"We need to talk," Arik said, one hand extended.
His attention remained on Liam, calm and fixed, the red-and-gold owl brooch still pinned at his collar, still biting down on his ether like Wrohan's idea of control could do anything more than irritate him. The faint gold embroidery at his cuffs caught the white ether climbing behind him, and for a second he looked like a god.
"I have work," Liam said.
Arik's expression did not change. "You always have work."
The tone was not loud, but it had the controlled authority of someone who had issued orders in rooms full of people smart enough to realize that refusing would only make the outcome worse.
Liam understood, with some private irritation, that he liked that voice, and even more so, the bond felt right.
It was not Arik he had been avoiding.
