Page 19 of Origin (Deridia #13)

“You can climb on my lap anytime,” he told her, because she still seemed put out about it.

He hadn’t meant for her to flush all over. Hadn’t thought it particularly inappropriate of a statement, but then brought her hands up and pressed them to her cheeks, shaking her head. “You can’t just tell someone that!”

“Why?” Ellion asked, genuinely curious. “And I didn’t tell it to someone. I told it to you. And I meant it.” He tried to reassess, to decide if he’d missed something and it was hurtful in a way he hadn’t intended. “You don’t have to, though,” he added, in case that was the trouble. It wasn’t an expectation. Just a reassurance that he wanted her there. Wanted her close.

Or was that the trouble?

No. She liked his touch. His kisses. That was real, even if she’d said it just to indulge him. One of those, she’d said. Whatever that meant. If it meant a man that liked to hear he’d pleased her, then he supposed it was true enough.

She groaned. Which wasn’t the answer he was looking for. He wanted her to feel better—that was the reason for his coming here, after all. But instead, she’d flung herself back on the cot, and she stretched out. Her feet were pushed against his thighs, and if she was in a more jovial mood, he might have teased her about kicking him off the bed. But she wasn’t, and something had happened, and he didn’t know what.

So he sat back. Kicked off his boots. Brought her legs up and settled her feet across his lap, and waited for her to talk to him.

It felt strangely intimate, to be seated like that. For her to feel safe enough to recline. For her not to be alarmed when he got more comfortable in her bed.

“Now who’s brooding?” he teased, watching her carefully for signs of true offence.

“I never said you were brooding,” she complained. “Although it’s true, now that you mention it.”

His lips quirked of their own accord, but he tried to stifle it. To look as stern as she was with him when she bossed him about. “Talk,” he insisted. “So you feel better.” The order was softened by his attempt to match her tone and timbre, and he was rewarded with her laugh. Then a snort. Then her hands covering her face. He held her ankles lightly in case she curl up and roll away from him. Hide as much as she clearly wanted to. Which perhaps was wrong. She could do what she liked, after all.

But if he was allowed to be selfish, he wanted her just like this.

Only improved if her mood was better. “Talk to me,” he tried again, this time in his normal voice. “Did I do something wrong?”

Another snort, but her hands fell away, and she looked at him properly. So he could see she was sincere. “No,” Hana insisted. “It’s me. Or not me. Partly me,” she settled on. “A lot, someone else.”

A weight settled in his belly. Dread, he decided.

His throat was too tight and his heart raced for all the wrong reasons, but he was deliberate in his efforts to remain as calm as he could. “Someone here?” he asked, pretending it didn’t matter.

A man, someone? A cowardly one, if he hadn’t approached as Ellion had become closer to her. Unless he was in the tunnels. And she was waiting for him.

No. He couldn’t jump to conclusions. Let her talk. His job was to listen. To help her through her own feelings, not drown in his own.

“Back home,” Hana clarified, and she wasn’t looking at him anymore. “We were betrothed. Which...” She laughed softly. “I couldn’t believe it. My friends were all married already. I was trying to qualify as a peacekeeper. Ironic, isn’t it?”

It might have been, but the position meant little to him. But it sounded like her.

“Anyway, the wait list was wrong, and I worked in a little restaurant downtown. They didn’t like bots there. Took away the charm, they said. So they liked people to wait the tables.” She glanced at him. Must have seen the lack of recognition there, because she tried again. “Bring out the food. Smile. Make it feel homey.”

“Ah,” Ellion agreed.

“He came in one day. Talked to me. Even asked me to sit with him, which of course I couldn’t. But it was... nice. Being noticed.” She was looking back at the ceiling. Her hands clasped over her stomach. A frown on her face.

It was at the tip of his tongue that he noticed her. That she needn’t dwell on some man from her life before. Might be better if she didn’t.

But he kept those thoughts to himself. He wanted to know her. The parts that came before. He would think of the burn in his chest later. The frown on his own lips. The way her ankles looked in his lap.

A breath. “You’re beautiful,” he said instead. Watched her blink. Roll her eyes. “Of course someone would notice you.”

