Page 46 of Sunder

She rolled her shoulders and took a breath, his hand falling away from her.

She didn’t miss his touch. She didn’t.

Her skin was sensitive, that was all. So the newness of gentle brushes and firm massages was... tantalising.

It certainly didn’t mean anything.

“You also ate little.” This he added with a hint of disapproval, and she rolled her eyes at him.

“So did you.”

Which earned her a smile, which had no business being as disarming as it was. He could convince anyone to do anything with a look like that, most especially when the bond warmed and settled so sweetly with his good humour. “Fair enough.”

He picked up the plate and took a large bite, and gave her a pointed look. She certainly was not so ill-mannered that she would shovel large quantities into her mouth simply to appease him, but she took up her bread and walked over to the door.

She wasn’t so brave she would open it without his presence, but she could peer out the window down to the beast below.

He’d shoved his enormous frame as close to the wood as possible, his too-large head lolling to the side to look up at her.

Had he sensed her? Smelled her? She knew nothing of the quality of their senses, but it was more than apparent he knew to look for her.

His mouth hung open, his tongue lolling out strangely.

Perhaps he was sick.

Surely he would not do that otherwise.

She felt Athan come up behind her. “Would you like to go out to him, or have him come inside?”

If she was willing to venture out, she could escape into the house if necessary. She glanced down at herself, remembering her state of dress. Was she really going out in such attire?

Her mother would be horrified.

Which didn’t bring her pleasure. Didn’t send a thrill through her that she was doing something brave and more importantly,different.

Wasn’t that what drove her to visit the fetes in the first place? Something, anything, that might distract from the endless monotony of her own life.

“I’d like to go out,” she insisted, although it was his hand rather than her own that settled on the latch.

“Right,” Athan said to himself. Then repeated it. Then pulled the door inward, the Brum getting to his feet immediately.

And pushed his way to the kitchen, ignoring her declaration entirely that their meeting should take place out of doors.

She had feared he might leap at her, might topple her over with his weight, but instead he came to her side, pushing his head into her hand as if fully aware he could manipulate anyone into anything. In between the great tufts of fluff were hard nubs of... horn? Either shorn low, or just beginning to grow in.

Athan followed, giving her an anxious look.

Waiting for her to run, she realised.

While the Brum seemed satisfied with the touches he’d forced, and went to his cushion and settled with a great huff.

Because he should have been there from the start.

And Athan was cruel for having ejected him.

She did not know how such dark eyes could express so much, but it was all plainly evident on his features.

She couldn’t lie—her heart was pounding. But it was harder to be afraid when it was lounging so, his attention drifting between her and Athan, before reaching his head up to bump against the table itself.

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