Page 18 of Omega's Fire

“We’ve been subjected to a minimum two-week co-habitation order.”

We. As if it’s something we’re in together instead of something he is subjecting me to.

“And then what?”

“And then once we’ve bonded, we have the ceremony.”

“And if I still refuse?”

“Then you get to walk away,” he says, but it’s clear by his tone that he doesn’t believe it’s going to happen. He thinks I’m going to give in.

Thorndike watches me for a long moment, something unreadable shifting in his eyes. I see the moment he decides not to argue on that point and he changes tack. “Our match is valid, Leo. But I don’t—” He stops, seems to reconsider his words. “I don’t want this to be more unpleasant than necessary.”

“How generous of you.”

I push past him, back into the main living area. The beautiful, open space suddenly feels suffocating. I move to the large windows overlooking the lake, pressing a palm against the cool glass. The security perimeter shimmers in the distance, nearly invisible but undeniably present. Beyond it, mountains rise in jagged silhouette against a ridiculously blue sky.

“There’s food if you’re hungry,” Thorndike offers from behind me, voice careful, controlled. “The Bureau stocks the kitchens well and I’ve brought some delicacies that I think you might like.”

I don’t turn. “I’m not hungry.”

“You should eat something. It’s been a long morning.”

“Don’t tell me what I should do.” My reflection glares back at me, hollow-eyed and tense. “You’ve taken enough from me already.”

A beat of silence. Then: “I understand you’re angry.”

“You understand nothing.” I finally turn, meeting Thorndike’s gaze directly.

Thorndike doesn’t flinch, but something flickers across his face—discomfort, perhaps, or genuine regret. It doesn’t matter. I’m not interested in his feelings.

“I know this is hard,” Thorndike says after a moment, “butPrime Matches like ours are incredibly rare. The compatibility between us—”

“Is meaningless.” I cut him off.

The words hang between us. Thorndike doesn’t argue further, just stands there looking at me with that maddeningly composed expression, like he’s studying a particularly interesting research subject.

“I’ll make up the couch,” he says finally.

I laugh, sharp and bitter. “Don’t bother. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“That’s unnecessary.”

“No, what’s unnecessary is all of this.” I gesture broadly at the cottage, the cushions and pillows, the lake, the entire manufactured romantic setting. “But here we are.”

Thorndike’s jaw tightens slightly—the first real crack in his composure. “The bedroom is yours. I’ll take the couch.”

“How chivalrous.” I don’t try to hide my derision. “I’ll still sleep on the floor.”

I stride to the coat closet near the front door, yanking it open to find even more spare blankets and pillows, just as I expected. The Bureau thinks of everything when designing these little love nests. I grab a blanket and a pillow, then walk back to the living room and deliberately drop them onto the hardwood floor in the furthest corner from where Thorndike stands.

“Leo.” Thorndike’s voice has softened, almost to gentleness. “This doesn’t have to be a battle.”

“Everything about this is a battle.” I sit on the blanket, facing the wall so I don’t have to look at his gorgeous smug face. “You just don’t see it because you’re on the winning side.”

Thorndike makes a sound, as if he’s about to say something but changes his mind at the last moment. Good. I want him off-balance. I want him to feel even a fraction of the helplessness I experienced being hauled away from my life.

“I’ll give you space,” Thorndike says finally. “There’s food when you want it.”

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