Page 29 of Fate

Because then it would be over, and she’d be tempted to talk again. But then he whispered her name. Or perhaps it was another groan.

But it was there.

She said his name in answer.

And she did not know which release came first. Knew only that the tension peaked at a magnificent unfurling. That the world was white, and the bond was bright and overwhelming in its peace. Its rightness.

She felt somehow languid and excitable all at once. That she might begin to laugh if she was not careful. That she would kiss him again, this time in triumph. In the affection that bloomed from every part of her. The need to touch him was fierce. Tocling and hold and draw out that perfect moment for just a little longer.

Which was unnecessary, she knew. They had forever. Perhaps it would not all be new as this was. But it would grow more tender as they learned more of one another. He moved off of her, and she might have mourned the loss if he did not nestle her to his side, allowing her to do as she pleased. To kiss occasionally. To nuzzle and whisper little promises too quietly for him to hear.

That everything would be just fine. He’d see. His family would love her because they loved him. He would admire hers just as soon as he met them.

“What are you muttering about?” Lucian asked, his hand picking up a section of her hair so he might see her lips and make out some of it. “Not complaints, I should hope.” He was teasing her, because he knew perfectly well how much she had enjoyed it.

“Oh yes,” she countered, curling up against him. “Because it’s over,” she clarified, before he could take any sort of offense. “And I rather liked it.”

She did not ask if he felt the same. She knew he did. Had felt it in every bit of him. It might have been nice to hear, however, but that was all right. She knew she was freer with her words and feelings than most.

“And you wanted to sleep,” she chided, shaking her head in a dramatic fashion.

“An absurd thought,” Lucian agreed. “When this immodest creature intended to have her way with me.”

It was not exactly a compliment, and yet the words filled her with such fondness for him she thought she might burst. “Perhaps I might have considered sleeping, if you had worn proper night clothes.”

He rolled his eyes, but it lacked the tension he’d worn before. It had all eased out of him, at least for the moment, and she would treasure that as fiercely as she held the rest of it. “I brought it upon myself—that is what you mean to say?”

Firen sat up slightly, beaming at him. “Precisely.”

He was going to kiss her again. She could see it in his eyes. Feel it through the bond. To punctuate their teases with something warm and affectionate.

But instead, he sighed, rolling away and stretching out his muscles. “Where are you going?” she asked, distinctly disappointed that he had denied the kiss she felt had been promised to her.

“Did your mother never teach you to wash afterward?”

She didn’t like the prickly feeling that spread at the mention of her mother. The wariness that interrupted the perfect understanding she thought they had found through mouths and touch and mated congress.

She sat up, trying to smooth away the hurt that had no business being there, and stilled when he grasped hold of her chin gently and kissed her. Just once. Not the lingering, needful one that she’d wanted, but a brush of sweetness that soothed her more than she cared to admit. “I meant no insult if she didn’t.”

Of course he hadn’t. It was more of his teases, that was all, and she’d been foolish about it.

So she tossed her hair as he released her, and she knew it was tangled and frightful after their loving. A comb. A wash. “The book might have mentioned washing, yes,” she added as she vacated the bed as well. Rumpled. That’s how it looked. Where it once had been all crisp lines and a carefully tucked coverlet, now it appeared... likely as she did.

Lucian did not move even as she moved toward the bathing room. “We’ve only the one,” he reminded her, his brow furrowed.

She glanced down at herself. She had not forgotten she was naked—couldn’t, not when he was equally so and looking rather marvellous. His phallus had retreated, just as the book said it would, and she found herself wondering how long it might take to bring it out again. Which would mean washing all over, and that was a tedious business, wasn’t it? “Is there something you’ve not seen that you would need a separate bathing room?”

She did not bother to mention that facilities were scarce in her childhood home. That privacy was a luxury sometimes forfeited out of necessity.

Lucian huffed and brushed past her, but opened the door and gestured her in first.

She did not flounce. Truly, she didn’t. But from the sound that Lucian made as she walked past him, it was more than apparent he appreciated what he saw. Which was just as well. She found his form immensely pleasing.

The room felt smaller with both of them in it. Not cramped—not like when Eris grew impatient and intruded at home. It felt... intimate. Even more so when he went to a cupboard and pulled out a cloth. Then stopped her when she made to douse it in cold water from the tap.

He pulled on a decorative cord dangling near the basin, then opened the tap.

Instead of the cold water she’d used for her teeth, it was warm—almost hot.