Page 49 of Sweetling
What changed?
Molly cleared her throat. Her expression had gone mild, hiding that wariness away, but he could still see it in the set of her shoulders.
He forced a pleasant smile. “Have you found everything to your liking still, now that we’re home?”
“Yes, thank you.” Her prim politeness raked down his soul like the sharpest claws.
When she said nothing else, there was naught for him to do but nod and let her be.
Pulling himself back into the corridor, Allarion stood before her door, wishing for something smart or interesting to say—but nothing came. Her sudden shift in mood left him on the back foot.
Was this truly who she was, someone who oscillated between warm and cool? If so, he had to learn to better handle the shifts.
Unsatisfied with that answer but having little else, Allarion stepped away from her door and down two more, to the third bedchamber he’d prepared. Opening the door, he walked into a room as finely furnished as Molly’s, but the air here was stale and cold. Even if she hadn’t added her things to the room, Molly’s bedchamber held a warmth to it, a vitality that this one lacked.
He hoped one day soon to remedy that.
With great care, Allarion hung the gown he’d purchased in the armoire. It joined several others similar in size to it, all awaiting Ravenna. She would prefer to choose her own things, of course, but he knew, after so many traumatic changes, it would be good for her to start anew, with things she could enjoy. Once she’d settled and healed, she could choose her own things, start making decisions for herself.
Until then, Allarion would make the house ready to welcome and support Ravenna until she was strong enough to stand on her own.
That frustration inside him wouldn’t leave, a stitch in his side that reminded him time was running thin. Every day Ravenna was left out there was another chance for her discovery. Amaranthe wasn’t the only enemy—she could be discovered by hostile humans, or worse, orcs. Prone like that, weak and disoriented from the deep sleep, she would be terribly vulnerable.
Everything had gone so well to this point. The land was absorbing his magic, helping siphon off the excess he gathered. The house grew more alive every day, and one day soon, it would be repaired. Although still somewhat empty, it was for all of them, him, Molly, Bellarand, and Ravenna, to fill this home together. Their home and house would be small, but it was theirs. Away from Amaranthe’s influence.
Patience. He just had to have patience. It’d served him well so far. The Twins had guided his path, he was sure of it. That he happened to be in Dundúran that day, that he should happen to see Molly at that very spot…it was far more than coincidence. As goddesses of destruction and rebirth, war and love, sun and moon, the Twins knew all and saw all. Duality was in their nature, and so they blessed worthy fae with anazai,their perfect match to magic, soul, and spirit.
After waiting so long, feeling how the magic of the faelands was turning rancid, Allarion had had little hope of such a match. He could still hardly believe he’d found hisazai,his fated one, in a human, nor that she was here, in his home.
He just had to convince her she wanted to be there. To be with him.
There was that frustration, gnawing at him again.
Goddesses, guide me just a little more. How do I win her heart?
He would never let the stores go low again. He would tell her next time when he had to take a long sleep. He would convince Bellarand to apologize…somehow.
Allarion’s head turned at the sound of approaching feet, his brows lifting in surprise to see Molly push open the door to the chamber. She looked about the space, her gaze finally falling on the armoire full of gowns.
A frown cracked her face, and she folded her arms beneath her impressive bust.
His gaze fell to her chest, admiring how the movement pushed up her pretty breasts. So distracted was he with the sight and his aching fangs, he hardly understood her question.
“Is there another bride I should know about?”
With effort, he peeled his attention back to her face, her expression there growing more dangerous by the moment.
“Of course not,” he said.
What a ridiculous thing to ask. He’d made himself very clear that he wantedher,that he intended to wed and mateher.
Has she not heard me?
Or worse…
Does she not believe me?
Closing the armoire door, he strode toward Molly. She watched him come, holding her ground. Desperate for any hope, frustration goading him, Allarion set his forearm on the doorframe to loom above her, caging her in with his larger form.
