Page 50 of Sunder

The kiss did not come.

But she was pulled into his embrace, the angle and his hold making her toes skim across the floor until they left it entirely. Supported utterly by him.

And he did not seem to mind. Seemed to... like it.

“As right as we can make it,” he clarified.

Which was realistic of him. Because she’d never be as she was. Never be fully... whole.

The bond glowed and hummed, and she closed her eyes so she was not blinded by the flares of shimmering lights. She had only to say yes. Had only to put her trust in him, and it should have been so easy. As natural as the next breath she took. He was her mate. He would never hurt her, never let her be tied down and prodded at and...

Her parents had.

The thought came unbidden, sharp and unwanted.

She couldn’t think like that. Wouldn’t think like that. They were trying to help. They loved her.

Did that mean Athan would do the same?

“I’m frightened,” Orma confessed, and it was easy because he was holding her so close.

He let her down, but did not move away from her. Kept touching her, kept his thumb at her temple, rubbing gently in just the right spot, and it was enough to bring tears to her eyes. He wanted to take care of her. Couldn’t she feel it? “Of me?” he asked, his voice so very gentle that it made her ache.

“Of what happened,” she clarified. “Of what might happen if I say yes. My parents wanted what was best and still...” she gestured to herself.

There was anger, and it wasn’t her own. And she reached out and smoothed her fingers along his chest. Because that wasn’t right. There wasn’t need for it. Everyone did the best they could.

He sighed deeply, shaking his head. And he was going to move away from her, would go back to his chair and talk of breakfast and Brum and she would be left with the guilt that she hadn’t been willing to try.

That she’d disappointed him with her trepidation.

She didn’t trust him.

Which was a horrid thing for a mate. Because she was horrid and broken and...

She took a deep breath.

The Maker had tied them together, anyway.

But he didn’t move away. Just brought her back into his arms and cupped the back of her head as she pressed it into his chest. The threads had no warmth, but she could swear she could feel them. Brushing against her cheeks, nestling and soothing.

Promising her in dangerous whispers she just had to say yes, and everything would be better. It wouldn’t be like last time, because to hurt her would be to hurt himself. And what nonsense was that?

“I won’t pretend to know their conclusions. Why they thought they were doing right by you with their actions,” Athanmurmured into her ear. Because it was private, and theirs, and the Brum did not need to hear it. “And I won’t speak against them,” although he wanted to—she could feel that plainly enough. “But it was wrong. Even if their reasons were loving ones.” Her tears welled, and she burrowed closer. “And I will not do that to you. You have my word.” He scoffed lightly and shook his head before he placed a kiss to the top of her head. “You can have much more than that, if only you’ll believe me.”

She was going to answer him. Going to give as much of an assent as she was able.

But a bell rung, sharp and startling, and she pulled out of his arms, looking around for its source.

“Door,” Athan sighed, a hand going through his hair as he glanced down at himself with a grimace. “A patient, most likely. Just... let me refer them to another healer. Don’t move.”

Don’t leave, was what he meant to say. Don’t slip upstairs and dress and escape out the window. Because he wouldn’t know where to follow. Which of the towers she called home.

She sank down into her chair, glancing down at the Brum. He did not seem bothered by the bell or by Athan’s hasty retreat.

But she was.

She passed him another crust, tossing it this time because she dared not get so close to his mouth without Athan to intervene.

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