Page 29 of The First Child
“No.” I frame his face with both hands, studying the way his pupils dilate and his markings pulse with increasingly complex patterns. “It’s perfect.”
He kisses me again, deeper this time, with the kind of focused intensity that suggests he’s done fighting his own desires. I feel his mental barriers dissolving through our connection, replaced by raw emotion that makes my chest tight with feelings I don’t have words for.
This is what I’ve been missing without knowing it existed. Not just physical attraction, but true partnership—consciousness that complement each other, minds that work in harmony even when our approaches to life seem fundamentally different. Therecognition that I’m not just falling for a beautiful, complicated man, but finding the other half of myself in the process.
“Hada.” My name sounds different in his voice now, carrying depth of emotion that makes me understand why Zephyrian bonding is considered sacred. “I need you to know?—”
“That you love me?” The words slip out before I can examine their implications, but I don’t take them back. Because that’s what this is, isn’t it? Not just attraction or compatibility or convenient partnership, but love in the truest sense—the kind that changes everything about how you see the world.
His eyes widen with surprise that quickly transforms into something that looks remarkably like relief. “Yes.”
“Good. Because I love you, too.”
The admission hangs between us for a moment, weighted with the significance of emotions we’ve both been afraid to acknowledge. He kisses me again with renewed intensity, and through our empathic connection, I feel his response to my declaration—wonder and gratitude and something that feels like coming home.
A soft sound from across the room reminds us that we’re not alone. Aniska watches our interaction with the focused attention of someone who finds adult behavior endlessly fascinating, her empathic field radiating contentment so pure it brings tears to my eyes.
“She’s happy,” I observe unnecessarily.
“She’s waited for this. For us to acknowledge what’s been building between us.” Sylas’s arms tighten around me, and I feel his reluctance to break the physical connection we’ve finallyallowed ourselves. “Empathic children respond to emotional honesty. Our attempts to suppress attraction were probably more distressing for her than open affection would be.”
“So, we’ve made this harder for everyone by trying to maintain boundaries that don’t actually exist.”
“Essentially, yes.”
I can’t help laughing at the absurdity of it. “We’re terrible at this.”
“At what?”
“Romance. Relationship development. Figuring out how to be partners in every sense of the word.” I lean back to study his face, noting the way humor and affection combine in his expression. “Good thing we have the rest of our lives to practice.”
“The rest of our lives.” He repeats the phrase like he’s testing its weight. “You’re assuming this connection is permanent.”
“I hope it is.” The honesty makes me vulnerable in ways that military training never prepared me for, but Sylas deserves nothing less than complete truth. “I know it’s fast, I know we’re still learning how to navigate this partnership, but what I feel for you isn’t going anywhere. If anything, it’s getting stronger.”
“For me as well.” His markings pulse with patterns I recognize as contentment mixed with something deeper. “The empathic bond we’ve formed isn’t temporary, Hada. Neither are the feelings that created it.”
“So, we’re stuck with each other.”
“Irrevocably.”
“Good.” I lean down to kiss him again, soft and quick and full of promise. “Because I can’t imagine wanting to be anywhere else.”
The afternoon dissolves into exploration of boundaries we’ve spent three days avoiding—not just physical attraction, though that’s certainly present, but the kind of emotional intimacy that comes from sharing consciousness with someone who understands you at levels deeper than conscious thought.
We talk about everything and nothing, our conversation punctuated by kisses that grow increasingly heated as inhibitions dissolve. I learn that Sylas makes soft sounds of pleasure when I trace his bioluminescent markings, that his mental discipline extends to maintaining just enough control to keep our interaction appropriate despite Aniska’s presence.
I discover that empathic bonding means experiencing his reactions to my touch as clearly as my own responses, creating feedback loops that make ordinary affection feel like something approaching religious experience. Every sensation is amplified, every emotion shared, every moment of connection deepened by the telepathic link that binds our consciousness together.
“This is going to complicate things,” I murmur against his neck, noting how his pulse jumps at the contact.
“Everything worthwhile is complicated.”
“Are you throwing my own words back at me?”
“I agree with your assessment while pointing out the inherent contradiction in your concern.” His hands slide up my back, and I feel his restraint beginning to fracture as desire builds through our shared connection. “Besides, complications can be… interesting.”
“Interesting?”
