Page 44 of Fate

Lucian snorted. “As I told you. Which does not explain why it would bother you so when faced with it.”

Firen’s brow rose and if her hands settled on her hips in a startling similarity to her mother’s posture when affronted then...

“Because I have a heart. Because I am a living, breathing woman. One whose mate merely tolerates her. Who would gladly lie with me again because that at least is notabysmal,even with my parents awaiting us downstairs, but does not have the decency to consider that perhaps it is his family and their prejudices that are what are wrong and notme.”

He sank down onto her bed again, his eyes glaring upward at the ceiling.

And it was almost enough for her to storm out of the room once more. To leave him to his thoughts and his sulks and let her find some comfort in the people dearest to her.

“I did not say they were right,” Lucian admitted, and it was enough to still her going, if only for a moment. “I only shared what I knew they believed.”

Firen’s throat burned along with her eyes. “And that is supposed to make it easier for me?”

He sighed, and when his attention settled on her, she could see that some of his anger had leeched out of him. “I do not want to lose everything I know,” he continued, rolling his shoulders as if there was a very great weight pressing down upon them. “Not for a girl I have only just met.”

“Your mate,” she reminded him, her voice quiet as she sat across from him on Eris’s forsaken bed. Made with clean linens, simply because Firen hadn’t known what to do with it after she’d gone.

“Yes,” Lucian agreed, but his smile was rueful. “You are that.”

It should make her feel better. For acknowledgment when he could have hurt her with denying it.

She shifted slightly, glancing at her trunk rather than look at him any longer. “Did you follow me simply to chastise me? Or was there another reason?”

He stood.

Walked closer to her.

Reached for her chin and cupped it with a surprising gentleness as he bade her look at him. “You think thisthingin my chest could let you leave in such a manner and not follow? That I could feel just how upset you were, followed by an icy plunge and a suddennothingnessthat could do nothing but terrify me?”

He... cared. Or... the bond made him care. Firen could not decide if there was a difference between the two, not when he was looking at her that way. Resentful, certainly. Begrudging to the extreme.

But there was something else. Something warm and... possessing. It should bother her. Should trouble her greatly. She was a woman grown, after all. She could take care of herself and her home and the family she loved, and yet...

“I know what it is to hold a bond with a mate against his will,” she answered, her heart hurting and her throat aching, and she wanted to kiss him and shove away from him in equal turn. “And I think I am lonelier now that I have ever been before.”

He grimaced, his thumb coming to her cheekbone where he pressed against it softly. “I am sorry for that.”

There was no biting comment at the end of it. Nothing that twisted back to him and his own disappointment in the arrangement. Just... he was sorry.

And there was no more burning in her eyes and throat. Not when she was suddenly crying in earnest. For all the hopes, all the sudden changes.

And she wasn’t the one that sought him out. Not in the embrace, at least. It was him that pulled her upright so he couldwrap his arms about her. He did not murmur little promises in her ear, did not stroke and press kisses to the top of her head. But he held her. Strong and certain, while he let her cry.

“My mother... she tried. Once. Not to drown herself, but... there were other means. She’d been quarrelling with Father for an age and then suddenly...”

Firen looked up at him, full of horror and her own apologies, but Lucian shook his head. “He knew. The bond, I suppose. And there were healers, and she mended, and things were more peaceful for a while. But it is... difficult. Not to remember. How... bad things can get.” He skimmed his fingers about her ear, touching the touches of lavender markings that swirled there. From her mother’s side. Not everyone possessed the trait. Her siblings didn’t. But she was fond of them. A bit of history to wear upon her skin.

“I wasn’t doing that,” she insisted. More gently this time. With less offence and more sadness than she knew what to do with. “I’ll... I’ll not do it. Next time. When I am vexed, I will...” Her brow furrowed, trying to decide what could possibly offer the same sort of comfort to her. Some liked to buy things. Little baubles to decorate their homes. But she did not know where she would sleep that night, let alone where the coins for her purse might come from. “Well,” she added at last. “I’ll try to think of something.”

She did not suggest that they would suddenly be so agreeable with one another that she would never be cross enough to need such a respite. She wished it might be so. That she could bottle the feeling of peace she felt when his arms were welcoming, when his heart was calm beneath her ear as she huddled there. Safe.

Wanted.

The bond flooded with warmth. How much was real, she did not know. But she craved it.

That was what seduced her the night before, and she feared what it might encourage now. They’d sorted nothing. Decided nothing. And she couldn’t go on pretending that was all right.

“I will attempt to believe you,” Lucian answered, and maybe it was not a kiss, but he placed his cheek on top of her head and it was... lovely.

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