“Where do you think you’re going?”
The question seemed to echo in the quiet apartment. An outstretched hand halted its movement, clenching to a fist mere inches from the handle. Had the speaker been able to see the eyes now fixed on the door, the glare might have caused fear. In contrast, the telepathic voice was mocking. *Isn’t it obvious?*
The speaker’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not leaving tonight. No good will come of it.”
The other turned, smirked. *No good for whom?*
The first snorted. “Neither of us.” The tone turned cold. “You will be seen.”
Silence stretched, tense and resentful.
“Unless you intend to break him, you won’t make him yours that way.”
The other flinched. “I won’t break him!” There was another moment of silence as composure was regained. “I want him willing, not subdued.”
The first one’s gaze was steady and inscrutable. “Then you have nothing to gain by stalking him.”
A deep sigh seemed to fill the apartment. “I just want to see him free of hate.”
“Give it time,” the first said enigmatically, “and you might get what you wish for.”
Eyes locked and held. Minutes passed before the other relaxed and nodded, still uncharacteristically solemn. “I’ll do that.”