Instinct’s eyes found hers.
Arwen was still studying her healed shoulder, fingertips moving over the deep brown skin where the basilisk’s claws had torn through flesh only hours before.
Not even a scar remained.
She finally noticed the faint smile on his face.
“What?”
Instinct considered her for a moment.
“I was thinking we should probably make absolutely certain the healing worked.”
Arwen’s emerald eyes narrowed.
“That is a terrible excuse.”
“Is it working?”
The color rising into her cheeks—and all the way to the tips of her pointed ears—gave him his answer.
“You are shameless.”
“I’ve known you for less than a day.
How would you know?”
Arwen stared at him.
Then, despite herself, she laughed.
It was the first time Instinct had heard the sound.
Warm.
Unexpected.
And entirely different from the exhausted woman he had carried into the cave.
He liked it.
Perhaps too much.
Arwen seemed to notice the way he was looking at her.
Her laughter faded, but the smile remained.
The bond between them stirred.
Instinct felt the change immediately.
Not her thoughts.
Not words.
Something simpler.
Warmth.
Interest.
A quiet pull that echoed his own.
Neither of them needed healing now.
There was no contamination threatening her life.
No necessity forcing a decision.
This time, there was only choice.
Arwen reached for him first.
Her fingers curled around the back of his neck and drew him into a kiss.
Instinct answered without hesitation.
What followed was nothing like the first time.
There was no fear hanging over them.
No desperate awareness that every passing moment might be Arwen’s last.
They had time.
And they used it.
Their intimacy unfolded slowly, two people learning one another without the urgency that had accompanied the formation of the bond.
Instinct discovered the touches that made Arwen’s breath catch; Arwen learned just as quickly how to draw the same reactions from him.
The bond made everything sharper.
Not because it controlled them.
Because it allowed faint echoes to pass between them.
Pleasure answered pleasure.
Desire fed desire.
When Arwen shivered beneath his touch, a trace of the sensation reached him through the connection.
When his breathing changed beneath hers, she felt enough of his response to smile against his lips.
It became a language of its own.
Touch.
Breath.
Emotion.
The quiet pulse of two essences that now recognized one another.
Hours passed unnoticed.
Eventually, exhaustion accomplished what restraint had failed to do.
They fell asleep together.
⸻
Morning found them intertwined.
Arwen’s head rested against Instinct’s chest, her long black hair spread across him in loose waves.
One arm lay across his waist while her breathing remained slow and peaceful.
Instinct stayed still.
Outside the cave, the forest had awakened.
Birds called through the canopy.
Leaves rustled in the morning breeze.
Somewhere in the distance, water moved over stone.
For someone who possessed no memories of another life, Instinct found the moment strangely familiar.
Peaceful.
Then Nyx ruined it.
” SO… QUITE THE PRODUCTIVE EVENING, WASN’T IT?
”
Instinct closed his eyes.
Good morning to you too.
” OH, IT WAS.
I HAD HOURS OF ENTERTAINMENT.
”
Nyx.
Her laughter whispered through his consciousness.
Instinct decided changing the subject was safer.
How many levels did I gain?
Nyx immediately sounded pleased with herself.
” LET’S SEE… YOU WERE LEVEL TWO BEFORE FORMING THE BOND.
”
A deliberate pause.
” EIGHTEEN LEVELS.
”
Instinct’s attention sharpened.
” CONGRATULATIONS, SWEETIE.
YOU’RE NOW LEVEL TWENTY.
”
Eighteen levels.
From a single bond.
Instinct looked down at Arwen.
Even weakened and dying, the presence he had encountered within her Inner Realm had been formidable.
Apparently, his class agreed.
Level Twenty.
” YES.
I’M VERY PROUD.
YOU’VE GROWN FROM A BABY INTO A SLIGHTLY LARGER BABY.
”
Instinct ignored her.
Eighteen levels had to mean something.
His attributes still displayed Absolute, so there was no simple number to compare.
But if levels represented development, access, control, and mastery, then gaining eighteen at once should have changed something.
Perhaps several things.
He would find out.
Later.
Arwen shifted against him.
Her emerald eyes slowly opened.
For a few seconds, she simply stared at him.
Then memory apparently returned.
Color immediately touched her cheeks.
Instinct smiled.
Arwen narrowed her eyes.
“Not one word.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were going to.”
“I was thinking about breakfast.”
“Liar.”
Instinct laughed.
“We should eat.”
Arwen groaned and buried her face against his chest.
“Do we have to?”
“Yes.”
Another groan.
Apparently four hundred and thirty-seven years of life had not made mornings any easier.
Eventually, they separated and dressed.
The boars Instinct had killed were still their only practical source of food, so he rebuilt the fire while Arwen helped prepare what remained of the meat.
The difference in her was remarkable.
Only hours earlier, she had barely possessed the strength to lift herself from the stone.
Now she moved easily.
Gracefully.
No fever.
No pain.
No weakness.
The bond had done exactly what it was supposed to do.
