Chapter 16 #2
The owner—a round-faced woman with graying hair—barely looks up from her ledger when we enter. Perfect. I slide a coin across the counter.
“Room for the night.”
She glances at the gold, then at us, then back at the gold. Her eyebrows rise slightly, but she doesn’t comment on the lavish sum.
“Room twelve,” she says, handing me a key. “Up the stairs, down the hall, last door on the right.”
I catch Astra’s eyes lingering on a colorful pamphlet displayed near the reception desk. Her fingers brush against it briefly, and when she thinks I’m not looking, she folds it quickly and slips it into her pocket.
We reach our door, and I unlock it to reveal a small but clean room with a bed, a washbasin, and a window overlooking the town square. It’s nothing like the royal chambers I’m used to, but it’s a thousand times better than sleeping on dirt in the forest.
“I can take the floor,” Astra says immediately, clutching her new book to her chest.
Before she can blink, I scoop her up in my arms and cross the room. She yelps in surprise, the book tumbling from her grip as I deposit her firmly on the bed.
“We’re both taking the bed,” I tell her plainly.
Her eyes go wide, color flooding her cheeks. “What? No! I’ll sleep on the floor.”
“Fine.” I lie down on the narrow strip of floor beside the bed, stretching out with exaggerated comfort. “Then, I’ll sleep down here with you.”
“Lucian!” She scrambles to the edge of the bed and stands up, staring down at me in horror. “You can’t—That’s not—Get up!”
“You said you wanted to sleep on the floor. This is the floor.”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it!”
I fold my arms behind my head, perfectly relaxed. “Then get back on the bed where you belong.”
She glares at me, her hair falling in waves around her flushed face. “Have you always been this clingy?”
The accusation stirs the primal part of me. Before I can think better of it, I’m on my feet and catching her face between my hands, my mouth quickly finding hers.
This time, she doesn’t freeze. This time, when my lips move against hers, she melts into me with a soft moan that goes straight through my entire body.
The sound undoes me completely.
I deepen the kiss, one of my hands sliding into her hair while the other holds her waist. She tastes like the meat pies we shared, like innocence and fire all at once. Her hands fist in my shirt, and when I nip gently at her lower lip, she gasps against my mouth.
“Astra.” I breathe her name like I’m laying claim to her.
She pulls back suddenly, her chest rising and falling rapidly, green eyes wide and confused. “I—We shouldn’t—”
“Why not?” My voice is rough with desire.
“Because...” She searches for a reason, her fingers still twisted in my shirt. “Because I don’t understand what this is. What you want from me.”
The honest bewilderment in her voice makes me step back, though everything in me rebels against the distance.
I’ve told her that I want her, that I care about her, but after everything she has been through, words mean nothing.
She needs time to see that I mean what I say—that I’m not Andrew, not her pack, not another person who will use her trust against her.
“I want you safe,” I tell her, which is true, if not complete. “I want you happy. I want you to stop thinking you don’t deserve good things.”
She stares at me for a long moment, and I can practically see her trying to work out whether I’m lying. Finally, she nods slowly and sinks back onto the bed, smoothing her hair with shaking hands.
The sudden absence of her warmth leaves me wanting more, but I force myself to move to the window, putting necessary space between us.
Through the glass, I can hear music drifting up from the square—fiddles and drums and laughter.
Some sort of festival, by the sound of it.
I’ve always found such things pointless.
Frivolous displays of community that serve no strategic purpose.
But Astra comes over to the window, too, and peers out at the crowd below. There’s a wistfulness in her expression that makes my chest tighten.
When I saw her looking at that pamphlet downstairs, I felt the same pull I’d experienced in the bookstore. The urge to give her something she desires but won’t ask for.
“You want to go?” I ask, leaning against the wall.
She jumps, pulling back from the window. “What?”
I push off the wall and reach toward her, my fingers finding the folded pamphlet in her pocket. She goes completely still as I start to pull it out, holding her breath. The backs of my knuckles brush against her hip through the fabric.
“Lucian,” she whispers, but she doesn’t stop me. “What are you doing?” she asks, her voice breathless.
“You want to go to the festival,” I say, unfolding the colorful paper. “You took this.”
She blinks at it. “I was just curious. I’ve never...” She trails off, shaking her head. “It doesn’t matter.”
“You’ve never what?”