Hana shook her head. “Thank you for that. But your perspective is... limited, at best. And I’m not exactly what was in the adverts, you know?” She made a vague sort of gesture over herself, as if he would follow her meaning.

He didn’t. At all.

Soft and lovely. Those were the words that echoed when he looked at her. Made his mouth dry and his fingers twitch to touch. To feel all over her beneath his palms as he smoothed over golden skin.

But his thoughts, his views, did not echo hers.

And he had to be gentle with her. Always. But maybe especially in this.

“Do you remember...” she began, then shook her head. “Course you don’t.” It was a mutter under her breath. Even so, it cut at him. “Sorry,” she offered, although he tried to keep his expression neutral. “Stories,” she explained. “Tall tales, my mother would call them. But my father liked to say they were real. I had a picture book when I was little. About how things used to be. Bonds and mates and how pairings were magic. She raised her hands and pushed her pointer fingers together, and he was awarded a glimpse of the girl she had been. The one with parents to read to her at night. One pragmatic. One romantic. “It seemed so... easy.” A sigh. “Head full of nonsense. That’s what my ma would say. Then had me read a book about terrace gardening, because you couldn’t starve if the power went out if you had things growing, even in pots.”

She was all over the place, and he was getting lost. Wanted her to go back to the man at her table, but also very much didn’t.

“Do you think we lost it? Along the way? Exchanged it for replicators and running water, and lost our ability to know when our mate was close?”

He swallowed. He knew less than nothing on the subject. But he knew the feel of her skin beneath his fingertips. Craved it like fresh air in the stuffiness of a dorm too full of bodies.

Distracting. Intoxicating.

“You think it’s lost?” he asked, letting his thumb creep underneath the hem of her trousers so he could touch her skin properly. Watched her shudder. Jerk, trying to pull her foot from his grasp.

Too gentle, then. This time he tried a firmer touch, and she quieted. Swallowed. Looked very much like she wanted him to join her up at the head of the bed. To kiss her. To situate himself on top of her. To remind her the past mattered only as much as she wanted it to, and what did it matter what offence she’d committed to bring her here? Not when they could build something. Maybe not for everyone. But for them?

He nudged her trouser leg up higher and allowed his palm rather than his fingertips to follow. Her breath came in short little sips, as if wondering how far he might go. How high he would press before he came to his senses. Remembered where they were, who they were.

“Don’t say things you don’t mean,” Hana begged. Which isn’t what he wanted for her. For them. For her to doubt.

“You think I don’t mean it?” he asked, pausing in his attentions to her leg. He leaned down. Placed a kiss on her ankle. The curve of her calf. Just below her knee.

“I don’t know what it was like before. If I lived in a city, and it cost me something to be there.” He skimmed his lips to her knee, pulling her down just a little, so he was granted better access. Sliding her across her blankets, watching her eyes widen. Not in fright—he didn’t see even a tinge of that. But excitement? Interest?

She liked what he was doing. “But I know you’ve bewitched me. You’re in my skin and I know I don’t want you out of it.” Her trousers would give no more, catching on her thigh and allowing him only an inch above her knee. That was all right. Any more and he’d lose his own senses. Forget his purpose was more than a greedy exploration.

“Ellion,” she murmured. Her eyes were misty, and he briefly wondered if he’d said the wrong thing. Pushed too hard. Expected too much.

But then she was reaching for him. Pulling him to her. Clutching at him in a fierce embrace. The quarters were tight, the cot too narrow to accommodate them both without him mostly lying on top of her, but she didn’t seem to mind. Not in the least.

Not when she nuzzled against him, and he felt slightly dizzy at the change. To feel her all about him. So different when they were lying down. Close to what he’d imagined, but so different all at once.

Urged him for more. To kiss her thoroughly. Then see about taking off his shirt. Then hers. Then...

She drew back, just a little. Enough that her mouth wasn’t pressed against his chest any longer. Shifted so he could have more space on the cot. Could look at one another. She’d been crying, and he hadn’t noticed, and shame flittered through him. Too preoccupied with his own thoughts. With sensations rather than the feelings of the woman that mattered to him more than anything in the world.

He reached out. Skimmed a few errant hairs from her sticky cheeks. “Do you want me back?” he asked, because he could handle the rest of it. Whatever else she said, if they could be clear on that one matter.

