Elora’s POV
Varek turned to us, irritation carved into his face.
“In case you were wondering what this box does—it talks.”
That was all he offered before he started walking again like nothing had happened, leaving the rest of us with a pile of questions.
“What do you mean, it talks?” Garrett asked.
“It gets in your head.
Wants you to open it,” Varek said, aggravated.
“Doesn’t matter.
Keep moving.”
A shiver crawled down my spine.
I couldn’t help wondering what the box had said to rattle him that badly.
He seemed different—uneasy, wound tight.
“Change of plans,” Garrett announced, snatching the box from Varek’s hands.
“We take turns holding it until we hit the river.”
I waited for Varek to push back.
He didn’t say a word.
Why wasn’t he arguing?
Arguing was his native tongue.
One thing was clear—whatever that box had whispered to make him fold without a fight was something serious.
My anxiety climbed as it hit me: taking turns meant mine was coming up soon.
I hated voices.
I used to hear them in my nightmares, over and over, and to this day the scars hadn’t faded.
“You’re going pale,” Declan teased, knocking his shoulder into mine.
“You know something we don’t?”
“No!” I blurted, eyes going wide.
“I—I’m just not a big fan of talking boxes.”
Declan laughed.
“Relax.
You’ll be fine.”
We walked in silence again—until it snapped, because Garrett clutched his head the same way Varek had and set the box on the ground.
Whatever that thing was, it had gotten to him too.
His face was taut.
Almost terrified.
“I need a break,” Garrett said abruptly.
He dropped the box and strode off toward a nearby pond.
I hesitated, wondering if I should check on him, then decided against it.
What would I even say?
We barely spoke.
Thornhart men were famous for their big brains and their brute strength.
But mentally?
Not exactly the most stable stock.
“I’ll go check on our strategist,” Declan said, dropping the backpacks.
“Be right back!” And he hurried off after Garrett.
I was grateful he’d volunteered instead of me—except there was one small problem.
I was alone.
With Varek.
I could feel his eyes scorching into my skin.
When I looked over, he was watching me with an expression I couldn’t read.
Was he angry?
Annoyed?
I didn’t know, and I didn’t care.
All I knew was that I needed space from him.
Without a word, I slipped behind a nearby tree, trying to put distance between us.
When I heard footsteps closing in, I shut my eyes and pulled in a breath, already knowing whose they were.
Varek.
“Why are you following me?” I hurled back the exact words he’d thrown at me the night we found out we were mates.
Varek chuckled and stepped closer.
The box’s grip on him seemed to have lifted; he was back to his usual, insufferable self.
His face was close—too close.
I held my breath, nervous, staring into those dark eyes, and this time I could see every detail, down to the dark swirl of his pupils.
Was he going to kiss me again?
Would I let him?
“I’m the team leader, and you’re an immature, reckless mess.” My eyes dropped to his lips as they moved.
“It’s my job to follow you.”
I opened my mouth to say something—anything—and stopped cold when I felt his warm breath against my neck.
Gently, his hands slid to my shoulders, then went still, like he was testing my reaction.
I didn’t move a muscle.
This time he gripped my shoulders harder and inhaled deep, his face still buried near my neck.
“That smell is driving me insane.”
The words were whispered so low they weren’t meant to reach me—and yet they did.
I fought for control over every inch of my body, torn between shoving him off and dragging him closer, just to feel his mouth on mine.
His eyes locked back onto mine.
He didn’t say a thing.
Neither did I.
I waited—braced for the crush of his lips.
As he leaned in, I thought it was finally going to happen.
Instead, his mouth just grazed my cheek for the briefest second.