Page 20 of Sunder

She blinked, realising she’d misjudged, and it was soft sand beneath her feet rather than the cobbles she’d intended.

And he followed, rushing toward her with teeth exposed and arms outstretched.

Her brow furrowed, and she took a measured step backward.

His arms dropped.

His lips met.

Oh.

He’d been smiling.

And he’d...

Wanted to embrace her.

For as much as she’d felt through their half-formed bond for so long, it was suddenly—and almost blessedly—quiet.

How long had she prayed for that? When it ached and squirmed about in her chest, and she just wanted to sleep?

She wanted that now. Exhausted and weary and with no idea of what to do with a smiling man that wanted her hug.

His demeanour shifted almost immediately, and it was almost amusing to watch. When he turned from mate to healer, eyes drifting over her even in the near-dark, looking over any bit of her he could.

Looking for just how wrong she was.

There would be plenty for him to find, especially if he had a lamp. More particularly, if he was bold enough to pluck off some of her clothing and assess the skin beneath.

He moved closer to her, his steps hesitant. Afraid of frightening her? She shook her head, frustrated with herself, and considered delving into her pocket for another tonic. Something to keep her awake. To see what sort of man he was.

To endure whatever came next.

“Hello,” he said, and she blinked, not expecting such a simple greeting.

“Hello,” she answered back, voice raspy from over-use.

He waited for her to say more, but there was little thought in her head beyond keeping herself upright. She would not dare the flight back home. It would be a shuffling trudge forward. Back to her bed, where she would bury herself in her blankets and embrace the absolute bliss of a bond that was no longer struggling to escape from her.

“I’m Athan,” he continued when it was more than apparent she would not make the introductions. “And I think you need my help.”

Her hand should come over her heart. She should bow her head and recite the prayer of thanksgiving she’d found him.

She didn’t.

Wouldn’t have, even if she had the energy to lift her hand and murmur the rest of it.

But there was enough for a rueful sort of smile. “Do I?” It wasn’t a tease, although there was a lilt to her voice that was strange to her ears.

“Yes,” he answered certainly, taking another step forward. “Will you allow me to give it?”

As if it mattered what she wanted.

The wind blew cool sea spray up against her, and she shivered, and he dared another step. “You are cold,” he observed. No... he tested. Tugging at the bond, just enough that she felt it reverberate in her own chest. Saw it give a shiver of its own.

“No,” she answered honestly. She’s stopped feeling that a long time ago. She turned, beginning her shuffle homeward. It was a foolish idea—all sorts of stories trickling through her head. No new mate would even consider spending the night apart, and there was a sickly dread for when her parents heard of his profession.

“Where are you going?” he pleaded, closing the distance between them with less effort than was fair. “Why are you going?” he tried again, and that one was better. Struck harder.

---