Page 10 of Fate

But there was a tension in him that gave her pause. That urged her to comfort rather than simply rejoice in the finding of him.

So rather than rub at furrows or clasp his hand, she touched his forearm instead. Just a brush of her fingers, and when he did not move away from her, she allowed it to linger. For her palm to meet the soft wool of his coat, also black as it peeped out from beneath his cloak.

She hadn’t stopped smiling. Should. Maybe. If he was unwell and needed her compassion rather than for her to prattle on with all the things she’d always imagined saying to him.

He moved then. Blinking once and his shoulders shaking once, as if coming back to himself.

His hand came to the back of her head, and despite the height she’d so appreciated earlier in the evening, he was taller still. Not looming, not as much as all that, but enough that he might look down at her, forcing her to look at him as he absorbed every feature of her face.

Perhaps he meant to kiss her soon. She wouldn’t mind that. Not even out here in the open on a strange stoop with an even stranger man that hadn’t quite spoken to her yet. Had made no sort of proclamation at all.

“Your name,” he murmured at last, and she relaxed into his hold. Liked the way he bent her a little too far backward, so she had to trust him to keep her balance.

“Firen,” she answered, more pleased than she could say that he was speaking to her. He had a pleasant voice, low as it was. Asif he was keeping it just for her. “Lucian,” she repeated, because she remembered that part. Remembered that it had meant nothing in that moment, and yet now...

He grunted, and she wondered if she’d been mistaken, but he shook his head and studied her eyes a moment longer.

Then stood.

Released her.

And she was sorrier than she could say for their contact to end.

But it didn’t have to, surely. And she didn’t have to ask, did she? If she was welcome because of course she would be. Because the bond would sing as it did for her. Would tell him how pleased she was to finally, finally meet him. To speak for them while they muddled through these first moments together.

She took his hand. Adjusted her hold just so until her fingers settled naturally through his. And she could not help the beaming smile as she glanced up at him, only a touch dismayed that he was watching it all with bemusement rather than pleasure.

It was enough for her to pause. To feel a clutching, horrid chokehold on her throat. “You do feel it, don’t you? That... I am yours?”

Another of his piercing looks. The ones that were too sharp and might have seemed almost menacing if not for the swirl of satisfaction that he was looking at her.

“Yes,” he answered, his voice too tight and a tinge of something unpleasant that she dared not put to name.

And what should have been a relief left her with more confusion instead, and she glanced down at herself briefly. She hadn’t flown. Not a bit. Perhaps the walk by the seashore had done more to her hair than she’d thought. He was immaculate in his dress, his hair trimmed neatly. His hands were smooth and not at all calloused.

She pushed away the unease. Or... tried to. This was new, that was all. Eris’s mate was slow in his speech—his every word carefully considered before it passed from his lips. Which suited them just fine, as Eris knew how to speak enough for two.

Firen could do that.

Goodness knew Mama had bustled her out of the kitchen more than once to help her father, and Firen suspected she’d done it out of want of a bit of peace from her chatter.

She had always imagined so much touch when they found one another. Had always imagined being pulled into his arms and wrapping herself in the warmth and safety that only a mate could bring. Even now, she ached for it. Wanted to solidify the bond insomefashion, even if she could not yet have the kiss she’d craved for so long.

“Do you want to go in?” she asked, uncertain why he was so still. Why he was looking at her in that way. Wanting desperately for some hint of approval to creep into his expression, some indication that he was glad that he had found her.

He made a sound low in his throat. Not quite a scoff, and not quite a laugh, but somewhere in between. “I did not wish to attend at all. There is even less reason for it now.”

She felt some of the tension ease out of her. He was talking with her, and there would be no need of any more fetes for either of them.

No more arguing with ridiculous doormen, either.

“Where shall we go?” she asked, her heart a little lighter. She glanced down at their joined hands, wondering if she should let go of him. Which wasn’t like her at all. She was a little too bold, Mama said. She acted from her heart rather than her mind, and sometimes that wasn’t always akin to politeness.

But there was that trepidation again. The one that wasn’t hers.

She frowned, glancing downward. It was... his?

His.

---