As if sensing my gaze, he stops mid-swing and turns toward the lodge. Even from here, I can see the gold of his eyes, can feel the way they burn as they find me in the window. His nostrils flareslightly, and I wonder if he can scent my arousal even from this distance.
The thought should embarrass me. Instead, it makes me smile and lean forward, pressing my palms against the glass. The shirt rides up my thighs with the movement, and I see his grip tighten on the axe handle.
Then he’s moving, leaving the wood scattered in the snow as he strides toward the lodge with predatory grace. I hear the front door open and close, hear his boots on the wooden floor, and then he’s in the doorway of the bedroom, still breathing hard from his exertion.
“You’re awake,” he says, and his voice is rougher than usual, thick with something that makes my pulse skip.
“Barely.” I turn to face him fully, and his gaze drops to take in the sight of me in his shirt, my legs bare and my hair mussed from sleep. “You weren’t here when I woke up.”
“I needed to work off some… energy.” His eyes are burning gold now, and I can see the tension in his shoulders, the careful way he’s holding himself back. “Being near you while you sleep is… challenging.”
“Challenging how?” I take a step toward him, and he goes utterly still.
“Jessa.” My name is a warning, but there’s hunger in it too, desperate need barely held in check. “You don’t understand what last night did to me. To us. The bond is stronger now, and I can smell your arousal from across the room.”
Heat floods my cheeks, but I don’t back down. “And?”
“And it’s taking every ounce of self-control I possess not to throw you back on that bed and finish what we started.” His hands clench into fists at his sides, and I can see the way his muscles strain against his skin. “You’re not ready for that. Your body is still adjusting to the changes.”
“What changes?” I ask, though I think I already know.
“Look at yourself,” he says softly. “Really look.”
I turn back to the window, using the glass as a mirror, and gasp at what I see. My eyes are brighter, more vibrant, with flecks of gold that weren’t there before. My skin has a luminous quality, as if lit from within, and when I turn my head I glimpse the mark on my shoulder—no longer just glowing, but elaborate now, intricate patterns that spiral down my arm like living art.
“I’m changing,” I whisper, tracing one of the new patterns with my fingertip.
“The bond is preparing you,” he confirms, moving closer until I can feel the heat radiating from his skin. “Strengthening you, making you more resilient. Able to survive the claiming when it comes.”
“When?” I turn to face him, and the movement brings us chest to chest. He’s still shirtless, still flushed from his work outside, and being this close to him makes my head spin with want. “Not if?”
“When,” he says firmly, his hands coming up to frame my face. “I can’t fight this anymore, Jessa. Last night proved that. I’m going to claim you before the Solstice, and when I do, there will be no going back.”
The promise in his voice sends liquid fire through my veins. “Good,” I breathe, rising on my toes to brush my lips against his. “I don’t want to go back.”
He makes a sound low in his throat—half growl, half groan—and deepens the kiss with desperate hunger. His mouth moves against mine with a skill that steals my breath, and when his tongue slides between my lips I melt into him completely.
“Breakfast,” he says against my mouth, but he doesn’t pull away. “You need to eat.”
“I need you,” I counter, my hands sliding up his chest to tangle in his hair.
“Food first,” he insists, though his voice lacks conviction. “Then we’ll see how much self-control I have left.”
He leads me to the kitchen, and I perch on a stool at the island while he moves around the space with fluid efficiency. Watching him cook is almost as arousing as watching him chop wood—the way his muscles flex as he cracks eggs, the careful precision of his movements, the domestic intimacy of sharing this simple morning ritual.
“Tell me about the changes,” I say, accepting the plate he slides across to me. The food smells incredible, and I realize I’m starving in a way I’ve never been before.
“Enhanced senses,” he says, settling across from me with his own plate. “Increased strength and speed. Better healing. The markings will continue to spread until the claiming is complete.”
“Will I become fae?” The question comes out more curious than worried.
“Partially. You’ll keep your humanity, but you’ll gain some of our abilities. Immortality, eventually, though that takes time to fully manifest.” He watches me eat with intense focus, as if the simple act fascinates him. “Does that frighten you?”
“No.” The answer comes without hesitation. “Should it?”
“Most humans would be terrified of losing their mortality.”
I consider this as I take another bite, flavors exploding on my enhanced palate in ways that make me moan softly. His eyes darken at the sound, and I file that reaction away for later.
