Page 44 of My Soul to Keep

“Hey,” he hushed. “I’m not saying that because I don’t care.”

I knew that. I’d always known that. Fuck, I hadn’t had this level of anxiety since college, since the day I’d done that ritual and bound myself to a devil of all things.

I wasn’t sure what was going on with me, but it was starting to drive me insane. For days, my anxiety had been slowly creeping up to an unbearable level and coupled with the way Luc had been acting, I was ready to lose my mind.

“The green one,” he said, wrapping his arms around me. “I’m always going to choose the green one because–”

“It matches my eyes,” I finished, tossing the black corset to the bed. He said that every time.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to my lips and drying my wet eyes. “I didn’t mean to make you upset. You’re going to look fantastic in whatever you choose, baby.”

Another kiss, and he disappeared into the bathroom.

What the hell was going on?

Luc

I had to get it together.

I stood in our ensuite bathroom, splashing cold water on my face. With droplets dripping to the counter, I braced myself on the surface and glanced in the mirror. How Tate hadn’t put things together yet was beyond me. I wore my emotions on my sleeve, nerves paling my skin and sizzling in my eyes.

It’d been that way for weeks.

Ever since I’d made my decision. I’d spent the time getting things in place, making reservations and crossing every t and dotting every i.

Everything led up to tonight.

And I’d nearly made my boyfriend cry over a corset.

Granted, to him, they were so much more than corsets. They were his comfort; they were his happy place. In the months and years following our mating during Tate’s freshman year at CU, he’d found his comfort in his sexuality.

Sure, he still held onto his emotional support hoodies and sweatpants… and those fucking jeans that made me question my sanity, but exploring his femininity had made him so much more confident, and I loved to see it.

Tonight, I’d told him to bring his best. Only, I hadn’t accounted for the fact that he could feel my anxiety through the bond. Every worry about the night going well formed in my mind, and went right to his head. And the poor man didn’t even understand why he felt anxious enough to jump off a cliff.

With one deep breath, and a final splash of water on my face, I dried myself off and left the bathroom.

And I nearly stumbled right back into it. Tate stood in front of the mirror, twisting and contorting himself to try and lace up his own corset. He smiled at me, worried eyes glimmering. “Help?”

“That might be a bad idea.” Still, I sauntered up to him. “I might end up taking it off.”

“Then you’d make us late for this thing you insist that we go to. Would the guys really know if we didn’t show up to watch their kids recreate the wave.”

I snickered. Of course, that was only a story I’d made up to get him out of the house. Otherwise, he would have convinced me to laze around on the couch in our pajamas.

Or maybe nothing.

But Tate put his hands on his waist, cinching the corset in the right place. I got to work on the laces, tightening them enough to hold his shape but not to the point where he couldn’t breathe properly.

He could tie his corsets himself, and had done in the past, but I enjoyed helping him. Being able to lace each one up and tie it was an act far more intimate than anything sexual we’d done.

I tightened each cross in the laces, working my way down to the base of his spine. This corset was truly one of my favorites. It was solid black but in the right light, subtly reflected thin webs of green. His eyes were vibrant against the silk and his hair, now dyed permanently dark. After the Halloween ball, he found that he loved it, and so did I. It made his eyes more vibrant, but they didn’t need much help in that department.

“There,” I said, securing the tie at the bottom of the corset, taking the opportunity to wrap my hands around his hips, feeling the soft leather of his pants beneath my palms. I pressed in close, letting his scent ground me. “You look fantastic.”

My brain filled in the final word, one that by the end of the night I would hopefully be saying out loud. One better than boyfriend and mate combined.

“Fiancé.”