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Nur basks in the feeling washing over him that’s suspiciously like happiness. “I do want something.”
“What is it?”
“Hold me,” he orders.
Arsene buries his face in the crook of Nur’s jaw, but Nur feels his lips curve into a smile.
If I’m yours, that means you’re mine.
Chapter 35
ARSENE
Nur’s heatleaves him wrung out and empty, but they don’t have time to nest down the way Arsene would prefer. What Nurdeservesis a safe place, just the two of them hidden away, surrounded by soft things, bright colors, toys to make their time go faster—or slower. A place to clean and groom each other. Endless opportunities for Arsene to obey Nur’s every whim, satisfying him in all the ways that make him melt and sigh. But those are the urges of a primus who thinks he’s seeded his mate with a pup. Logically, Arsene knows he hasn’t. He’d feel it. And that means as Nur’s heat fades, the thrall scratches at Arsene to fulfil a more pressing need.
He has to find a way to help Nur be free of his hunger. And to do that, they must reach the city.
Nur says nothing as Arsene begins packing, watching quietly from the other side of the tent. His bare knees are drawn up to his chest and he has Arsene’s comb, playing with it between his fingers. He’s somber again, but Arsene isn’t worried. The bond is strong. Nur accepted him.
“I’m never going to be the type of vergis you were waiting for,” Nur says out of nowhere, his gaze fixed on the comb flashing between his fingers. “Sweet and gentle. The type to staydevoted no matter what. I’ll still hate you sometimes, especially if you hurt me.”
The thought of hurting Nur—that his mate would believe him capable of that—is sharp and ugly. Yet Arsene sees past the words to the fear lingering in Nur’s heart. He keeps his hands focused on finishing his task.
“We might hurt each other.”
“We will,” Nur says, eyes glittering.
“But we’ll protect each other, too.”
Nur scowls. “I won’t stop telling you when you’re wrong.”
“I won’t always listen.” He shrugs. “And I’ll never look at a Hellbeast and see anything but an enemy. You’re the only exception.”
“Lucky me.” But Nur’s scowl melts into a smirk, and his glee is clear through the bond.
“Very lucky.” Arsene drops the bedroll. He grabs Nur’s ankles and pulls them down, exposing him to the faint light. “I also have the stamina of a primus—be gladthatstuck after I stopped taking the serum.”
“Oh, I am.” Nur’s cock twitches weakly against his thigh.
He drops the comb as Arsene licks a path up to the soft crook of his groin. He sighs softly, his legs falling open. Arsene has a flicker of pride at getting Nur to doanything‘softly’. He doesn’t need someone who’s tender-hearted all the time—he gets that now. He needs moments when Nur’s warmth is gentle and melting. And he needs moments when the heat between them is searing and brutal. When his primus can rise to meet the challenge.
They leave as the sun sets. The temperature in the Deadlands drops well below freezing at night, stealing the moisture from Arsene’s lungs, but it’s nothing either of them can’t bear. His blood runs hot. Nur’s blood, well, it’s borrowed from him.
The skies are clear as seraphim glass and the stars sing like sirens in his head. Nur unrolls the map Rhys gave him and frowns at it.
“He’s marked where he thinks the city will be. We can follow that, at least.” He hands the map to Arsene.
Arsene turns it one way, then another. No matter how he looks at it, the constellations are different than what’s in the sky.
“It’s no use. I can’t read it.”
Nur takes it from him. “The symbols map to angles depending on the season. The strokes are the hour of night. You can reference the angle and time to find the expected position of the star?—”
“It’s not that. I can read a star map.” He sighs. “I see the wrong stars.”
Nur lowers the map. His gaze is too knowing. “You see the stars of Old Yden.”
“All angels do.”
