Page 15 of Fate

Lucian paced.

From one side of the room to the other, his eyes darting toward her every so often. She would not speak first. She’d decided that, although she could not have said when. It settled rightly, soothing and reassuring. If he wanted her to stay, then he would have to begin it with an apology. She’d done no wrong. Not in her word, nor in her birth.

And if he expected her to offer any without the conviction of her conscience, he would wait for a very long time.

He didn’t look at her when he finally paused. Her mother would have insisted that a turned back was rude and that no apology could be given without a proper posture and a penitent tone.

But perhaps his mother did not have the same handle on manners as hers did.

It felt an unkind thought toward a woman she’d yet to meet—one she hoped she might love. Families grew with each mating.It wasn’t meant to be loss and threat and everything Lucian was making it to be.

“I’ll not keep you from your family,” he said at last.

Which was not an apology at all.

“No,” she agreed. “You will not.”

His shoulders had the audacity to shift in a way that suggested he had to take a deep breath in order to carry on. As if he had to be patient withher.

She was not a woman easily angered. She despised conflict of any sort and would do whatever she could to smooth things as quickly and efficiently as possible.

He didn’t know that, she reminded herself firmly. They were bound, that was all. Working out the rest was up to them.

She rubbed her hands against her knees, praying for calm. For understanding.

Praying he’d open his mouth and set things right between them.

Da would have gone to Mama. Pulled her closed and whispered in her ear. Their mendings were quiet, done through closeness and quiet assurances that things would be better.

Did he feel the tension in the space between them? Was it a comfort to him, or did he feel the same urges that she did to close it? To touch and encourage and smooth away hurts with a balm of affection?

She wanted it.

But stayed where she was.

“I will...” He halted, his shoulders moving again as he heaved another great breath. Finally turned to her with his hand moving through the longer bits of his hair, his grip a little too firm. “You don’t understand.”

Firen nodded, for at least they agreed on that. “No, I don’t. You’re going to have to help me.”

And for once, he was not scowling. He looked... almost lost, standing near the door.

He might not deserve it. Might not have earned her consideration with his behaviour, but she found herself sighing just a little. Perhaps he simply did not know how to proceed. Perhaps he wasn’t given as excellent an example of a companionable mating as she had. “Maybe it would help if you weren’t all the way over there.” She patted the bed beside her, the invitation a shocking one from a certain point of view.

He seemed to share that perspective, for his eyes widened and he took another step back toward the wall as she rolled her eyes at him.

“Or stay there,” she conceded. “Although I would argue there is nothing shocking about sitting close to one’s mate, whether or not it is on a bed.”

He snorted, shaking his head. And for a moment, she truly thought he intended to keep as far away from her as possible. Yet he moved. His steps were begrudging as he sat beside her. Not directly—certainly not touching—but he was there. His legs stretching out in front of him as he stared down at his boots with a hint of his glare.

The bed in its strange cupboard made for an almost muffled quality. Made it feel all the more private. Dark. Where they might talk without having to stare at one another too deeply.

Except that she wanted to. Wanted to know every bit of him, inside and out.

Varrel had been quiet. He would answer any question put to him, his answers carefully considered when they were of a more important nature—how Eris would live with him. His ability to provide for her and their fledglings when they came. Those sorts of things.

But Lucian...

It was a different sort of silence. Or perhaps it was having the bond, humming and squirming about in her chest, making his tension a physical reality in her own body.