawn breaking through storm clouds. “Stop it.”

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