Page 104 of Bound

Was it working?

She bit hard at her lip, but that didn’t stop the sob from coming. Just one, as she fiercely batted at her eyes and started walking again, hoping he wouldn’t see, hadn’t heard.

But of course he had.

He had a right to be cross. To be disappointed in... in her.

In a half-formed mate that didn’t have the right blood, the right bond, to know him back.

She spoke before he could. Before he could retract what he’d said, simply to placate her. “I do not know how to do this,” she reminded him. “I don’t want to hurt you, and that is all I seem capable of doing.”

He reached for her. Did not grip, did not grab, but allowed his fingers to skim down her arm just the once so she would know that he’d quickened his pace to follow her. “Not so,” he soothed. “You invite me in. You sit with me. Feed me. That counts a great deal, I can assure you.”

She turned her head, glum and not at all comforted. “That’s just good manners. Mama was very clear about those.”

“All right. But you did not have to listen to her. I’d like to think that you trust me, if only a little. That you can share your table with me and I’ll leave again afterwards.”

She shrugged, and he stopped walking.

“Wren,” he breathed, his own voice slightly choked. “I will take one of those scraps now.” She paused. Turned back to him. “Just a hint. A modicum of...” his hands curled. “Do you like me? Even a little? Is it really all manners and obligation?”

She blinked at him, her tears startling away for the moment. She never expected him to be so blunt about it, to... need that kind of reassurance from her.

He was so steady in his course. To come and be with her, even if he had to bargain with her for the privilege. No true mate would make the other do any such thing. His presence in her home would be a right. Just as he could insist she move to his as well.

There was dread, but a great deal of shame as well, and she closed her eyes briefly, hating that she couldn’t be what he needed.

But she could offer him the small truths as well as the big ones, and hope that he’d understand.

“I do like you,” she admitted, one hand at her braid, the other on the pack of her strap. She watched the tension in his shoulders ease even as it worsened in hers. “If that helps any.”

She trudged on. It was easier when she made the turn to the main road. When there were carts filled with goods and other people about to make talk about liking and mates and scraps less possible.

He trailed behind her for a while. She could feel it, even if she did not turn her head to look at him directly. There was more she should have said, she supposed. Perhaps she should have allowed the whole dreadful tangle to come pouring out of her. Let him try to make sense of it all, since she couldn’t.

But she felt the weight of it all the same. Coiling about with the usual nerves she felt when she passed through the city walls. She didn’t belong there. Never had, and never would.

Even if her father showed her his home. Even if she agreed to meet the rest of his family. It wouldn’t change who and what she was, that her presence was used as a cautionary tale for growing children. To wait for mates unless they wanted fledglings like her to spoil their future pairings.

She went to her usual stall without any great hope of getting to use it. But rather than the broken and splintered mess it had been the last time she’d seen it, it was restored. The wood fine and sanded. The roof shingled.

Her breath was tight, and she knew he was behind her, knew from the warmth against her back and the rapid beat of her heart. “I take it you pressed the Proctor.”

He hummed in confirmation. “You should never have been moved. This is your stall, for as long as you want it.”

It hadn’t been. It was Mama’s. Even now, she could picture her behind the counter, smiling and welcoming. Always kind, even when other people weren’t.

She missed her so fiercely, she ached all over.

But she didn’t say that. Didn’t chide him for intervening. Because...

She was rather tired of it all. The fighting. For insisting on the struggle for the sake of her own independence, when it wasn’t getting her anywhere. Only more weary, more rundown. More determined that she hated the city and wanted to avoid it in any way she could.

But she had creatures that relied on her. Relied on her for the goods they needed to be comfortable and well fed, so she made the trudge each moon and told herself she did not have to ever go back if she didn’t want to, even if it was all lies.

So instead, she swallowed. Stiffened her spine and made sure her voice didn’t waver. “Thank you,” she managed. Was rather proud of herself for it, although it was so small a thing. Which probably should have brought its own shame, but she tried her best to ignore it.

He softened. As he always did when she was genuine in her thanks. In her admission that something he’d done had pleased her.