Page 97 of Bound By the Sleeper’s Harp

“Sugar…”

“No! Don’t—sugar me.” I backed up a step. “You should have told me, Bastian.”

I scrubbed my hands over my face, then wrapped them around the back of my neck, lacing my fingers together, looking up at the ceiling.

“At first, I assumed you knew. Then I figured if you didn’t know, there was a reason she didn’t tell you. And then I just sort of…didn’t think about it again.”

Pain filled the back of my throat. “Well, great! I’m glad you just forgot.”

Bastian’s jaw tightened. “I’m sorry, Elle.”

My breath whooshed out of me. This… This wasn’t how things were supposed to go between us. I was messing this up. I shook my head.

“No. I…” I let out a frustrated groan. “No. It’s… You don’t owe me an apology. Not really. It’s not your fault she didn’t tell me. I’m just…”

Looking for someone to blame. That wasn’t very fair of me. And for someone who had avoided relationships, I wasn’t giving him a good reason to enjoy being in one by taking my anger out on him and blaming him for this. I dropped my hands.

“You’re angry. I get it. I’m angry for you—that she didn’t share this with you. That you had to find out this way. And I’m sorry that I had to be the one to break it to you.” He took a deep breath, his chest expanding.

I nodded, then closed the distance between us. “I just—I don’t want you to keep things from me, okay? If you think it’s something I should know, tell me. I just… I hate that feeling, you know? Luke did it all the time, actually. Intentionally kept things from me.”

“Fuck,” he muttered, and his arms closed around me, pulling me close. “I’m sorry, baby girl. I know you and Professor Miller were close. Her family knows of me through the fae. That’s why they hired me. Given that she had witch blood, they wanted someone supernatural involved, didn’t trust the normie government to do an adequate job.”

“That makes sense, I guess. I’m… I’m sorry for snapping at you.”

"It's all forgiven." He tilted my chin up with a finger.

I nodded, then bridged the distance between us, bringing our lips together in a gentle kiss. I let everything about Professor Miller's betrayal fade into the distance—for now—and set about fixing the rest of my apartment.

33

Being in Eleanor’s room was like being surrounded by her. Her scent saturated Bastian’s nostrils, making his cock twitch in his pants. Everywhere he looked, he saw parts of her. Admittedly, it wasn’t much to see at first. There’d been no floor space when they first entered. This room was the worst in the house.

A flash of fury had his mind jumping to Luke, to all the ways he wanted to make that human piece of filth suffer. He pushed that aside, because that wasn’t what Eleanor needed right now, and set about mending broken furniture. Ever so slowly, her room reformed.

He hadn’t meant for things to happen the way they had earlier. It was his fault. He should’ve mentioned Professor Miller’s family sooner, especially given the way things were changing between them. Rapidly changing. It’s like everything was slipping out of his control and he was simply dragged along, trying to breathe, trying to function. Her presence made that almost impossible, made him forget things that mattered, made him want to do nothing but fuck her brains out.

He’d lost control. That scared the shit out of him.

He lifted a photo frame off the floor and fixed the broken glass. It was of a younger version of her, standing with her arms wrapped around the waist of a middle-aged man. They shared the same nose, the same eye shape. “Your father?” he asked, unable to look away. Her smile was brilliant, happy, blissfully ignorant of the future.

She appeared beside him, brushing a hand down his arm. “Oh, yes. I love that picture. We took it hiking. One of the rare times he pulled himself away from his work. He was a bit…obsessive.”

Bastian chuckled and handed it over. She gazed at it a moment longer before setting it on her dresser. His eyes lingered over her, over the graceful way she carried herself as she went back to the pile of clothes she was sorting.

He helped where he could, fixing anything else broken, then he took a seat on her chaise lounge, continuing to watch. Every so often, a small frown drew her eyebrows together. He constantly fought the urge to jump up and press his thumb to the crease, to smooth away whatever worries she wasn’t voicing. “Did you hike a lot with your father—when he could pull himself away, that is?”

She glanced up, clothing hanging limp in her hand. A strand of pink hair fell into her face and she tucked it behind her ear. Fuck, she was exquisite. His chest pulled tight, knowing she was his—entirely his.

It had never occurred to him—until this very moment—that he could simply sit and watch her like this, in her element, all day without growing bored. He’d certainly never wanted to do that with anyone else. Actually it was a wonder she hadn’t noticed how much staring he’d done since yesterday. Since⁠—

His insides went cold. He needed to tell her, especially after what she’d said. He shifted, trying to get comfortable.

He was about to say something when she spoke.

“My dad and I loved hiking together. I haven’t gone at all, actually, since he died.”

“We should go together,” he blurted. “I haven’t been in a while either, but there are a few great places just outside the city.”