Page 110 of Sunder

That she needed to say it.

Even with the bond swelling between them. When they touched all over, here and clasping one of his, her other buried in the hair at the nape of his neck.

He did not answer her, but he shifted again, this time wrapping his arms around her back and holding her impossibly closer while he buried his face in her neck. Her hair. While he mumbled something that held all the cadence of a prayer.

And maybe words failed him, but the bond didn’t. He pushed all of his love back toward her. Held her safely, made promises that didn’t require speech at all.

He would care for her the whole of his days. He would love her as best he knew how. He would give her anything she wanted. She had only to name it.

Her eyes grew misty, and it was all too much and not enough all at once. The feel of his skin against her, the tenderness of her feelings toward him. The steady stroke of his hips pressing against hers. Holding. Waiting. Then moving again when she was ready for him. When it pleased her.

Because he was paying attention.

Could not focus solely on his own pleasures, and they would have to work on that, because his were no less important than hers, and she’d already had some and yet...

Her hand moved from his neck to stroke along the edges of his wings. To the feathers she would have to help him tend in the spring months.

His movements stuttered. Almost halted, and then he was kissing her again. Distracting her from her explorations, which really was rude of him, but it was a complaint for another time, another moment, one when she could think and speak and there was more than this returning coil that promised her another release if only... if he’d...

She couldn’t say what changed. How his movements shifted. If it was something he did, or merely a shared feeling that grew and fed from the other until she was tumbling. No longer alone, but together. Always. When his pleasure became hers, when he grew still and she could only hold him as best she could, her legs clamping around him and holding him to her in ways that were highly indecent.

She didn’t care. Couldn’t care. The world felt different. She felt different. As if... as if parts of her that had been uncertain and doubtful were suddenly still. Quiet.

She was a mate. A proper one. Christened and everything.

She could please him, whether with a gentle word or by accepting his touches. By returning them when he’d let her and didn’t start seeing to her instead.

And there was the relief that came with it, all in a rush that left her gasping, first with something that felt too near to tears, then with laughter. Was surely worse, but it was bright and bubbly, and she was happy, and Athan was looking at her as if she’d grown a second head, and that made it harder to stop.

“And what amuses you so?” Athan asked, and while his tone was light, his eyes were worried, and Orma reached for himand pulled him back, kissing him all over. Because she wouldn’t have him cross, not when she felt so light. As if something had loosened inside of her. As if she could finally take a full breath after a lifetime of restriction.

Was that the bond? Or simply the nature of letting go. Of release.

“That I could be a fussy, ridiculous girl who was afraid ofthat. And that we get to do it whenever we please.”

He settled down beside her on the bed, and that was much too far. And he couldn’t be too cross at her laughter because he pulled her to him, tucking her into his side and holding her there while she nestled as close as she wanted. Modesty seemed like a part of the old her. The one that cared about decorum and what anyone might think if they saw them in such states. Or maybe those thoughts would trickle back in, once the hazy glow left her mind and strength came back to her limbs.

But for now, she let herself not care. Not about the blankets that would need to be taken to the laundry. Not the late hour and how important sleep was for her regimen. Although now that she considered it, sleep did sound like just the thing she wanted most. And perhaps something to eat. But not if it meant moving to get one.

“I want to stay just like this,” Orma continued, brushing her lips against his chest simply because she could.

“That would be rather cold come winter,” Athan teased. “I would have to build you a hearth.”

She hummed, feeling languid and happier than she could ever remember. It wasn’t simply because of their relations, surely. It was more than that. Or maybe it was all tied up together. That the bond was somehow renewed by their closeness. Bright and bold, their feelings flowing easily between the two of them, and she did not have to wonder if Athan was just as pleased.

She couldknow.

“It would be worth it,” Orma teased, skimming her fingers across the planes of his torso. Watched as his muscles clenched, his skin prickled. All because of a few brushes of her fingertips.

“Are you attempting to seduce me?” Athan queried, his fingers burying in her hair as he gently pulled her head up to look at him. “Already?”

He abandoned her hair in favour of running his hand down her arm, then boldly setting it on her backside. “Have I neglected you so completely?”

Orma ducked her head and refused to let the niggling concerns take hold—that she was greedy and ungrateful when he’d already pleased her so well.

“Can’t I touch you with no need for something?” she asked, genuinely curious. She’d keep that in mind if it troubled him. Or if itbotheredhim and not in the pleasant way he’d done to her.

She felt the very edges of a purr deep in his chest rumbling against her ear. And she thought it beautiful. Thought him rather beautiful, too, although she supposed that was not a compliment most men would appreciate.

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