Instinct caught himself watching her.
Arwen noticed.
She rolled her eyes.
But she was smiling.
As the meat cooked over the flames, Instinct finally asked the question that had been waiting since she awakened.
“How did the basilisk get you?”
Arwen’s expression changed.
She looked toward the fire.
“I was hunting it.”
“Deliberately?”
Her eyes slid toward him.
“Yes, deliberately.”
Instinct waited.
Arwen sighed.
“Basilisks are dangerous, but their venom has properties valuable in certain elven remedies.
I had been tracking that one through the forest.”
“You thought you could kill it.”
“I knew I could kill it.”
Instinct glanced pointedly at the shoulder that had nearly killed her.
Arwen’s eyes narrowed.
“I miscalculated.”
“You nearly died.”
“I am aware.”
“Just checking.”
The look she gave him suggested the newly formed bond might not prevent her from stabbing him.
Instinct decided he liked that.
Arwen returned her attention to the fire.
“It caught me off guard.
I wounded it, but not before its claws struck my shoulder.
By the time I realized how badly I had been contaminated, it was already spreading through my body.”
Her expression tightened.
“I ran.”
“How far?”
“Perhaps a kilometer or two.
I don’t remember exactly.”
Instinct remembered what he had witnessed inside her Inner Realm.
Darkness.
Branches.
Pain.
Her lungs burning.
Her legs finally failing beneath her.
“And then you reached the cave.”
Arwen nodded.
Instinct studied her.
“You risked your life for basilisk venom.”
“I had a reason.”
Something changed in her voice.
“My people…”
She stopped.
Instinct waited rather than pressing her.
Arwen stared into the flames.
“There is an illness spreading through our settlement.
We have treatments that slow it, but some of the ingredients we need are difficult to obtain.”
“The venom.”
“Yes.”
Her fingers tightened slightly against her knee.
“Properly prepared, it can be used in several elven remedies.
“So you went after the basilisk yourself.”
“I was one of the people capable of doing it.”
“Capable.”
Arwen turned toward him very slowly.
Instinct managed to keep his expression neutral.
Barely.
“I wounded it,” she reminded him.
“And then stumbled half-dead toward my cave.”
Her emerald eyes narrowed dangerously.
“Yes.”
Instinct nodded.
“Just making sure we agree on the important details.”
Arwen stared at him another second before a reluctant smile betrayed her.
Then it disappeared.
“My people still need that venom.”
Instinct had already reached the same conclusion.
“You don’t have to get it alone anymore.”
Arwen looked at him.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Something faint passed through the bond.
Surprise.
Perhaps uncertainty.
“My people still need it,” she repeated.
“I know.”
“And the basilisk is still alive.”
“Good.”
Arwen frowned.
“Good?”
Instinct reached for Moonfall.
“If it were dead, finding it would be considerably less interesting.”
Arwen stared at him.
“You have never fought a basilisk.”
“No.”
“You don’t even know what one looks like.”
“No.”
“It nearly killed me.”
“I noticed.”
Arwen continued staring.
Instinct met her gaze calmly.
Finally she asked, “And you still intend to come?”
“You nearly died trying to get something your people need.
I’m not going to watch you walk back into the forest alone.”
Arwen’s expression softened slightly.
“I did survive for centuries before meeting you.”
“I’m sure you did.”
“And I am considerably stronger than you.”
“That remains to be seen.”
That earned him an incredulous look.
Instinct smiled.
“Besides, I need experience.”
Arwen sighed.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“I was beginning to think this was entirely noble.”
“I never claimed to be noble.”
“No.
You certainly did not.”
But there was no irritation behind the words.
The bond carried something warmer.
Arwen looked into the fire for a while longer.
Then she nodded.
“We find the basilisk together.”
Instinct extended his hand.
Arwen looked at it.
Then at him.
“What?”
“It seemed appropriate.”
Her lips twitched.
She placed her hand in his.
“Together.”
Instinct closed his fingers around hers.
They finished breakfast in comfortable silence.
Something had changed since the previous night.
Not merely because of the bond.
The magic connected them, but it hadn’t created what was growing between them.
It hadn’t manufactured Arwen’s stubbornness, her dry humor, or the quiet determination that had driven her into the forest for the sake of her people.
Those things belonged to her.
The bond simply allowed Instinct to feel the faintest echoes of the person beside him.
And the more he learned about her, the more curious he became.
” CAREFUL.
”
Nyx’s voice slipped privately through his thoughts.
Instinct ignored her.
” YOU’RE GETTING ATTACHED.
”
He looked at Arwen.
She was cleaning her blade, attention focused on the steel.
Perhaps Nyx was right.
Until yesterday, Instinct had been alone.
Now Arwen’s presence rested at the edge of his awareness.
Not a possession.
Not a reward for gaining eighteen levels.
A person who had chosen him.
And whom he had chosen in return.
For the first time since awakening beneath that forest canopy, Instinct found himself thinking about the road ahead differently.
Not where he would go.
Where they would go.