Page 95 of Thexan

“Because of the bond, the physical exertion of the previous cycle, and the psychological adjustment required after rapid life alteration.”

I stared at him for a second, then laughed softly despite myself.

“That may be the least romantic thing anyone has ever said to a woman in bed.”

His attention sharpened, not offended but intent. “It was intended as concern.”

“I know.” I let my hand slide down to rest against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm beneath it. “And somehow that makes it work.”

He considered that, and the fact that he did made my chest ache in a way I was quickly learning to associate with him.

“Then I will continue,” he said.

“Carefully,” I warned. “There are limits.”

“I will require clarification.”

“I’m sure you will.”

The humor softened the moment without diminishing what lay beneath it. For a little while longer, I let myself stay there, sharing quiet in a room that had never held much softness before. I had slept here for years because it was convenient, because the infirmary needed me close. There was always someone who might knock in the middle of the night needing stitches or fever medicine or a place to die without being alone.

I had never thought of it as lonely.

Not until it wasn’t.

Outside, someone called my name.

The sound came faintly through the wall, followed by footsteps that stopped just short of the infirmary entrance.

I closed my eyes briefly. “That didn’t take long.”

Thexan’s attention shifted immediately, his body going still in a way that told me he was already tracking position, intent, possible threat.

“It is Tanner,” he said.

“I know.”

“He is alone.”

“I know that too.”

A pause followed, and then Tanner knocked on the infirmary door. Not hard, not urgent, but firm enough to make it clear this wasn’t a social call.

“Brynn? You awake?”

I pushed myself up on one elbow. “Technically.”

Thexan looked at me.

“I’m not answering the door like this,” I said.

“That is advisable.”

I gave him a look as I reached for my clothes, but he only watched me with that infuriatingly calm attention that meant he had no idea he’d said anything funny. Or maybe he did and simply refused to show it. With Thexan, I was beginning to suspect both were possible.

By the time I stepped into the infirmary, Tanner was still waiting outside.

I opened the door halfway, not to hide Thexan, but I was still buttoning the top of my shirt and had no intention of giving Tanner more information than he needed.