Page 108 of Bound

There was light left when they got home. When they got to her home she reminded herself, but it seemed more habit than vehement assurance. Thorn turned his head at their approach but seemed to recognise her at a distance for he did not move from his place, the grimbles beginning to make little mounds about the pasture as dusk settled.

Not in their burrow, not yet. But soon the nights would grow cold and they’d want the warmth of being all together.

She craned her neck about, trying to find some evidence of what he’d done. It would have bothered her, before, to know he’d come back here without her. Fiddled without express permission.

But there was a thrill in her belly. Something different to the twisting nerves she’d grown so accustomed to. An excitement for a surprise, and yes, the assurance that it would be a good thing.

He landed. A gentle movement that set her back to squirming as she wanted to go explore what he’d done. He let her down with a chuckle, but grabbed hold of her hand when she went toward the pasture.

“Not over there,” he urged, bringing her back toward the house.

The first sun had set. The second would soon follow. But its light was warm, if dim. And it was more than enough to see that something had been added to this porch of hers. The one that wasn’t a room, but evidently could be used as one if her new additions were any indication.

“They’ll need cushions, but I think they’re rather comfortable as they are. Not that one is for me. Your father, maybe?”

She swallowed, feeling strange as she looked at the way her new porch had altered the look of her home.

How it altered further still by the three chairs waiting there. One remarkably smaller than the other two.

That one was shaped differently. It did not have two curved boards at the bottom. Didn’t have a portion cut out for wings to nestle neatly.

“You made a seat for Merryweather,” she breathed out. Oh yes, there would be a cushion. Blankets too as the weather turned colder.

“I don’t doubt she’ll steal one of the large ones. But it seemed only right she have a place all her own.”

His hand was still around hers. Warm and lightly calloused. Solid and steady when she felt suddenly anything but. “Do you like it?” he asked, a bit soft, a bit uncertain.

He’d asked her for a scrap earlier. Some comfort, some assurance that she even liked him.

What was she to do when she felt the swell in her heart, when tears filled her eyes that had nothing to do with mothers or fathers, or cads and wretches?

And had a great deal to do with the life she saw settled there.

The one she suddenly wanted so very badly.

The one that still frightened her more than she could say.

She didn’t want her father on that porch with her. She wanted a cool morning and Braum beside her, Merryweather bathing on her cushioned throne as she glanced at them every once in a while. Just to see if they were there with her.

A mate had done that.

Not a scoundrel looking to take advantage of her bed and her mourning.

A mate.

Her mate?

She chewed hard at her lip and struggled with what she might say. Nothing had changed, after all. Or maybe everything had.

She believed him. It was real.

That compulsion he felt toward her, the one that said she was the one for him, the one he needed to care for, to protect, to provide for. That was... her.

He didn’t want her coins. He wanted her biscuits and her smiles, and to know that he’d done well.

That he’d pleased her.

Her heart was beating too quickly, and her hands were shaking.