Page 122 of Sunder

The bond flared.

Pulsed.

And her blood along with it, her muscles tensing, coiling, then releasing all in a rush that left her dazed with it all.

She didn’t remember Athan’s pleasure, too consumed with her own. It seemed to stretch on far longer than it should have, so maybe that was his, as he coaxed out of the last of her satisfaction while he submitted to his own.

It had all happened so quickly. Or maybe it wasn’t. Maybe she’d simply grown too lost in the whole of it, where time mattered little, and there was only him and her.

When she had calmed enough to pay attention to more than the ebb and flow of her own emotions, she opened her eyes. Reached up and cupped Athan’s face. Kissed him once. Waited for him to look back at her. “Are you all right?” she asked, stroking her thumb against his cheekbone.

She thought he would turn on his side. Would nestle her close. But he did not seem ready for even that, instead curling his arms about her and holding her in the most intimate embraceshe could imagine. “I love you,” he said rather than give a proper answer to her question.

That was just as well. She’d never managed one of her own, either.

And because he needed to hear it, not just feel it echoing between them, she hummed. Brushed her fingers through his hair. “My Athan,” she murmured, and felt him shudder. Felt him retreat, which was a strange and alarming sensation as he slipped free of her.

But he didn’t pull away. Just held her close.

And she let him. For as long as it was needed.

???

He wasn’t sleeping. Which would have been fine, except something was tugging at her. He wasn’t doing it on purpose, but it was there. The persistent awareness that pushed through her unconsciousness, rousing her from sleep.

She didn’t bother opening her eyes. She reached for him first, worried he’d left her to go sit in the dark kitchen, worrying over things that didn’t matter anymore.

But no, he was there. “Did I wake you?” he asked, reaching out to pull her to him. Which was better. Especially since it quieted some of that insistent pull that woke her in the first place.

“Not awake,” she disagreed. Because she was somewhere in between. “But you are?”

They’d had a fine day. A lesson in breakfast foods before he’d gone to the infirmary to tend to patients. Tea with her mother in the afternoon.

They’d seen her father briefly toward the end of their visit. Her brother had been with him. Was that it? He’d greeted her with his usual politeness, leaning down to press his cheek to hersas a sign of familiarity rather than warmth. He’d given Athan the shallowest nod possible before he’d taken his leave. It was cordial. Expected.

By her, at least. Perhaps Athan had taken greater offense to it than she had. Perhaps he’d held out hope for a greater welcome.

But he’d seen perfectly ordinary when they got home. Attentive as always. Content with a fire in the living room and a quiet evening of separate reading.

Before she’d invited him over to share her chaise. Which then meant the book was not nearly as interesting as it had been a moment before.

And it had taken little coaxing at all before he laid her back on the chaise and kissed her all over.

“Just thinking,” Athan answered, his fingers combing through her hair. “I’ll try to stop.”

She snorted out a laugh, shaking her head as she nuzzled closer to him. He’d doused the light ages ago. Or what felt like ages. Which meant he couldn’t turn off his thinking quite so easily, or he would have done so. “And what has you so preoccupied?” She asked, reaching her hand over him and trying to give him a pat. It didn’t land on his chest as she’d meant for it, and she was fairly certain it was his shoulder. But he didn’t mind. The bond promised her that.

“I find... time with your family brings up questions. That I know shouldn’t matter, but...” She heard him swallow. “You should go back to sleep.”

There was the discordant pull on the bond again, and she readjusted her hold on him so she could pinch at his nightshirt and tug at it to regain his attention. “Do I have these answers?” Orma asked, because that mattered. He could tell her and they could lie awake, wondering together if it would make him feel better, but she would ply a little harder if it was simply a matterof him gathering courage to ask her. “Or would it take a midnight visit to my father to answer them for you?”

“I don’t...” Athan started, and she could sense him pulling a hand through his hair, his agitation mounting. “I don’t want to upset you.”

Orma wriggled. She truly didn’t want to sit up. Didn’t want to reach for the light. But she would if he was troubled. “If you’re upset, I’m upset.” Which might not be rational, might not be how things were supposed to be, but it felt true enough in the moment. There was no sleeping while he was bothered, and he would not leave her distressed, most especially if he had the power to set her mind at ease. She settled for nudging at him. For pushing all the love she felt for him through the bond—even if he did inadvertently wake her from her sleep. Which might mean a pained head and a sickly stomach in the morning, but she wouldn’t will that into being by bracing herself for it now. “Talk to me, Athan,” Orma urged, setting a lilting tone to her voice to coax him to share with her. “How bad could it be?”

Bad. She knew that. There were plenty of terrible histories for him to pull from, but she wouldn’t distract him by panicking herself. She must be steady and sure. Offer him reassurances rather than grow frightened and require from him instead.

“I just... wondered today. If... circumstances had been different,” her eyes closed and her grip on him tightened. “Do they only allow me to be involved in their family because we cannot have children?”

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