Page 89 of Sunder

She eased her upper body closer to his, and the bond did the rest. It was happiest when they were close. It eased her worries, numbed the subtle throb of old scar tissue. Everything was all right when they were like this.

She really did worry too much.

“I want to be able to do things on my own,” Orma confessed. She liked his warmth. Liked the ways his arms felt about her, the way he was careful to make sure her wings weren’t pinchedor crushed in his hold. He was thoughtful, in ways she feared she wasn’t. “Take care of myself,” she clarified, her throat feeling thick and her words inadequate. “Then maybe... maybe someday I might take care of you.”

Athan sighed, and she feared she’d said too much. “Please don’t fret about that,” Athan urged. “I am proud of you for wanting to test your limitations. But I would not have you pressuring yourself on my account. I am fine, as I’ve told you.” He propped his chin on her shoulder, and it felt strangely intimate to be positioned so.

“But...” Orma countered, then paused. She didn’t want to argue with him. She wanted more of this feeling of safety. Of being surrounded by him. “Isn’t it... natural? To... want to?”

He nuzzled against her neck, and her body had no business reacting so. “Of course it is,” he reassured as gently as he could. “It just isn’t necessary, that’s all. Not for you to fret about or push yourself too hard. And certainly not something you need to keep secret.” He stilled. “Did you think I would not want to help?”

Orma bit her lip, trying to explain herself without sounding ungrateful. “You would. Without hesitation. You’d put off your work here, and you’d go through every bit of food in your kitchen until I understood what to do with it.”

Athan turned his head, trying to look at her. “And that’s bad?”

Orma shook her head, failing to suppress a sigh. “No.” Then thought better of it. “Yes,” she amended. “Because then you’re my teacher.” His arms about her tightened.

“And that is bad?”

Her cheeks flushed, and she fought the urge to squirm. “Yes,” she managed to get out, a little breathless and a great deal embarrassed. “We’re mates,” she reminded him, no matter howunnecessarily. “So... you shouldn’t be my healer, or my teacher, or anything else.”

He hummed low in his throat. “We are mates,” Athan agreed. “But that does not mean we will not have other roles as well.” She turned her head and gave him a dubious look. “Imagine,” he continued. “We had met that day. And the bond had woken for me as well. Do you think there wouldn’t have been much still to learn? For the both of us?”

Her eyes dropped to her lap. “No. But that’s different. I’m supposed to know things.”

“And you will. Whether we find you the books you want, or you let me walk you through our kitchen and teach you about every single element until you could navigate it in your dreams.”

She bit back her objections. How much she wished she was a different person. A better person. Educated and skilled, someone who was... whole.

There was a strange feeling in the bond. A contentment but... something else as well. Pride? It wasn’t hers, and she couldn’t fathom what would have prompted such an emotion on Athan’s part. “You want to be my mate,” he whispered in her ear. It wasn’t a question. It was what he’d gleaned from her confession, and she should reiterate her point. Make sure he understood her position.

But she supposed that was the heart of it. Beneath doubt and feelings of inadequacy. She wanted him. Wanted to be his. Wanted him for her own.

She shifted so she might look at him better. “I do.” She waited to feel ashamed of herself. Waited to feel silly for such talk. But she didn’t. Couldn’t. Not when he was looking at her as if... as if she was something precious. Something to protect and care for. To... love. If she’d let him.

She wanted to. So badly.

Wanted to just be a woman that admired the man the Maker had chosen for her. Thought him handsome and kind and they were right to be together. That she wasn’t a burden, wasn’t a mistake. They were meant to be together. “I don’t want you to be sorry,” Orma added, because it was important he know. “I don’t want you to regret me. When you know everything.”

He wasn’t quick to dismiss her. Didn’t insist it was not possible, that nothing he read or learned would make him wish for another.

He sat. Absorbed what she said.

“Will you regret me?” he asked. “Healer that I am. From a bloodline not nearly as fine as yours. With a home inherited from a master rather than a parent.”

She reached out. Touched his cheek. “No.”

He turned his head and kissed her palm. “Then maybe, if it is within your power, you might accept the same of me.”

It wasn’t the same. Not in the least. But something wavered in the bond, and she realised it was a genuine concern to him. That she might wake one morning and find him wanting. Lacking.

“I do not...” she began, then hesitated. Swallowed. Forced some measure of moisture into her suddenly dry mouth. “I do not think we should... lie together. Until you’ve finished my texts.”

His head tilted slightly to the side as he regarded her. “Because?”

Her heart hammered in her chest, and she hesitated with her response. It was his turn to reach for her. To soothe and gentle. “Is it so I will not hurt you?” He asked it so quietly, his eyes keeping to hers, although she could feel the effort it took not to look for one of her scars.

Orma grimaced. “It’s not that.”

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