Page 73 of Sunder

She swallowed, nervous and exhilarated all at once. “I don’t need you to,” Orma offered back, turning so she could climb the last two stairs on her own. “Because I don’t.”

And she smiled softly when the bond burst with something that felt a little bit like love.

???

Her chosen place was her bed. Which felt a great deal more like their bed once he was situated beside her. Under the covers, she said once she’d inspected the room and tried to decide what would make her feel best. Not just her, it had to be both of them.

He didn’t question it, just tucked himself in and let her fuss and fiddle with the blankets until she was comfortable.

The shutters were open, the summer breeze catching and filling the room, threatening to ruffle the loose papers if Athan was not careful with them.

She contemplated shutting that too, afraid their voices would catch and carry to some passing by, but she couldn’t abide feeling stifled and stuffy.

And the blanket was necessary. For hiding. Just in case.

“How would you like to do this?” Athan asked, as she kept to her side and he to his.

She frowned, looking up at the ceiling. She didn’t need to look at them at all. But then she wouldn’t know how much he knew, and what more she needed to tell him.

Her throat ached.

She closed the distance between them and was welcomed by his arm coming about her, stroking through her downiestfeathers. It tickled, and she squirmed lightly until her attention focused on the book he’d chosen first. The cover held dust about the edges. A cleaner came and wiped down each shelf every so often, but that only did so much to combat age and time.

She’d given him no answer, and his fingers delved and smoothed, applying a delicate pressure that deepened as he sought the tight knots at the base of her wings. Then up toward her shoulder. “I could read aloud,” he offered. “Or we just read it together?”

What she wanted was to scoop them all up and burn them.

They were hers, after all. Little bits of her spread out on parchment and vellum, ready to be analysed by any with access and the ability to read.

“It doesn’t need to be today,” Athan reminded her, not for the first time.

It did, though. Because she’d woken, tired and achy, and she’d wanted an elixir.

And he’d said no. Not until he knew what was safe to give her.

And round and round it went.

She did not want to delve into the texts until she felt better. He refused to make her better until he looked at the texts.

Until she’d been in tears and he’d given her a hunted sort of look because he wanted to help, wanted to give her anything she wanted, but he needed hersafe.Couldn’t she understand that?

Then he’d hugged her until the tears dried, and she’d agreed.

Which meant not burning them all in the kitchen stove.

And letting him see all of her, splayed and naked, if only on a page.

“You read to yourself,” Orma said at last. “I’m going to close my eyes and peek every once in a while and see where you’re at.”

His arm about her tightened. “All right.”

He’d have agreed to anything if he thought it would help her. If it meant she wouldn’t burst into tears and demand he give them back to her father for safekeeping.

She felt the conflict on his side. How he wanted to know so he might be a better mate for her. How little he wanted to open it. To begin. To know.

There’d be no going back, afterward. But maybe...

Maybe they could go forward.

---