Page 30 of Fate

He wetted his own cloth, then kept it running so she could do the same. “How?” she asked, thinking of kettles and hearths and even the stove that Da had installed after a particularly extravagant commission.

“Magic,” Lucian answered dryly.

She threw her wet cloth at his bared chest and was gratified at how it stuck to him before he retrieved it, scowling at her as he handed it back.

“A tank in the wall, heated by the hearth. Happy?”

“Elated,” Firen answered, wondering which parts of her she should wash first. Top down, she supposed. She rubbed at her lips, feeling a wistful sort of sadness as she did so. She did not really want to wash him away. But the book agreed with him, so she went to work. Lips. Her neck. And yes, her breasts that had returned to their earlier nothingness. There were no rippling sensations down her middle when she passed the cloth over the tips that had been so sensitive earlier.

But there was memory.

That sent fluttering pulses through her. That reminded her of what she’d experienced. That it had been real and glorious and would be theirs again.

She just wished she remembered what the book had said aboutwhen.

She caught him watching her. It embarrassed him to be caught. She could tell by the way he glared and his own movements roughened as he went down his stomach and began poking at the slit that hid his phallus. Would he bring it out again, just to wash?

Suddenly she felt a little awkward, suddenly realising why he might have wanted to attend to such matters without her watching him. But she’d been the one to insist, so she took the cloth to her own hidden places and wiped away the remnants of the two of them.

“I thought it would be messier,” she commented, wondering if she dared to dip inside as he had done to coax out any extra fluids she might have missed. But that felt... not precisely wrong, but a far greater show than she intended to give. Later. Perhaps decades later. When their eyesight grew poorer and the lights were dim, it wouldn’t matter quite as much.

“Did you?” He was exposed again, but it looked... different than it had. She could not explain why. Less... ready, and just...an organ. A part of him, to be sure, and he grimaced as he passed the cloth over himself, as if it was sensitive to touch. Which it would, wouldn’t it? She certainly was.

“Well, if we had towashafterward, I assumed there would be quite a mess. Although I suppose it did not mention the need for laundering afterward, so perhaps I was wrong to assume there would be quite so many fluids involved.”

Lucian rubbed at his eyes and his hand delved into his hair. She tried not to stare as the organ retreated, but really, it was rather fascinating.

But she’d promised not to be too nosey. Did that mean understanding male anatomy as well? She hoped not. But his expression was not exactly pleased, so maybe it did.

“Sorry,” she murmured, and found that she meant it. “I just... waited a long time to understand everything. I’m excited.”

He took the cloth from her and deposited them both in a basket, evidently intended just for such a purpose. “It’s just rather sudden,” he begrudgingly offered. Not a reprimand, not exactly, but a warning of his feelings.

She needed to be respectful. And keep her eyes to herself occasionally. And maybe allow him to use the bathing room on his own.

It was humbling. Enough that she wrapped her arms about him and hugged him close for a moment, just so he might feel that she truly was sorry for overstepping. For rushing him. She’d even wait to ask how long it might be before they copulated again.

Generous of her, really. Thoughtful.

“I am sorry,” she said again.

And was rewarded with an awkward sort of pat on her wings.

“For which aspect?” he asked, not exactly carefully, but with a weariness that had not been there before. Perhaps he was afraidof talking as much as she had become. To grow serious and allow petty differences to influence what should have beensimple.

Firen pulled away from him with a sheepish sort of smile. “Intruding. When you want privacy, I will respect it. Or... try to. As best I can. Just because we are mates doesn’t mean I expect we must spend every moment together.” She just might wish it. With all of her heart.

But it wasn’tpractical.Mama had reminded her of that with increasing irritation when Firen would sigh and sit at the table and insist that she could not imagine spending her days working with the children or the kitchen and only seeing her mate for mealtimes and evenings.

Mama would roll her eyes. Without fail. And more often than not, hand her a dishtowel and would shepleasestop her daydreaming and this was real life, and mating was not all fantasies and togetherness.

Firen had listened. Truly. While harbouring all sorts of her own ideals of what it meant and what it was for, and she couldn’t quite understand why her mother had not taken more interest in the workshop and most importantly, the man that devoted his skill and his work to it.

Another pat, this one settling. Which felt much better. More like a proper embrace where he might overlook her neediness. “I shall endeavour to forgive you.” Before she could work out if he was in earnest or if this was yet another tease, he pulled away. “Now, we sleep.” He grasped her chin once more and held her gaze—as if she intended to look anywhere else when he was talking with her. “I do mean it this time.”

She wanted to say that she was fairly certain he’d meant it the last time, too. That if she kissed him long enough, the bond would do the rest in coaxing him, that perhaps they might at leasttryto see if his body was ready enough to go again.

But she didn’t.

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