Page 23 of Sunder

“You took my tonic,” she repeated, this time the words coming out much better. “Give it back and you won’t have to worry so much.”

He followed the coastline. Away from the towers, and even past the bay where the merchants docked.

Then inward. Back toward the city. Still within the walls, which was a relief. Not that she intended to live there. Or maybe she would. She didn’t know much of anything anymore.

“Yes, I did. Because there could be anything floating around in there, and it might not be safe for you.”

She bristled. Which took strength she did not have, but it was enough to lean slightly away so she could try to look at him properly. Not nestle in close. Not let herself rely solely on his strength and find the respite she so desperately needed.

“You are not my healer,” she reminded him. “I have been taking those tonics for years, and I’m still here.”

He turned his head, and she could feel his pointed look.

She lived.

But barely.

She wilted, feeling chastened without even a word from him.

She did not bother trying to make out the district. Not even the position of his dwelling. It was too dark to make out the details in any case—the streets utterly lacking in the expensive moon-stone lamps that lined the streets by her home. She said nothing about it, because he could not help where he lived.

And if he thought they’d be welcomed in her parents’ tower, he would soon be severely disappointed.

The houses were not in tight rows when he landed. Golden light peeked out from nearby shuttered windows, but this structure stood alone. One building of at least two storeys, the one neatly beside, sprawling at only ground level. Inefficient, if one was particularly interested in architecture, when there could have been a few family homes nestled into the same space. But she did not question him.

He did not set her down. Instead, he walked boldly into the house, unbolted and without need of a key.

Which meant others lived there. Family. Parents? Or perhaps siblings.

He hesitated just inside the door, the hall dark without lamplight or gently glowing stones to welcome them.

The tower was never dark—there was always light to peek in through the shutters, or moonstones set by skilled masons, so the halls always were gently illuminated. She found this most disconcerting. A strange place and a strange man, the bond so quiet it was no comfort at all.

Footsteps met her ears, but they lacked the lightness she was used to. Heavy and lumbering, and she wondered what sort of kin Athan called family.

“I’ll put you down just for a moment,” he explained, his voice decidedly nervous. “You would be more comfortable in my bedroom, but I don’t...” he set her down, holding onto her long enough to be certain she was steady. She reached out, not toward him, but in want of the wall, and set her shoulder there for support. “Just... a moment.”

He left her side, and there were the sounds of heavy feet on the floor, and if she made a few shuffling nudges back toward the door, she did not think it unreasonable. She could have slipped out. Could have left him there with his family and his house, but she didn’t.

She would not risk growing lost in the city, without a tonic even to help her from collapsing in a gutter.

The light came first. The glow of the oil lamp was welcome.

The view of the beast in the hall was not.

She did not have to think. Her body reacted with no thought on her part.

It was large, and covered in fur, and although her mate was entreating something, she could not put meaning to his words.

She scrambled out the door, the latch yielding quickly, the hinges well oiled.

Back into the dark, which she did not particularly like, but it was better than being locked in a house with a strange man and his stranger beast.

She wiped at her eyes, her heart racing in her chest, and of course, he would follow her.

“I’m sorry,” he offered quickly. She wasn’t running—she wouldn’t make it. Her back was to the front wall, and she could recognise she was shaking lightly.

“Give me my tonic back,” she insisted. “Please,” because she had manners, and although she meant to be firm so he might know she was serious, she did not want him angry with her, either.

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