Page 99 of Sunder

But it was enough.

Enough to make it genuine when she looked him in the eye. When she pushed as much of those aching affections back at him so he might feel them for himself. “I meant it,” she promised him, her voice soft and her heart a great deal more vulnerable than she cared to admit.

He made a strange sound in the back of his throat as he brought them back together. Not a hum, not a groan...

A purr.

Soft and gentle.

That turned her insides all warm as he embraced her, his arms so tight about her she could scarcely breathe. It didn’t matter. Not when she felt all his joy rushing through her as steadily as the stream in his back garden.

She’d done that.

Done something right at last.

“I have loved you from the moment you agreed to meet Brum,” Athan confessed, his lips near her ear. “All nervous determination. It was glorious.”

Orma tried to draw back. Or... tried to want to. “You should pick something else,” she argued. “There was nothing glorious about it.”

His purr grew even more determined, punctuated by kisses he pressed against her jaw. Her cheek. The bridge of her nose.

Absurd things that shouldn’t set her heart racing as they did. Shouldn’t leave her fingers twitching to clutch at his shoulders and urge him to do more.

“All right,” Athan teased, nipping at her earlobe. Which was decidedly inappropriate and should not have sent a shiver through her like it did. “Then it was the night when I woke to find you curled against my back, holding onto my arm like it was the only thing keeping you tethered to the world.”

Her cheeks felt hot, or maybe it was all of her. “This is a mortifying conversation.”

“Is it?” Athan countered, skimming his fingers through her hair while he played with whatever bits of skin appealed to him at the time. “They are some of my fondest memories.”

There was no apology in his tone. Nothing to suggest it was all a jest, and he was merely playing with her. “That’s...” she didn’t know what she meant to say, other than she felt flustered and bothered, and she really was dreadful at this. Being a mate. Being... amorous.

If that’s what it was?

Did he feel it, too?

She closed her eyes and forced herself to think. Or... it wasn’t about thinking. It was about feeling. Not just the way his skin felt against hers. The way he sought knots in her hair and teased them free with excellent care. It was the bond she wanted. Topeek into his thoughts and his emotions, so she would know she wasn’t alone.

He nuzzled against her, and that was distracting, and she was doing something, and he should just be patient and let her work. “What are you doing?” he murmured, his voice deep and soft and only for her.

Could he feel that? The way she was tugging, inspecting. It was harder than she expected, to sort out what was hers and what was his and...

Oh.

Because it was all a jumble of sameness. Of warmth and desire and those little hints of sorrow about the edges, about what had been and, most importantly, what might have been.

“I just...” she began, then stopped herself. Was she really going to answer him?

But he pulled back enough so she could look him in the eye, and he was curious and gentle and she was safe. With him. To tell him her thoughts and not simply rely on the bond to tend the difficult parts. “I wanted to know if you felt like I did,” she answered, so softly he might not have heard if he wasn’t so near.

But he was.

She was perched on his lap. Indecently so.

Her nightdress had slid upward to accommodate the position, and she was acutely aware of all of it. The feel of him beneath her, the press of her torso against his.

The way his kisses sent tingles through every part of her.

He gave an almost soundless laugh, more breath than sound. “And how is that?” Athan urged, pressing his forehead to hers. He could look for himself, as she had done. Could play with the tendrils floating about them, glimmering and pulsing in time with her heartbeat. With the pulse lower down she couldn’t quite account for.

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