Page 44 of Unbearable Attraction
"Those sound like adjustment problems, not fundamental incompatibilities."
"What if they're not? What if this is just the beginning and it gets worse?" Leenah gestured at the business cards. "What if I take this job and discover that distance makes the bond unbearable? Or what if I stay and we end up resenting each other for the compromises?"
"What if you stop borrowing trouble and deal with what's actually happening instead of what might happen?" Twyla's voice carried the no-nonsense tone she used with customers who couldn't decide on their orders. "I think you're using external opportunities to avoid internal decisions. The delegation didn't create your doubts about the bond—they just gave you an excuse to examine them."
"So what am I supposed to do?"
"Figure out what you actually want. Not what you think you should want, not what's practical or safe, but what would make you happy." Twyla stood, brushing crumbs from her apron. "The rest is just details."
After she left, Leenah sat surrounded by business cards and the lingering scent of cinnamon, trying to separate her emotions from Luka's through their shared connection.
She could feel his love, his determination to make their partnership work, his certainty they were stronger together. But she could also sense his understanding that the choice had to be hers, that pushing would damage the trust they'd built.
The delegation's offer represented everything she'd thought she wanted—recognition, independence, the chance to help on a larger scale. But sitting there feeling Luka's quiet confidence pulse through their link, she realized what she'd called independence might have been loneliness disguised as strength.
The question wasn't whether she was strong enough to handle their bond's complications. It was whether she was brave enough to choose connection over the safety of being alone.
29
LUKA
Word traveled fast in supernatural circles. By the end of the week, Leenah had received three more requests for her necromantic services, two interview requests from magical newsletters, and an invitation to speak at a conference on supernatural crisis resolution. Watching her handle the attention with professional grace filled Luka with pride, but his bear paced restlessly at the growing demands on her time and energy.
"You don't have to accept every request," he said, finding her at her kitchen table surrounded by correspondence and looking slightly overwhelmed.
"I know." She looked up from a letter bearing the seal of the Virginia Supernatural Council. "But some of these problems sound urgent. People are hurting, and if I can help..."
"You can't save everyone."
"Maybe not. But I can try to save some." Her blue eyes held the kind of determined compassion that had drawn him to her in the first place. "Besides, the shared bond means I'm not risking my life force the way I used to. I can handle more than before."
The practical argument was sound, but it didn't ease the worry gnawing at him. Through their connection, he could feel her excitement about the recognition her abilities were receiving, but also the weight of expectations from communities who saw her as their only hope for spiritual resolution.
"Come to the workshop with me," he said impulsively. "Take a break from being everyone's savior for a few hours."
"I should really?—"
"The letters will still be there later. But right now, you need space to breathe."
She studied his face, and he felt her reading his emotions through their bond—concern mixed with the simple desire to spend time together without supernatural crises or political complications interfering.
"Okay," she said finally. "But only for a couple hours."
His workshop felt different with her there, more complete somehow. She settled into the old armchair he'd placed near his workbench, legs tucked under her as she watched him work on a jewelry box commissioned by one of the local witches. The piece was nearly finished, its surface smooth and ready for the delicate inlay work that would complete the design.
"What kind of wood is that?" she asked.
"Cherry, with walnut accents. The client wanted something that would protect her magical components from outside influence." He ran his fingers along the grain, feeling for imperfections. "Though honestly, the wood's doing most of the work itself. Old trees hold their own kind of magic."
"Show me."
He glanced up, surprised. "Show you what?"
"How you work with the wood's natural magic. I've watched you carve, but I've never seen the magical side of what you do."
Luka set down his tools and moved to a piece of oak he'd been seasoning for months. "It's not flashy. Nothing like spirit communication or protective ward casting."
"I don't need flashy. I want to understand."
