Page 51 of Threaded

His voice triggered Mariah’s memories; images and sensations from the night before racing into the forefront of her mind. Sweat. Calloused hands. Gentle kisses trailed down necks.

Hazel eyes burned away by tanzanite.

Goddess, damn it all, straight to Enfara.

She was sore in the best possible way, her body perfectly sated. But her mind … her mind was wrought with frustration, wringing itself with dread at the conversation she felt looming.

Mariah felt hands touch the duvet over her head, gripping it gently and pulling it from where it covered her face. Hazel eyes filled her vision, along with dark, unusually messy hair framing a classically handsome face. She couldn’t stop herself; she reached a hand up, running her fingers through the tousled strands. Sebastian’s eyes closed at her touch. She withdrew, but his eyes stayed closed, his face unmoving.

“Sebastian.” Her voice was soft, far softer than she knew she could be.

Finally, he moved, blinking his eyes open and staring at her with a look that both stopped her heart and filled her with a confusing fear she couldn’t bear.

This … this was too much. She couldn’t risk this pain, this heartache she knew she was about to cause him.

But she also knew she had no other choice.

“I … about last night.” She paused, her voice now showing signs of the tremor she felt, and took a deep breath. “I … you’re amazing. Perfect. Everything women pray to the Goddess to have one day. But … I don’t think last night can happen again. I’m so sorry, I don’t want to hurt you, and I truly don’t think I’ll be able to survive here, in this city, in thispalace,without you, but … I can’t give you what you deserve. I shouldn’t have given in last night, but … it was all just so much, and you’re not bad to look at, either, and now …”

He silenced her rambling with a calloused hand to her temple, his fingers shifting lightly into the roots of her hair. He leaned down and touched his lips to her forehead, as light as a feather. “I know.”

Her mouth popped open, and she blinked up at him, not quite sure if she’d heard his soft voice correctly. “You … know?”

Whowasthis man?

He smiled down at her. “Yes. I know. I know last night was …justlast night. And I think I distinctly remember telling you as much.” His smile broadened before his expression shifted to something fractionally more serious. “The first bonding has always been warned to be the most intense for a new queen. We’re all told of it, all know it in a theoretical sense, but … it’s something else entirely to experience it. And even with last night, and how thrilled I am to spend this time with you, I know I’m not your consort.”

Confusion and slight unease again churned through her. “You do? How?”

The corners of his eyes crinkled with his smile. “Trust me, Mariah. You’ll just … know. You wouldn’t have to ask me, and I wouldn’t have to tell you. From what we’re taught, it will be … unmistakable,” he said.

Mariah pondered that for a moment. “Does every queen have a consort?”What if I don’t have one?

She couldn’t deny the twinge of relief she felt at the idea. To not be shackled by a bond even more intense than the one shared with her Armature …thatwas what she wanted.

But then Sebastian’s next words tore all that relief to shreds. “Yes. Every queen has a consort. Just as Qhohena has—and always will have—Priam by her side.”

Mariah twisted her face into a look of incredulity. “And you’repositiveit's not you?”

Sebastian’s chuckle was low and deep. “Yes, Mariah. I’m sure. While you will always be so much more than I could’ve ever expected, and as incredible as last night was, it was only what I’d expected from the bonding—nothing more.”

Mariah let her lips curl into a joking pout. “I’m not sure if I should be flattered or insulted at that.”

Sebastian huffed a laugh at her, catching the amusement that was indeed radiating down that new bridge between their souls. The reminder of it was a bit of a jolt to her, the sudden realization her consciousness was now linked forever to his. She’d worried it would feel odd, uncomfortable, like putting on a pair of shoes that didn’t fit quite right. But … it felt nothing like that. Instead, it felt like she was on a raft, and the bond was a tether, holding her firmly to shore.

“Stop that,” he said. “You know damn well what I mean.”

She released her pout and smiled, still not quite over the shock of … well,everything.

“So, you swear that you’re alright? That we’ll be good? That nothing will change?”

That hazel gaze was so incredibly gentle. “Of course, Mariah. Do I seem any different to you now? Do you feel any less comfortable with me?” She shook her head, feeling andknowingfrom that bond he was right. “Then there’s your answer. I’m bonded to you—forlife. And not just for my previously short, insignificant one, but for the long one that’s ahead of you, as well. And I couldn’t be more honored and ready to serve you in whatever capacity you deem suitable for me.”

Tears again burned behind her eyes, and she fought to keep them from spilling over. She didn’t answer him, instead screaming silently to the Goddess, the gods, toanyonewho might listen, begging why she couldn’t find it in herself to feel romantic love for this man.

That dark voice which had been her companion all her life whispered back the answer from some inky void.

Because, Mariah … love is weakness.

---