She laughed at him. Which was not at all the answer he wanted, but he could acknowledge how pretty she was with her eyes crinkled and her smile bright, even as he tried not to feel stricken at her response.

“Stupid man,” she muttered. Leaned forward and kissed him full on the mouth until he forgot he was hurt.

Which wasn’t flattering. Even an insult. But couldn’t quite be, when she’d looked at him so warmly. When she was pressing against him, not just with her lips against his, but burrowing closer. Her front to his, just as pliant and wonderful as he’d imagined.

Not that he’d let himself imagine too often. They were friends. This... more, was new. And he needed to be respectful.

She made that exceeding difficult, however, when she brought a hand to his shorn hair. When she skimmed her fingernails along the back of his neck, and a groan came unbidden from his throat.

He’d no idea anything might feel so good.

Her breath came in short pants, and his was not much better when she pulled back to allow them a moment. “I want you back,” she whispered. “In case it needs saying.”

It didn’t. Hadn’t.

But something swelled in his chest, and maybe it was very much needed after all.

She nestled back against him. And he wasn’t disappointed there weren’t more kisses. Couldn’t be, not when she was lying against him. Partly on top of him. When their ankles twined and her head was on his shoulder, and she sighed so sweetly when she decided she was comfortable.

“I had a point,” Hana complained. “And now you’ve distracted me and I don’t remember what it was.”

He hummed. Watched her smile as she caught the vibration against her cheek. Couldn’t help but play with the end of one of her braids, rubbing it against his thumb. “You were seduced by a book,” he reminded her. “You wanted a mate, not some man that sat a table and noticed you.”

It was the wrong thing to say because her cheeks flamed and she ducked her head until he could barely make out her features at all. But he could feel her tight breath. She was still tucked against him and hadn’t evicted him.

“Right,” she muttered. Took a full breath. Brought her head back out from where she’d hidden it. “Except I was being practical, and I didn’t know... didn’t think...” she glanced at him. Looked away again. “Anyway. He came in more often. We’d talk. He was... nice.” She frowned. “I thought he was nice,” she amended.

His hand went to the back of her neck, massaging lightly. She was tense, but it eased quickly beneath his touch. “Is that your way of delicately informing me he was cruel?”

She snorted. “Not in the way you’re thinking. He just had this way about him. Of putting me down. I didn’t see it at first. Just thought he wanted me to be better. For us to be better.” A huff. “Maybe I just didn’t want to see it. Because then I’d be on my own again, and I really wanted a partner.”

She’d grown wistful. As if it was something she could never have. Had resigned herself to being alone.

“And what am I?” Ellion reminded her, nudging her gently. “A stone caught in your boot?”

He’d meant to tease her out of her sudden melancholy, but she turned serious eyes up to him. “You’re more than I ever let myself hope for.”

Which was tragic and pulled at every instinct he had. To tuck her further into his arms, if it was even possible. To whisper every kind word she deserved and obviously hadn’t received.

There was the tightness in his chest. The one that should have been uncomfortable, but wasn’t. That felt a lot like...

“Plucked out of the sky, just for you,” Ellion offered, taking the end of her braid and tickling it across her lips. The one he loved to kiss. The ones that offered him patience and instruction in equal measure. The ones that smiled more often than they frowned.

“You’re going to distract me again,” she warned, and it was a gentle reproach. “I’ve got to finish this.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, to soothe matters between them, and she gave a little sigh, so he supposed he was forgiven. “You won’t remember this, but there’s a lot of restrictions on imports in the city. Mostly focused on communicable diseases, since there’s so many of us. Foods. Produce. All inspected thoroughly. That’s part of what a peacekeeper does. Protects people.”

Ellion nodded, as if he had any idea what they did or how a city functioned. Or how dangerous a piece of fruit or veg might be.

But he kept quiet, because she knew and he didn’t, and it was better for her just to let it all out at once. “Some people think it’s restrictive. They should get to do what they like, you know? And I didn’t know he was like that. I swear, I didn’t.” Her breath caught, the argument obviously one she’d given often. “It was just sausages. From a certain point a view. But they were a hazard, and he left them in my apartment. Told me he was fixing us a special dinner. For our anniversary of our betrothal.”

