Page 62 of Fate

Because he wore one.

Which was an insult all its own. Because it meant she could not be trusted not to seduce him, as she apparently had done before.

“I’ve done that to you,” Firen acknowledged, because it was worth saying it aloud. “I thought my reasons good ones, if it’s any consolation.” He grunted, and still he did not hold her. And they truly needed to get better at this. Both of them. “If I had stayed, would it have helped?”

His hand shifted just a little closer to her hip. “No. But you would have been able to hear me say the words. Would have perhaps trusted me a little more. That I will not let them hurt you. That I do not want our bond to be dissolved, even they have mastered that particular skill.” His hand came to her hip, and she relished the way it gripped her. “Which they have not.”

She breathed a little easier. Because bonds were permanent, just as they were meant to be. No mortal should have the ability to pluck it out, to murder it, just because it suited them.

No, not them.

Their families.

Because they aspired to better, because they were callous and pompous and thought too highly of their own schemes.

“Then I am sorry I left,” Firen offered. Meant it. She’d hurt him, although that had not been her intent. They should have been united before the rest of them. But she’d doubted it. Doubted Lucian. Found it easier to retreat than to watch him neglect his responsibilities to her.

Except he hadn’t.

She buried her head against his chest, and his hand moved along her back. Where muscles were tight with fatigue and all her scrubbing. Not pressing hard enough to relieve the tension, but present. Welcome.

It was quiet between them for a moment. Him holding, her clutching. But when he spoke, it warmed her. That maybe they were getting somewhere after all.

“I am sorry that you felt you had to go.”

She wriggled upward. Because she had to look at him. Had to see the way his eyes were soft even as his brow was furrowed. Such conflict within him. Always. And it made her smile. Made her reach out with her pointer finger and smooth across those lines. Watched as he glowered briefly, unamused by her simple game, but not so much that he meant to stop her.

“I want you to know, I like it best when we are together. I do notwantto leave you.”

His eyes darkened as she knew they would. “Then stop doing it.”

She could push him. Could retort that he ought to stop putting her into a position that it became necessary. But she didn’t. Because then they would argue, and she was rather tired of that.

So she kissed him instead. Softly. Just a brush at first, so she might gauge his reaction. They were tired, after all. Weary, both in body and in mind.

But she gasped when his hold on her tightened. When he seemed intent on pouring all the frustrations of the day into his kisses. And she hadn’t expected his fervour, might have been frightened of it except that it sent a delicious thrill through her. To be wanted. To be desired. Even if things were not perfect between them.

So maybe the nightshirt was not a symbol after all. Perhaps he was simply cold or...

She coloured slightly.

Maybe it was that they no longer had a private bath between them, and he was being modest lest her mother catch sight of him without his clothing.

His fingers tangled in her hair, and she really should have combed it properly. But she had thought they were going to be sleeping. More work for the morning, but she hadn’t thought she needed to look alluring or...

His lips found her neck, nipping at her lightly, and it should not have made her heart race as much as it did. Should not have made her straddle him beneath the quilts, should not have made her hands delve into his hair so she could push his mouth closer to her flesh.

But perhaps there were not rules when it came to loving. There were not shoulds or shouldn’ts...

Just the feel of him against her. The way the bond hummed and settled after too many partings and too many doubts.

But he’d chosen her.

Chosen to come with her, even when she’d been so absolutely certain he would not.

It made her want to be closer to him. Made her want to feel the whole of him, to make her claim and bind him to her in every way she could.

But they were tired. Or... had been.