12
Finn
Soleil’s thick, lustrous hair is soft and heavy in my hands as I pull it back from her face.
“You don’t need to see this,” she groans. “It’s okay… I’m—”
Her words cut off as she presses a hand against her lips and doubles over. She doesn’t vomit again, but it’s a near thing, and standing this close to her I can feel the tremors wracking her body.
Stupid.
I’m so incredibly stupid.
I should have slowed down and checked in with her more thoroughly. Even if it meant losing the group and showing up late to camp, I should have made sure she was alright with portal travel before subjecting her to that many jumps.
I should have taken better care of her.
“It’s alright,” she says shakily. “I think… I think I’m done.”
I drop her hair and step back as she straightens.
She takes the dark glasses she’s wearing off, and it’s impossible not to notice the shine of tears in her eyes before she wipes at them.
My shame grows even deeper.
I made my mate cry.
It’s only the second time we’ve interacted, the first time she’s really spoken to me. She trusted me enough to see her safely through the realm, and I failed.
“Sorry,” she says again. “I’ve been prone to motion sickness since I was a kid.”
“Don’t apologize.”
It comes out more gruffly than I intended, and Soleil’s eyes snap to mine. Still damp, but now wary and suspicious and just a little bit… hurt.
Fuck.
I clear my throat. “What I mean to say is—I should be apologizing.”
Her brow furrows.
“I should have slowed down,” I explain. “Portalling like that, so many times in a row, it’s not an easy thing to handle. Especially for—”
“Witches who aren’t cut out for it?” she asks with a sad, sardonic curl of her lips.
“It would be difficult for anyone who wasn’t used to it.” Unable to meet her eye, I turn my gaze downward and contemplate my own boots.
If you’d asked me yesterday, I would have confidently said I have a way with words. That I could talk myself out of or into just about any situation.
But apparently having one single conversation with my mate is entirely outside my capacity.
“I should… go help Vayla,” Soleil says, then lets out a small, shaky laugh. “And probably find something to rinse my mouth out with.”
“I’ll get you some water.”
Her eyes widen. “Oh, no. It’s alright, I’m sure I can—”
“It’s no trouble at all. Consider it my apology.”
Will she let me? Likely not, if she knew how much it meant.
Among demonkind, caring for a mate is one of the highest acts of sacred service. A right I absolutely haven’t earned with her yet.
Not that this really counts.
Water, just some water to help my mate feel better after I yanked her clear across the realm with no consideration for how it might harm her, is the very least I can do.
“Sure,” she says finally, stiff and unenthusiastic. “That would be nice. Thank you.”
Unable to find the words to let her know how very little she owes me her thanks, I give her a single curt nod and stride off to find some water.
Perhaps by the time I get back I’ll have discovered some way not to be such a disappointment to her.