He nods again. He’s not taking me seriously. I bet he’d do more than nod if I threw a flaming log at his head. I breathe through the urge, resting my hands on my lower belly, not entirely conscious of the gesture until his gaze tracks it and the bond comes alive with energy.

“No,” I say. “Don’t.” I draw my knees up to my chest. It’s a reflex. Protect the pup.

He exhales, his nostrils flaring, his gaze dropping to the fire. He pokes at the logs again, not doing much but making it smoke. Eventually, he firms his jaw and meets my eyes again. “You’re okay? And the...