Page 31 of Sunder

It would be fine.

And better than appearing before her parents in anything but an impeccable state.

“Yes, please.”

He smiled at that, his shoulders relaxing. He... enjoyed doing right by her. She tucked that notion away to study later once she’d slept and could think properly again.

“Right. One more trip.”

He did not ask, just plucked her out of the bed and took her to the washroom. She should mind. She should tell him she was a woman grown and just because of a certain bond they shared, it did not mean he could carry her about however he liked.

But the truth of it was that she needed it, and the idea of asking for the privacy she desired was difficult.

He left her alone with no need to be shooed from the small room. Just lit the lamp quickly and shut the door behind him.

The bolt was on the inside this time, and she used it with an excitement that startled her.

She’d never had one before. In case of emergencies, she’d been told. If she should grow faint and fall, they must be able to reach her.

He didn’t know that.

So she bolted the door and removed her clothing, folding it neatly. Then there was the matter of his shirt. It hung nearly to her knees, but that left one of her scars on display, and...

There was nothing she could do about that.

He could ask whatever he liked, but she need not answer him.

She used the facilities and washed her face, and although the water was cold, it was clear and tasted of nothing in particular when she swished about her mouth in a haphazard attempt to attend her nightly ritual.

It made her feel better, in any case. More like herself. He was thoughtful. Patient with her. Even if he did like to pick her up too often. She really should say something about it.

Later.

She did not want to have to learn the layout of his house, or worry about tripping over a Brum in the dark.

She unbolted the door and peered out, fully expecting him to be waiting outside the door.

It wasn’t disappointment she felt. It wasn’t.

She was just over-tired, and had liked the idea of being transported back into a comfortable bed with no effort on her part.

She held onto her bundle of clothing, certain the Brum would appear to formulate his attack, and her heart beat wildly the longer she stood there. The light from the washroom cast long, ominous shadows, and she should have doused it, shouldn’t she? Except what if Athan needed it also, and then he would have to light it all over again, but maybe he didn’t and...

“Sorry,” he called, doing up a tie at his shoulder as he hurried from the bedchamber. He’d changed into his own nightclothes, looking her over to find the source of her upset.

His eyes lingered on the scar on her leg, and she did her best not to squirm—to stand straight and allow him to look, becauseshe could not change it and the shame had no business flaring bright and new when its source was anything but.

“I didn’t know if I should dim the light,” she admitted, trying to bring his attention away from her bare leg.

“Oh.” It got him moving at least, and he brushed by her so he could attend to it himself before he picked her up again.

It was just the bond, that was all. It made her sigh just a little. To rest her head against his shoulder and let him do it, even when she was supposed to be reproaching him. The earliest days of a mating were most important—they set the precedence for all the ones to follow. Or that’s what Mama used to say. Back when she gave lessons about such matters, full of certainty that Orma would settle well, once she was old enough.

There was only one table beside the bed. The other was situated too near the wall, and it became clear he was giving her his preferred space. She should argue that too, shouldn’t she? It was an unnecessary gesture, because she refused to think of it as hers when it was his, but...

The water was here.

And she did sometimes awake with such a thirst it set her hands to shaking as she fumbled with the pitcher and cup beside her bed at home.

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