His face—ah, his face. It's like watching a fortress wall crack in real time. Something vulnerable and raw flashes behind those storm-gray eyes before his expression hardens again. My words have genuinely blindsided him.
"Feasible," he echoes. He looks as if he's hearing the word for the first time.
I shift again. Both buttcheeks have lost feeling, but I still don't want to interrupt Pip's sleep. "Yeah. You know—long-term. Values. Morals. Views of the future."
"You're questioning whether to accept the mate bond." His voice drops an octave, rougher around the edges. Not threatening, but definitely unsettled.
"No. I've accepted it—"
"I'm not denying it. I'm just asking for more. This isn't just about some mystical connection, Asher. It's about two people with separate lives figuring out if they're compatible."
His laugh is short and harsh. "Compatibility is irrelevant. The bond doesn't make mistakes."
"Maybe not for shifters," I counter. "But I'm human. And humans don't typically commit our entire futures to someone we've known for less than a week."
Pip stirs against me, her tiny nose scrunching up before settling back down. I lower my voice further.
"I want to get to know you," I continue. "The real you—not just the Lycan King or the guy who can make my body feel things I didn't know were possible. Not as the man who killed people I've known for years. I want to know Asher so well I can judge what you're thinking just by the way the skin wrinkles at the corner of your eyes, or how your lips curve up or down. If we don't have that, is it really a relationship at all?"
Asher rubs a hand over his face, frustration radiating from him. "You speak as if we're strangers deciding whether to date."
It's hard to understand why he thinks we're not.
"Aren't we?" I ask quietly. "Besides you being possessive and lethal, what do I really know about you?"
His gaze shifts to Pip, then back to me. "I've been trying to picture it," he admits, and the vulnerability in his tone catches me off-guard. "You, with me. Children. A home."
I bite my lip. "I haven't."
By the way his face darkens, I've said the very, very wrong thing.
Hastily, I try to patch it up. "I want to know what makes you laugh, what keeps you up at night, what you dream about when you're not killing people for looking at me wrong. These are the things I've been thinking about."
Well—among other, R-rated things. But admitting that here feels very dangerous.
Asher's face is a battlefield of emotions—disappointment warring with confusion, frustration tangled with something that looks dangerously like hurt.
"You're rejecting me," he says, sounding flat and emotionless.
"Absolutely not." See? I knew he'd take it the wrong way. "That's not what I'm saying. I'm saying I need to actually know the person I'm supposedly destined to spend forever with. Let's take it slow."
His jaw works, muscles tensing. "You know me."
"No, I don't. And you don't know me."
"I know you. I know your scent. I know how you breathe when you're rattled. You keep picking at your thumb when you're nervous, and you pretend to be submissive when you're thinking about running."
I blink, glancing down at the thumb in question. There's a tiny section of ragged skin by the cuticle; I'd broken the habit years ago, but I guess it's come back. "Okay—but what's my favorite color? Favorite food? Do I like horror or do I like romance? Do I like to read? What about school? What do I want to do in my future?"
He frowns. "Knowing or not knowing changes nothing."
"These aren't trivial things, Asher. They're the foundation of actually sharing a life with someone."
"You think wolves court like humans," he says flatly. "With dinner dates and favorite colors."
I'm pretty sure I said a lot more than that. I very specifically pointed out it's more than just surface-deep, didn't I?
My eyelid twitches. "I'm saying I think we need something between 'hello' and 'let's start a family.'"
His gaze drops to Pip again, and I see the calculation happening behind those storm-cloud eyes. "You've already accepted this child into your life without hesitation."
"Yes," I insist. "She's innocent and defenseless and—"
"—and you felt a connection to her," he finishes. "An immediate, unquestionable bond that told you she belongs with you. Despite barely knowing her."
Shit. He has a point.
It throws me for a loop, and I struggle to regain my high ground in this conversation. "It's not the same," I argue, but my voice lacks conviction. "A child isn't a life partner. The obligations and expectations are completely different."
"The principle isn't," he counters. "You recognize bonds that matter. You act on them instinctively. With her. With me."
I shift Pip gently in my lap. "I'm not denying our connection. I'm just saying the connection isn't enough by itself."
Asher frowns. "In wolf culture, the bond is everything. It's sacred. Wolves who find their mates consider themselves completed. Two halves of one whole."
"I'm not a wolf," I remind him gently.
"No," he agrees. "You're not."
Something about the way he says it—not dismissive, but contemplative—makes me wonder if he's finally starting to understand the gap between us. It's not just species or culture. It's entire worldviews colliding.
"This matters to you," he says slowly. "This... getting to know each other."
"Beyond the physical."
I feel heat creep up my neck. "Considering the physical nearly killed me last time, yes, definitely beyond that."
The corner of his mouth twitches, almost a smile. "What exactly did you have in mind? Shall I recite poetry and bring you flowers?"
The image of the fearsome Lycan King clutching a bouquet makes a bubble of inappropriate laughter rise in my throat. "Maybe start with telling me something about yourself that isn't terrifying."
He considers this for a long moment. "I play chess."