She wiped at her eyes. “And I let him, because why would I possibly think he got them anywhere but the grocer? But he hadn’t, and there were keepers at my door, and I let them in because I didn’t think I’d done anything wrong.”

He held her to him. Kept his thoughts to himself. “There was more. Tucked in my fridge unit. Other things he’d brought in, I hadn’t noticed. Or hadn’t let myself notice.” Another frown. “I thought it would be a fine. Expensive, but he’d take care of it. But he’d dabbled in the exotic meat trade, and one was on a special list for exclusions and suddenly I was being arrested.”

She was quiet a moment, and he thought of what she’d said before. How the numbers tattooed on their arms were what they said you did, not what you’d actually done. And there was a sliver of hope that maybe she was right, and it might be true of him as well.

“I told them the truth when they asked. But he... he said it was me. And the lot was in my house, and he’d used my identification number a few times without me knowing, so it looked like I went to pickups when I didn’t. I was so angry with him. With myself. And suddenly I had this prison sentence looming over me, and I was going to be a peacekeeper .” Her voice caught. Hitched over a sob. And he could offer nothing but his arms and a few kisses, but he would pray they’d be enough.

“How did you end up here, then?” Ellion asked when her breathing settled. When her grip on him did not seem quite as desperate. “You said this is for life.”

She wiped at her eyes. Sniffed just a little. “I’ve been to three prisons. Each one worse than the last. Overcrowding, they said. And I guess I’m not very good at getting on with people, so there would be... squabbles. Which meant trouble. Which meant a longer sentence.”

Her breath caught. He rubbed the back of her neck. The tight line of her shoulders. “I know my limitations. I was going to do something drastic, and no amount of telling me I only had ten years left was going to help. Not when they kept moving my release date.”

“Ten years?” Ellion repeated, trying to picture what she meant by drastic. Then trying not to.

“You know what’s awful?” Hana asked, as if the entire situation wasn’t terrible. “He would come visit me. And I’d beg him to tell the truth, to get me out of there, and he’d be so gentle about telling me how I saved him. There were men inside that would hurt him, maybe even kill him, and I was so brave for being there instead. He’d wait for me. And I could finally get to those workouts we’d talk about, and wouldn’t I be pretty for our wedding vids?”

He could feel his shirt wetting with her tears, and he didn’t know the man. Not his name, not his face, but he hated him. With every fibre of his being.

Cruelty didn’t have to mean a beating. It could be a twisting of word and thought and making her so desperate to be free, this life was preferable.

“They had pamphlets about this place. It would be different. We could build a life. Rehabilitation, not just waiting out a sentence. And he couldn’t come.” That part she added with a grimace, although he was fairly certain she was aiming for a smile. “I’d be...” He felt her swallow. “Free.” It was offered so softly he almost didn’t hear it at all. Full of awareness of how silly it would sound given the high walls that surrounded them. The guards that patrolled and killed with little compunction. To his eye, she’d traded one nightmare for another.

Except... that wasn’t quite true, was it? She’d found a way to protect herself. To do some good. They were lying together, safe in the moment. He was there to encourage rather than manipulate.

Perhaps if he had more to compare it to, he could find more to complain about. Perhaps he was an optimist, deep down. Able to shove away the horrors and keep only the good parts. The best.

Hana finding him. Holding his hand. Being bossy when he couldn’t get control of himself. The warmth of her against his side, counteracting the cool breeze of the open window.

A good day, he decided, all told.

“If he ever follows you here, I’ll wring his neck,” Ellion murmured into her hair. Probably not the best thing to say, but a truthful one.

She gave a hoarse kind of laugh. “Can you even imagine?” He could, which was rather the problem.

“I’m sorry this wasn’t what you thought it would be. You deserved so much better.” There. That was better. Most especially when she turned her face to look at him. Her eyes too wet, her cheeks flushed, but not from the pleasure of their kisses. He cupped her face with one palm and was rewarded with her closed eyes before she leaned into his hand. Trusting him.

His mouth was dry, and he was so thankful for her he thought he might burst from it. “So do you,” she murmured. And she meant it. Despite his doubts and his mounting concerns for the implications of his past.

She was utterly sincere. So maybe...

Just maybe...

He ought to believe her.