Page 15 of The Lunatics

“And this uncomfortable moment reminds me of all the questions Ididn’task your parents,” he said.

I’d reacted too late. He’d noticed my mental gutter dive.Kill me now.

“I’m sorry,” I muttered into my palms.

Annoyance flared through the bond. “Is this to be expected? Will we be forced into each other’s beds on top of everything else we must endure?”

I lifted my head. “Gee, thanks for making the prospect of sex with me sound like torture.”

He made a prudish sound and looked away, cheeks coloring. “Apologies. I misspoke. This has been a trying day. I’m sure that would be…” He waved a hand in my general direction. “Quite enjoyable.”

I tried not to be offended by his utter lack of enthusiasm. “It’s fine. And no, it doesn’t in any way coerce or manipulate us together like that. It does, however, have an unfortunate side effect in that area.”

He sat in one fluid motion, lifting a leg to rest his ankle on his knee. “Explain.”

“If one or the other of us is… excited in that way, be it sex, masturbation, or even a wet dream, the other will feel it.”

His expression flattened. “Splendid. Are we to have anything to ourselves?”

“Our thoughts. And you heard Dad say that over time we’ll learn how to mute the bond.”

“That day cannot come soon enough,” he said, plucking an imaginary piece of lint from his pant leg.

“I really am sorry, Michael.” A man like him, in such total control of himself, must hate the small feeling of helplessness I could sense like an echo in the back of my mind.

“As am I,” he said, sounding like he actually meant it. “Tell me, what is it you do?”

“I’m in the middle of pursuing my master’s in archaeology.”

“Really?”

I nodded. “I’d like to eventually earn my doctorate, with a focus on early human iconography.”

“Let me guess, you’re chasing the werewolf mythos back through the ages?”

I sat back against the headboard. “Okay, maybe I was wrong about having our thoughts to ourselves.”

“I assure you, it was nothing more than a lucky guess,” he said. “I’m assuming that you’re home for the summer because you’re in between semesters?”

I nodded. “Why do you ask?”

He spread his hands as if in apology. “Because I am the vice president of a billion-dollar family-owned corporation.”

I sighed. “You can’t leave Boston.”

“I can’t leave Boston.”

“Guess I’m moving down then.” I couldn’t keep the sadnessfrom my tone, and though I tried to borrow some of his calm like Dad suggested, I was too new at this. It was like grasping at straws, and it did nothing to keep my sudden overwhelming sense of loss at bay.

Michael shifted in his seat and leaned forward, stopping himself just shy of rising. Another thing my parents warned us about was the way the bond would make us want to do almost anything to protect and comfort each other.

I held up a hand to forestall him. “Just give me a second while I try to get it under control.” Several deep breaths later, I fought back the threat of tears. “Wow. When I woke up this morning, I never would have imagined the day would end like this.”

“Leaving your family, your pack, it’s a terrible thing to ask of you,” he said. “Perhaps we can come to some sort of compromise. I can change my work schedule to Monday through Thursday, and we can come back up here Friday through Sunday.”

I blinked at him. “You’d do that?”

“It’s the least I can do after you were so readily amenable to moving.”