He had never thought that he would welcome a telepathic bond with anyone, not with how hard he had worked for years to close his mind and heart to others for fear of having his thoughts stripped from him against his will by the agents of the Dark Tapestry and Unity’s minions. That had been before Rory and Amalia had entered his life, however, before he had begun learning to trust again, to let down his defenses willingly. Reaching out, though, asking for help… well, he had just had a harsh lesson in the mistakes of doing that so blindly, and of trusting so recklessly.
A lesson he had tried to pass on, only to be the one to fail the test when it had come down to it.
But through the Attuned bond Amalia could feel his anguish, his weariness, and the weakness that he had tried to hide for so long, almost always before plastered over with confident smiles and misdirecting laughter. Now he had no strength to maintain those illusions, or to flee the compassion that she slipped through his shattered shields. Nor had he the energy to deny what she said to him, that she wanted to stay with him in this dark, messy, ugly emotional storm that he had capsized in. Jigano might have let his demons convince him that he deserved to be alone, and his body still shivered beneath her touch, but he made no attempt to pull away from her – not from her touch, nor from the mental and emotional thread that connected them.
Isuma was less restrained, crawling into Amalia’s lap and cuddling into her touch. She was neither too proud nor too jaded to know when to ask for comfort, and she welcomed both the baker’s soothing pets and Jyoti’s calming presence with quiet, unself-conscious gratitude.
The silence was welcome in some ways, giving him a chance to accept Amalia’s presence by his side as he continued to silently wrestle with himself, even as further guilt joined the fray: that he was causing the leopardess distress by allowing himself to be seen like this. When it came, he almost missed her voice, and he hesitated to answer at first. He could barely pull coherent thoughts from his twisted emotions, much less words, but the bond betrayed him as a fraction of the unfiltered twist of guilt and pain slid between them. I am failing you, my Amalia. Have failed you… all of you, the ones I love. Just as I did before, he admitted, a low whimper in his fox’s throat.
A lesson he had tried to pass on, only to be the one to fail the test when it had come down to it.
But through the Attuned bond Amalia could feel his anguish, his weariness, and the weakness that he had tried to hide for so long, almost always before plastered over with confident smiles and misdirecting laughter. Now he had no strength to maintain those illusions, or to flee the compassion that she slipped through his shattered shields. Nor had he the energy to deny what she said to him, that she wanted to stay with him in this dark, messy, ugly emotional storm that he had capsized in. Jigano might have let his demons convince him that he deserved to be alone, and his body still shivered beneath her touch, but he made no attempt to pull away from her – not from her touch, nor from the mental and emotional thread that connected them.
Isuma was less restrained, crawling into Amalia’s lap and cuddling into her touch. She was neither too proud nor too jaded to know when to ask for comfort, and she welcomed both the baker’s soothing pets and Jyoti’s calming presence with quiet, unself-conscious gratitude.
The silence was welcome in some ways, giving him a chance to accept Amalia’s presence by his side as he continued to silently wrestle with himself, even as further guilt joined the fray: that he was causing the leopardess distress by allowing himself to be seen like this. When it came, he almost missed her voice, and he hesitated to answer at first. He could barely pull coherent thoughts from his twisted emotions, much less words, but the bond betrayed him as a fraction of the unfiltered twist of guilt and pain slid between them. I am failing you, my Amalia. Have failed you… all of you, the ones I love. Just as I did before, he admitted, a low whimper in his fox’s throat.
