"Vael?"
Vessara called out, but got no response. The leather of the car seat was cold beneath Vessara's thighs, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from her bonded mate beside her. The packhouse loomed through the windshield.
She watched his hands.
Clutched. White-knuckled. The tendons in his wrists stood out like cords beneath his skin. His jaw was set so tight she could see the muscle jumping along his cheekbone. The car idled in the driveway, headlights casting long shadows across the packhouse's stone facade.
"Vael!"
He snapped out of his thoughts and looked at her. "Were…you saying something?"
"Are you sure you're okay?"
Vael nodded. "Yeah."
"You've been doing that since we left the hall." Vessara pointed at his clenched fist. "Are you really okay?"
