Page 33 of Rainse
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. After they'd forced my brother and his mate to stay apart for many sunpasses, they were offering me the opposite? It didn't make sense. Not that I was about to complain.
"It is the woman's decision. If - what is her name?"
"Verity," I said quickly.
"If Verity explicitly says that this is her choice, that she was not coerced or forced in any way, then we can house the two of you in the same building. Maybe not the same room quite yet, however. Baby steps. And if she wants to submit a sample, I'll fast-track it through the lab. Trust me, I'm as curious as you are to find out if you accidentally found your mate. I mean, what are the chances? It is fascinating. Almost makes you believe in fate..."
As soon as the call ended, I was out of the room, leaving Fionn to deal with the practicalities. I had to see her. Fionn shouted after me, but I ignored him.
The moment I stepped outside, the bond flared — clear, strong, alive. She was close. Not afraid, not angry. Just restless. Like the ocean before a change in tide.
I followed the pull through the palm-lined paths, past the soft hum of the resort. The air was heavy with heat and the scent of salt and sweet alien flowers, the kind of afternoon that promised rain but hadn’t decided when.
And then I saw her.
Verity stood at the water’s edge, the sunlight catching her hair, turning it to copper fire. She turned before I spoke, as though she’d felt me coming — maybe she had. I hoped so. It meant she felt the bond the same way I did.
“I thought you’d be in trouble,” she said, shading her eyes against the glare. "I expected someone to come and tell me that I couldn't see you for a while."
“I was suitably admonished,” I admitted. “Pam said I’m officially on her list.”
“That doesn’t sound good.”
“She has many lists.” I smiled. “I think this one’s called ‘Finmen Who Give Me Grey Hairs.’”
That made her laugh — soft, real, the kind of sound I’d been chasing since I first pulled her from the sea.
I stopped a few paces away. “She said something else, though. Something I didn’t expect.”
“Oh?”
“She’s willing to let us stay near each other. As long as you agree to it. Your choice.”
Verity blinked, clearly taken aback. “She… actually said that?”
“She did.”
Her gaze flicked over my face, as if looking for the trick. Finding none, her shoulders eased. “That’s… surprisingly reasonable.”
I took a step closer, careful not to crowd her. The sun was warm on our skin, the sea whispering against the sand. “I told her what I know. That you’re my mate.”
Her lips parted slightly. “You’re very sure of that.”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything.”
A pause — long enough for a gull to cry overhead, long enough for the air between us to shift.
“When I’m near you,” she said quietly, “everything feels… quieter. Easier.”
“That’s what the bond does,” I said. “But it’s also what you do.”
Her laugh came out breathless. “That’s either the most romantic or most confusing thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
“Then let me try something simpler.”
I reached out, brushed my fingers along her cheek. Her skin was warm, her breath catching just once — and the bond surged, bright and electric, as if the sea itself was holding its breath.
“Do you feel it?” I whispered.
