Page 28 of The First Child
“With you? It doesn’t feel like an invasion. More like…” I search for words to describe something I’ve never experienced before. “Like having a conversation partner who speaks the same language. Even when we’re not talking, we still communicate.”
His markings shift to warm amber. “That’s remarkably accurate. Empathic bonding creates a form of connection that transcends verbal communication.”
“So, we’re bonded? Officially?”
“The parameters are still developing. But yes, I believe we’ve formed something permanent.” He pauses, studying my face carefully. “Does that concern you?”
“Should it?”
“Most humans find the prospect of permanent telepathic connection overwhelming. The loss of mental privacy, the constant awareness of another consciousness, the way emotions become shared rather than individual experiences.”
I consider this while sipping coffee that’s somehow perfect despite being prepared by someone whose species doesn’t naturally consume caffeine. The idea of sharing headspace with Sylas indefinitely should be claustrophobic. Instead, it feels like the most natural thing in the universe.
“I like having you in my head,” I admit. “It’s like being less alone without having to explain why I need company.”
“That’s…” He goes very still, his expression shifting to something I can’t quite interpret. “That’s exactly how it feels for me as well.”
“Good. Then we’re on the same page about empathic bonding.” I set down my cup and lean forward slightly, noting how his attention sharpens at the movement. “Now can we talk about the other kind of bonding we’ve avoided for three days?”
Color rises in his pale cheeks. “I haven’t been avoiding?—”
“You’ve tiptoed around me like I might explode if you get too close. Yesterday you practically launched yourself across the room to avoid accidentally brushing my hand when we both reached for Aniska’s toys.”
“That was… an abundance of caution.”
“That wasridiculous.” I stand, noting how his pupils dilate slightly as I move closer to his chair. “We’re attracted to each other. We’ve established that. We’ve agreed to explore it. So why are we acting like teenagers afraid to hold hands?”
“Because the situation is complex?—”
“Everything worthwhile is complex.” I stop directly in front of him, close enough that he has to tip his head back to maintain eye contact. “But complexity doesn’t mean we have to make this harder than it needs to be.”
“Hada.” My name emerges as something between warning and plea. “If we pursue this, it will change everything.”
“Good. I want everything to change.” I reach out to trace the bioluminescent patterns that mark his temple, feeling the electric warmth that generates wherever we make contact. “I want us to stop pretending we don’t care about each other. I want to stop analyzing every gesture and second-guessing every impulse. I want to find out what we could be if we stop being afraid of what we might lose.”
His eyes close at the contact, and through our empathic connection, I feel his carefully maintained control beginning to fracture. “The risks?—”
“Are outweighed by the potential benefits. We’ve been over this.” I trace the curve of his jaw, marveling at the way his markings pulse in response to my touch. “Unless you’ve changed your mind about wanting me?”
“No.” The word emerges with enough force to make his chair resonate with harmonic feedback. “I haven’t changed my mind about anything.”
“Then stop overthinking and kiss me.”
For a moment, he remains perfectly still, and I wonder if I’ve pushed too hard, demanding too much too quickly. Then his hands settle on my waist and he pulls me down onto his lap with the kind of decisive action that makes my breath catch and my pulse spike with anticipation.
“You’re certain about this?” he asks, his voice rough with barely controlled desire.
“I’m certain about you.”
That’s apparently all the permission he needs. His mouth finds mine with hunger that matches my own, all careful restraintforgotten in favor of the connection we’ve both craved. I lose myself in the taste of him, in the way he responds when I deepen the kiss with desire I’m no longer interested in hiding.
His hands slide up my back, pulling me closer, and I make a soft sound of approval that reverberates through us like a struck crystal. Every sensation is amplified by the telepathic bond—not just what I feel, but his responses as well, creating feedback loops that make ordinary physical contact feel like something approaching transcendence.
“This is…” he breathes against my lips.
“Intense,” I finish, because the empathic sharing is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. It’s not just kissing Sylas—it’s feeling what he feels while he kisses me, experiencing my own responses through his perception, creating a circuit of sensation that threatens to overwhelm every coherent thought.
“Is it too much?”