She’s quiet for so long I think she won’t answer. When she finally speaks, her voice is small, and her eyes wander back to the event going on outside.
“I was never allowed to attend festivals. Or celebrations. Or feasts.” She blinks back tears. “So, I don’t know how I feel about them.”
Of course they wouldn’t let her participate. Of course they’d exclude her from even the simplest joys.
“Come on.” I grab her hand before I can think better of it. “We’re going to dinner first.”
She tries to pull back. “Lucian, I’m not hungry. We just had those meat pies—”
“Your stomach disagrees.” As if summoned by my words, it growls loudly again, making her face flame even redder than before. When she looks at her cat, I shake my head. “Let her stay here.”
The restaurant I choose is small but elegant—white tablecloths, candles, the kind of place nobles frequent when they want to seem sophisticated. The moment we walk in, Astra goes rigid beside me.
“This place looks expensive,” she whispers, tugging on my sleeve. “We should go somewhere else.”
The hostess approaches with a polished smile. “Table for two?”
“Yes,” I say, ignoring Astra’s increasingly frantic looks.
We’re led to a table by the window. I pull out her chair, waiting until she reluctantly sits before taking my own seat across from her.
“Lucian,” she hisses, “look at this place. Look at the prices on the menu.”
“Do you think we can’t afford it?”
She stares at me incredulously.
“You have my money.” I lean back in my chair, studying her flushed face. “Do you think I gave it to you without knowing how much there is?”
She fidgets with the leather pouch, not meeting my eyes. “I just—I’m not used to places like this.”
The server approaches, and I order wine and the house special without consulting the menu. When Astra starts to protest, I give her a look that has her snapping her mouth shut.
“Money is no longer a concern for you,” I tell her once we’re alone again. “The sooner you accept that, the easier this will be.”
“But why?” The question bursts out of her like she can’t hold it back any longer.
“Why are you doing all this? The clothes, the book, this dinner—What do you want from me?” Her cheeks take on that deep flush of hers, and she lowers her voice to a hushed whisper.
“If you just want to sleep with me, this is...a lot of effort.”
I shrug and then meet her gaze steadily. “I must be quite the scoundrel in your eyes if you think I’m doing all this just to get you into my bed. You must have quite a low opinion of me.”
She gulps and looks down at her hands. “I’m sorry,” she says stiffly. “I didn’t mean to—I don’t think you’re a scoundrel.”
The honest answer to her question would terrify her.
I want everything. I want her trust, her smiles, her soft sighs when she sleeps.
I want to see her eyes light up the way they did in that bookstore.
I want to kill anyone who ever made her feel like she wasn’t worth expensive dinners and pretty clothes.
But I can’t tell her any of that. Not yet.
“Can’t I want to take care of you?” I ask instead.
She stares at me like I’ve spoken a foreign language. “People don’t take care of me. Not without wanting something in return.”
The confusion in her voice makes me angry. Every interaction she has ever had has taught her that kindness comes with a price. That she’s only valuable for what others can extract from her.
“I’m not those people.”
The server returns with our wine. I watch Astra take a careful sip, and she smiles slightly at the taste. Quality wine, not the swill she’s probably used to.
“This is really good,” she admits reluctantly.
“Everything here will be good. That’s why we’re here.”
She takes another sip, and I see some of the tension leave her shoulders. “I still think this is all too much. And I still don’t know why you’re doing all this for me.”
Because you’re my mate. Because you deserve every good thing in the world. Because I want to watch you discover what it feels like to be cherished.
“Because I can.”
Our food arrives—tender meat in a rich sauce, with vegetables that taste like something other than survival. I watch Astra eat, noting the way she savors each bite like she’s trying to memorize the flavor.
“Good?” I ask.
She nods, swallowing. “I’ve never had anything like this.”
“What did you eat in your pack?”
Her fork pauses halfway to her mouth. “I wasn’t allowed to eat from the pack’s mess hall,” she says impassively. “So, I ate whatever I could hunt or forage myself.”
Rage burns through me, and I control it by studying the fork in my hand. If my mate wasn’t allowed to eat, I muse coldly, then her pack doesn’t deserve to eat. I make a mental note to cut the rations the kingdom sends to the Silver Stone Pack.
Astra is quiet after that, but she finishes everything on her plate. When the server offers dessert, she starts to shake her head, but I order some anyway.
“Lucian—”
“You’ll like it.”