Page 175 of Unmarked
And yeah. I let him.
No, wait - Ibegged him.
Honestly, if I had the energy to be mortified right now, I might be. But I’m also riding the kind of post-bond high that makes you forget your middle name and what year it is, so.
Lucian shifts behind me, still attached, still broody. He hasn’t said much since the knot locked in; just breathing like someone who deeply regrets having feelings.
“How long does this last?” I ask, hoarse. “I feel like a stuffed donut.”
“Twenty minutes,” he says, monotone.
“Twenty?”
“Or an hour.”
I blink. “An hour?!”
Pause.
“Unless you start begging again,” he mutters.
“Oh my god.” I groan into the pillow. “Do you have an off switch, or is the arrogance just hardwired into your DNA?”
“You bonded me,” he says flatly. “You’re stuck with it now.”
“Terrifying.”
He doesn’t reply, but the bond between us - new, raw, annoyingly warm - sort of thrums. Not hot. Not sharp. Just…there. Like the emotional version of someone putting their feet on your couch without asking.
And still, it feels good. Dangerous, maybe, but real.
Like it’s learning me. Like I’m learning him.
And the quiet roar of something self-loathing and sharp presses like a bruise behind my ribs.
I shift a little, trying to get comfortable without dislodging what is, frankly, a medical hazard inside me. Lucian makes a low noise like I’m personally offending him with my anatomy.
“What’s that?” I whisper. “That weird tension in the bond?”
He exhales through his nose, which I decide is Lucian-speak forI’m emotionally constipated but too dignified to admit it.
“You’re angry,” I guess.
“I’m not.”
“You so are.”
Pause.
“Not at you,” he concedes. “At me.”
I turn my head to look at him. “Because I didn’t wait for you?”
“Because I knew I wasn’t going to stop wanting you,” he says, “but I still pretended I could.”
Oh.
Yeah, okay. That one hits.
