Chapter 74: Learning You

Astrid

I was already dressed and restless by the time I wandered into the living room. Days of staying in one apartment while the bond settled had never sat well with me, and I found myself watching Reed instead of doing anything productive with my morning.

"You’ve been reading that for twenty minutes," I said.

He glanced up. "Have you been watching me for twenty minutes?"

I looked away fast. Xander laughed from somewhere across the room.

Reed closed the book he’d been buried in, explaining that now that the mating had changed our bond, it made sense to understand exactly what had shifted.

"And how are we supposed to do that?" I asked, crossing my arms.

"I have several suggestions," Xander said immediately.

Reed gave him a warning look. "None of them involve whatever you’re thinking."

Xander sighed dramatically. "You never let me contribute."

I laughed despite myself. Reed said we’d start simply. "Close your eyes."

"That sounds suspicious," I said, narrowing mine.

"Everything sounds suspicious when you say it," Xander said, grinning.

I sat down in the middle of the living room anyway and closed my eyes. Reed told me not to listen for footsteps, that I needed to actually use the bond. I thought it sounded ridiculous, but I tried anyway. He moved somewhere else. Xander moved too.

For a few seconds I felt nothing. "This isn’t working."

"Give it a second, trouble," Xander said from somewhere near the kitchen.

I concentrated harder. First there was just warmth, undefined and everywhere. Then something shifted, and I felt one presence clearly. Quiet. Steady. Grounding.

I pointed. Reed was exactly where I’d indicated.

"That was luck," Xander protested.

I closed my eyes again, searching for him this time. His presence felt different entirely, brighter, restless, like something tapping repeatedly against the bond rather than sitting still within it.

I pointed toward him.

He stared at me. "Okay. That’s creepy."

"You’re creepy," I said, opening my eyes.

Reed smiled. Xander looked between us both, wounded. "Why am I the only one being attacked today?"

I realized, sitting there, that I could actually tell them apart, not by sight or scent, but by something else entirely. That fascinated me more than I expected.

Xander insisted we make it harder, that I should guess what they were feeling instead of just where they stood. Reed said that was more complicated, and Xander ignored him completely. He thought deliberately about food, and I guessed easily.

"Hungry?"

He looked offended. "That’s your first assumption?"

"It was accurate," Reed said.

We tried again, and I guessed Xander’s amusement without much trouble. Reed proved harder, his emotions quieter, more layered, until something brushed against me suddenly, unmistakable.

Concern.

I opened my eyes. Reed looked away immediately.

"You’re worried," I said.

"About you," he admitted after a pause.

He explained he’d been watching closely to see how I was adjusting to the bond. Something warm settled in my chest that had nothing to do with the supernatural side of things at all.

"I’m fine," I told him.

His expression suggested he wasn’t entirely convinced.

"She’s fine," Xander said. "She’s called me creepy twice already."

I threw a cushion at him.

Hunger eventually won out, and Xander volunteered to cook. Reed and I said no in unison, and Xander stared at us both, wounded again.

"Wow."

Reed suggested we make something together instead, and Xander insisted on helping regardless. What followed was chaos, Reed surprisingly competent in the kitchen, me determined to prove I could actually cook something, Xander constantly stealing ingredients when he thought nobody was watching.

I caught his hand reaching for something and grabbed his wrist to stop him. The moment our skin touched, warmth rushed through the bond between us, and he went quiet.

I let go slowly. The air shifted for a second.

Then smoke started curling up from something on the stove.

"The food," Reed said, and everyone scrambled at once.

The tension broke completely into laughter, and later, eating whatever had actually survived, I realized I was genuinely laughing. I hadn’t thought about the King, my mother, school, or Selene once the entire morning.

I’d just been here, with them.

After lunch, we settled in the living room, Xander lounging lazily, Reed tidying up nearby. I found myself asking, "Do you think this is enough?"

They both looked at me.

"The exercises," I clarified. "Learning each other. Does it actually make the bond stronger?"

Reed sat beside me. "I don’t think it can be forced. We can learn to use it. But strength comes from trust."

"Which is unfortunately the boring answer," Xander added.

I smiled. Reed looked at me. "Trust takes time."

Something in that made me nervous. I’d never been good at trusting people. He noticed, but didn’t push.

He suggested something deeper eventually, a kind of conscious synchronization, letting emotions pass through the bond deliberately instead of just guessing at them.

"So... emotional nudity," Xander said.

I nearly choked. Reed closed his eyes. "Why would you call it that?"

"Because it sounds less boring than synchronization."

"Please stop talking," I said.

Reed explained properly, that we’d sit together, hold hands, close our eyes, and try to let feeling pass between us intentionally. I didn’t like the sound of that at all. It felt far more vulnerable than anything we’d tried so far.

"We don’t have to," Reed said, noticing my hesitation.

I thought about it. "No. Let’s try."

We sat together, me in the middle, Reed holding one hand, Xander the other. We closed our eyes. At first nothing happened, and I felt ridiculous.

Then Reed’s presence shifted, and relief poured through the bond, deep and quiet, almost overwhelming. I understood without him saying a word. He was relieved I was still here. Relieved I hadn’t regretted any of it. Relieved I’d stopped running.

My throat tightened.

Then Xander’s emotion hit, bright and warm, happiness enough to make me smile. But underneath it sat something else entirely.

Fear.

I opened my eyes. He was watching me, aware I’d felt it. He tried to smile anyway.

I didn’t let him hide it. "Xander."

He looked away.

I squeezed his hand. "I’m here."

His smile the second time was real.

Then it was my turn, and I closed myself off instantly, nothing passing through at all. Frustration rose fast.

"It’s okay," Reed said.

I shook my head. I wanted to try. I wasn’t ready to give them everything, but I wanted them to know something.

I took a breath and let the bond open just slightly.

The first thing that passed through was simple. Safety. Sitting between them, warm, not needing to run, not needing to lie, not wondering if someone was coming to find me.

I knew they felt it. Reed squeezed my hand. Xander’s thumb brushed against mine.

Neither said anything. They didn’t need to.

For the first time, I’d let someone feel something I usually kept locked away entirely, and it hadn’t destroyed me.

The room stayed quiet afterward. I felt exposed, but not in a way I regretted. I looked at Reed, and he gently brushed a piece of hair away from my face. I leaned forward and kissed him, soft, unhurried.

When I pulled back, Xander made an exaggerated sound of suffering. "Amazing. Truly. I sit here and suffer."

I laughed. "You’re ridiculous."

"And neglected."

I kissed him too, and he went blessedly quiet for once. Reed shook his head, and I laughed again, the three of us simply young people in an apartment, no King, no danger, no secrets between us for once.

As evening settled in, I sat between them again, Xander talking about something ridiculous, Reed pretending not to listen. I looked down at our joined hands and thought about what Reed had said earlier.

Trust takes time.

For most of my life, I’d survived by keeping everything locked inside, because letting people know too much always gave them a way to hurt me eventually. Today I’d opened the bond, just a little.

But I’d done it.

I curled my fingers more securely around theirs and thought, maybe I didn’t have to give them all of me at once. Maybe letting someone in could start with something this small.