Page 16 of Fate

In another life, with another mate, she would have pinned him to the bed. Kissed him thoroughly until the tension eased and his tormented thoughts quieted until only she remained.

But he...

“We are told,” he began at last, and she kept very still, afraid that anything she did might keep him from continuing. “That we are born to our stations. Tied to the blood, yes?” He tilted his head toward her and she nodded. She had never put much stock in all the talk of blood and its relation to the bond. Hadn’t cared when she’d been warned away from mingling with Wren and her half-blood. Born outside a bond.

An abomination.

She’d wanted to smack the word out of Old Henley’s mouth when she’d heard it the first time, but she’d settled on a scolding so fearsome that he at least knew not to use it again in her hearing.

“So if a mate is not... of similar station, then what does that say about us?”

She tried to be patient, truly she did. But it was all such nonsense that it took a full three breaths before she could respond in any way that wasn’t a biting sort of retort. “It says,” she answered as graciously as she could. “We are all of one kind under the bond. That there is something in my line that will strengthen yours. That our children will be the better for the both of us.”

Another scoff as he shook his head. “There are few that would share your sentiment.”

Her throat burned. “In your circles, perhaps. But I can assure you, that is a common enough view in mine.”

But that was the trouble, wasn’t it?

His scowl eased into a glum sort of expression, and it made it easier to slip a little nearer to him. To tuck his hand into hers and remind herself that they were meant for one another. Insults or no, they had to work things out. And she did not bother to see how he took it. To know if he grimaced or resented the closeness.

“I should like to accept your apology,” Firen murmured, tightening her hand just a little in case he tried to escape. “Should you care to give one?”

He made a strange sort of sound. Perhaps a laugh, although it came out wrongly. Too choked, and ending far too quickly for her liking.

“And if I do not believe I have done anything to apologise for?”

The words did not comfort her, but the bond was warmer than it had been. “Then you are a wretch. And I shan’t hold your hand.”

It was not a threat she had ever considered making before, but it was pertinent now.

He pulled at their hands, and she could not account for what had changed, yet suddenly it was her hand being held by his. “What a pity that would be.”

Her eyes narrowed, and she wished she could better make out his expression. “Are you poking fun at me?” Maybe later she would know how to read the bond. To look in his eyes and know that he adored her, so light-hearted teasing was to be expected. But that was then, and this was now, and she was still waiting for some measure of apology.

“No,” he assured her, sounding more tired than he had before. “I do not find this,” he held up their hands between them. “As disagreeable as I had imagined.”

Perhaps she should be offended by that, but the bond was humming between them, and it was... pleasant. More than pleasant.

She nudged him with her shoulder, because she could not let it go. Perhaps she should have. Perhaps it was a subject to be returned to when there was more understanding between them, but she couldn’t. Not when he’d spoken of her family so. Ofher.

He did not sigh, but their hands dropped, and suddenly it was hers keeping hold of his. “I should have known that... speaking of such things would upset you.”

Firen blinked once, slowly, and then turned her head to look at him.

The bond was not as pleasant as it had been.

It was Firen’s turn to laugh—an incredulous burst of sound that had Lucian turning his head to look at her in alarm.

“Well, yes, I suppose you should have known that. But an apology would be that it was wrong to have said it at all.”

His mouth twisted slightly. “It is what you will soon hear. Whether it be from me, or from others.”

She stood, releasing his hand. But she did not make for the window again, not when she could lean over and take his face in her hands to ensure he was looking at her properly. “Then if I must, it will be from others. But never you. Never my mate. Are we agreed?”

His eyes darted toward her mouth just once. But it was enough for her to remember that earlier desire. The one that bid her lean down, to claim him, to taste him. To seal the promise with something new and tantalising and solely theirs.

But he hadn’t promised, had he?

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