Page 79 of Fate

Not fantasies. Not daydreams of a different life.

Promises.

Of a hot bath and fresh linens, and loving afterward.

It was her turn to glare, to take to the air and fly too near to him so she could kick at him. Because he was smirking in the sort of way her brother might when they both knew he wasteasing her and yet still she was bothered, and it was a wretched thing.

Except different.

Because this time he could grab hold of her. Could wrap her in his arms and suddenly it wasn’t her flying at all, but just him. Supporting her weight, keeping her moving. Holding her close and manoeuvring them toward home.

Not home.

Sort of home.

And she would not sit and stew that their alone time would have to wait. She would make supper. After she left him to get all the sand out of his boots on his own.

Because she was not a perfect mate, and she would not pretend to be.

8. Entitled

Firen had never imagined her first trip to the Halls might include being whisked into a darkened corner. Never thought that her mate would cage her between his arms, his dark wings shielding them further from view.

But then, she had never pictured herself here at all.

“Take a breath, Firen,” Lucian instructed, his face close to hers so that she could look at nothing but his pale eyes. “Another.”

She did.

Three, in fact.

She’d been tugging at the bond again. Because no matter how she wanted to deny it, she was nervous. Not at meeting someone new—there was nothing more natural than that after being raised in the market.

It was the consequences that worried her the most. That Lucian might go without... again. Because of her. And this time would be worse, because she could not control the manner of her birth, the status of her family. The placement of her home and the district it inhabited.

This would be because of how she talked. How she didn’t talk. If she clung too much to her mate, or if she remained too aloof. She’d slept little the night before. Not from lack of trying. Or from the fervent efforts of her mate to please her before he had settled into his side of the cots and found his rest. She did notbegrudge him for it, and she tried to tell her mind to quiet so the bound wouldn’t press at him and wake him prematurely.

She must have fallen asleep at some point, although she could not recall doing so. It was suddenly just morning, and Lucian was dressing and had a great number of her clothes strewn about the room, eyeing them all with a critical eye.

It should have been insulting, but she found it all rather amusing in her tired state. She might have pulled the blankets higher about her, and answered his questions about if a particular piece was inner or outer wear, and his eyes grew more judgemental as they grew thinner with finer bits of lace about the edges. “For summers,” she’d murmured, watching his eyes widen and his eyes drift over her form. Not that there was anything to see, huddled as she was beneath the quilts.

But she liked to think he was imagining it. Imagining her in nothing but that shift, with bits of lace about her throat and at her elbows. There would have been at least another layer beneath, as well as bindings about her midsection, but he needn’t know that. Let him think she’d prance about in nothing but a gossamer shift and let him growl at her all he liked.

But he was focused, and he hadn’t pounced on her. Just muttered something under his breath that might have sounded a bit like a complaint, but she merely smiled and let him fret.

Only for her own fretting to creep in, no matter how unwelcome she insisted they were.

Which was precisely what she didn’t want. Didn’t want to be a hindrance, didn’t want him having to fuss and look after her because she was unconsciously nagging at him through their bond. “Just...” Firen hesitated, uncertain she should say anything at all.

He touched her cheek. Just once. Then leaned his forehead against hers. “Do you know how it feels? When you’re nervous?”

She would have given him an incredulous look if he was not so close to her. “Every instinct tells me to look out for what threatens you. It sets my teeth on edge. Makes me want to snap at anyone that even looks at you.” He pulled back, and she gave him a sheepish smile in apology.

“I’ll get control of myself. Promise.”

He hummed. Not in outright disbelief, but it did not sound full of confidence either.

She didn’t want to disappoint him. Didn’t want Vandran to reject him. Reject his offer of leaving. Not when it would mean so much for the both of them. Their more intimate moments aside, they needed something to go right. Needed this to go right.