Page 8 of Sunder

Strange, coming from him.

Enough to gentle her tongue. To cause her to reach out and touch his arm and give him a pat.

Placation, that was all. But one kindly meant.

She could and she couldn’t.

She could allow the threads to unfurl. Could let them guide her, lead her, full of intention and the bravery he claimed she might need.

She could set out with such hopes, only to find that her legs gave way at only half the distance. Heart open and bond throbbing in her chest, desperation flowing freely through her veins as she realised she would not make it. Couldn’t make it.

That the call for her mate would go unanswered, because he could not feel it. Wouldn’t feel it.

Not until she gave him his portion.

Until this tangle in her chest was shared.

Until the burden of it was not hers alone.

Lucian would help. If she asked it of him, he’d pluck her up even now and fly wherever she told him to go. And there she would appear, weak and wretched. Her mouth tasted of ash even to imagine it.

“Would you let Firen help?” Lucian asked, seeing enough in her expression to know she would not relent so easily. “If you don’t trust me to do it?”

She swallowed thickly. She had no desire to hurt him, even if she had no particular wish to confide her most intimate thoughts, either. He was family, one of the best of them, and she loved him dearly. But they were rarely in one another’s confidence. “It is not a matter of trust, I promise you. I know you would help me in any way you could.”

His mouth formed a tight line. “But you will not allow me to help.”

She tried to soften her eyes, to smile at him. To make him feel better, since she could not hope the same for herself. “If I was going to ask someone, it would be you.” It was as much as she could offer, and although his mouth twisted, his eyes softened,and she hoped they would part with no cross feelings between them. “You should go. I didn’t mean to keep you so long.”

Lucian shook his head with a sigh. “If I unlocked the door, would you stay until we came back? Have supper with us?”

The thought was an appealing one. It would give her time to rest before she was back in company. To make sure there would be more to her than weak smiles and wistful looks as she took in two of her favourite people.

She opened her mouth, full of thanks and placations, but he shook his head. “Thought not.”

She swallowed, his rightful assumption at her refusal stinging more than was reasonable. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, knuckles tight around her book. “I...”

He stood. Placed his hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently. “I don’t need you to be sorry,” Lucian soothed. “I need you to be happy. And you are determined not to let me.”

A lump settled in her throat, and if her eyes stung, it was simply the breeze drying them. “It’s not like that,” she protested.

He stood back, his left brow quirking upward in disbelief. “It isn’t?”

She refused to sit and let him loom over her—there were times to be small and to be badgered at, and it was not here and it was not with Lucian.

So she got to her feet, and stood her ground, and made sure she held his gaze as she chided him. “No, it isn’t.” Her voice did not waver and her hands did not shake, although perhaps that was simply because of her hold on the book. “There have been many who have insisted I find him. Ones that frighten me a great deal more than you do. And if I can hold them off, I can surely keep you from him as well.”

She hadn’t meant for her voice to tighten, for her temper to flare. She wasn’t sure she had any of it left in her, as her bouts of childhood indignation had long ago been tamped out.

Lucian appeared slightly taken aback by her outburst, and he said nothing for a moment.

Until her mortification spread through her, the words harsh and without merit.

Not true. Not exactly.

But he hadn’t earned them.

He simply was the one she would be safe enough to speak them to.

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