6. Scrub

Her heart fluttered, and very little of it had to do with fear. “You think my reasons are unfounded?” She did not try to free herself from his grasp, but she turned her head, trying to catch some glimpse of his face. “Tell me I’m wrong. That I’m safe, that you would never let them touch a single hair on my head. That you are glad of me, and proud to have me as your mate.”

There was no stopping the catch in her throat, the burning of her eyes. He’d do none of those things, she knew. But... he did not release her, either. And she leaned back into him, and let him hold her, and pretended, for just a moment, it could possibly be enough.

He was shaking. She hadn’t realised it before, but when his head settled into the curve of her neck, she could feel the shudder go through him. He pressed too hard, the bones of her wings irritated with the sudden pressure, and he must have felt the twinge through the bond, for he adjusted his hold quickly enough. Pressed a kiss to her neck as well, to soothe her. “Stop trying to leave,” he entreated.

She wanted to. Desperately.

“Give me reasons to stay,” Firen countered, as gently as she could given how hopeless she felt in the entire situation. “ Help me.”

His grip tightened, and his answer was a choked, broken thing. “I do not know how.”

How many times had he told her that? That he did not know what to do. And she’d listened. Or... thought she had.

She wriggled. Not to pull away, to flee. But so that she could turn about and take his face between her palms and make sure that his eyes were hers. Not glaring at her. Scowling and huffing and going on about families. But there with just... her.

There were answers at the tip of her tongue. Brutal ones, about forsaking dreadful people and their disgusting schemes. About running away and beginning a new life with only each other. Which was quickly dismissed because while she would gladly encourage cutting ties with his family, she would never consider the same for herself.

Which felt selfish and reasonable all at once.

She kept waiting for him to lead her. Guide her through this new life and all the uncertainties it held. But looking at him—at the way he grasped at her, held her, afraid that she would leave and he would lose her...

She took him at his word.

He did not know what to do for her. For them.

They’d given him no education in such matters. No room to consider that he might have to bend for a mate that came from different circumstances.

But she had.

Which didn’t mean she had to stay. Didn’t mean she had to continue to subject herself to his family and their suppers and the insults.

But it meant she had to try. Had to help him. Help herself.

“Would you let them hurt me? Let them try to sever the bond?”

He swallowed. “No. And I told them that.”

Something in her loosened.

“You did?”

She’d hurt him. Cut at him, without even meaning to. “You think I care for you so little? That I’d let them turn you into another Orma just so I could keep my place here?”

Her throat tightened, and she knew her answer, but it would only hurt him more. “I don’t know,” she hedged, and finding that was true enough. “I hoped otherwise. But I know they’re important to you.”

Even if she hated it. Even if she wished she could pluck out the love he had for them and give it to someone worthy. She’d not be so selfish as to wish she could hoard it all to herself, but maybe, in her most private thoughts, she could admit something close to it.

“But Lucian,” she continued, smoothing her hands down his chest, trying to keep her voice gentle, yet firm. “If that is their answer, there is no room for me here. Can you not see that? And we’re supposed to be in this together. So if there is no place for me...”

She let the rest of her thought hang between them. Watched his expression shutter, then harden. “And you do not see how that might be difficult for me to accept? That there is no place for me in the only home I have ever known?”

She brought her arms about him and held him close, because it was the only thing that worked between them. He’d said that. And she supposed she would have to agree until they could sort out this troublesome talking business. “I do,” she promised him. “Honestly, I do. But it doesn’t change that we need a safe place to sleep tonight. With room enough that we can talk about us and our future without all these other voices pressing in.”

“Your room in the shed,” Lucian groused.

And she nudged at him because her father’s workshop was certainly more than a shed, and she was not ready to be teased at the disparity in their family resources. Not tonight. “I offer us a comfortable place to be alone. Where I plan on being tonight. Where I hope you might be tonight, if you decide that I’m worth following.”

He sighed deeply, and his hold on her tightened. “It is not about worth,” Lucian disagreed. “I do not want it said that I abandoned my birthright. If he wants to push me out, that is one thing. It is another to simply walk away from it.” His hand moved up her back, his thumb brushing against the sensitive skin of her neck. “Can you appreciate the difference?”

Yes. No.

She rested her forehead against his chest and sighed. “I don’t think I’m ever going to understand your family’s ways. I’m not even sure I want to.” She took a breath and looked at him again. “But I do want to understand you.”

He smiled. It was just the slightest upturn to the corners of his mouth, but it was a smile, and his eyes were gentle. “And I would like to stop frightening you into running off. Perhaps someday we will both get what we want.”

It was her turn to smile, although she ducked her head, feeling a little bashful for reasons she could not name. “Will you come with me?” she asked, heart beating too quickly, bracing herself for his resounding no. “We needn’t think of it as moving. As anything permanent. Just... time. That’s all I am asking. I won’t even be greedy and ask for a season.” She could feel his retreat, and she squeezed her arms more tightly about him. “Or even a half-season.”

“If I keep quiet long enough, will we enter more reasonable amounts of time?” His words might have been a brusque dismissal if not for the way his fingers curled about the fine hairs at her nape, toying and smoothing. Comforting. Because they were alone, and that made it permissible.

There was a tug, a niggle. That his kindness toward her should not be relegated to hidden moments, stolen in between bouts of stiff formality.

She took a breath. Leaned into him more fully. Felt the resentment calm because they were learning. And things could only get better, as long as they were both willing to try.

“A week, then,” Firen murmured. “Just say you’ll come with me. Please.” It wasn’t begging. But it was an entreaty, heartfelt and full of need. To be home and safe and to pluck him away from all the wretchedness. To see if she liked him all the better when they might be normal. “I’ll not go any lower, so you can give your answer now.”

A chuckle without sound, but enough that his chest moved beneath her ear as she leaned into his embrace. As she prayed and braced herself for more rejection. “A week,” Lucian answered, not sounding pleased, not exactly. But he pressed a kiss to the top of her head, and he let her stay as long as she needed within his arms, so that had to count for something.

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