Smiling, he reaches forward and turns the meat.
I unfold my tunic, slip it on, then dash my loose hair to the side. Pulling Kaan’s málmr free from beneath the fabric, I let it hang between my breasts as I move toward the fire and sit on a boulder opposite him.
Averting my gaze from the flames, I set my chin in my palm and look out through the trees at my slumbering dragon. “You know,” I start, and Kaan’s ardent gaze lifts from his málmr to my eyes, “I do recall a certain promise that you wouldn’t get involved.”
He arches a brow. “You came tome, Moonbeam.”
The smooth confidence in his voice does something to me. Makes me feel hot inside.
I huff a low laugh as he reaches down, picks up a skein, and tosses it over the fire. I snatch it from the air.
“So … what’s thisuhlooyou spoke of before I left?”
His cheeks swell with a lopsided smile that melts me. “A thin braid. Freely offered.”
I give him a questioning look.
“You honor me by wearing my málmr,” he clarifies, gesturing to it. “Embellishing my hair with a braid of your own is the Johkull way of returning that honor. The tightness of the braid declares much about your intentions.”
“You want to wear my hair?”
His smile grows. “I’d rather wearyouevery dae for the rest of my existence, but your uhloo will suffice.”
It takes me a moment to register his meaning, but when I do, my cheeks blaze. That same heat spreads through my breasts, making my nipples pinch into painful peaks.
His gaze drops to my bottom lip as I pull it between my teeth and gently bite down, considering a slow stand before striding around the campfire to straddle him. After easing my undergarment to the side, I’d rip those twill pants, grip his heavy length, and work it in slow strokes until he’s ready to push up into my wet, aching core—
“Only when you feel comfortable offering it,” he rumbles past a knowing grin before he leans forward to poke the roasting meat, releasing more fragrant juices. “Though it’s important for you to know that until I wear it, I’m consideredunclaimed.”
“Really?” I arch a brow, pop the cork on his skein, and take a deep sip. “Well,” I say, re-stoppering it, “anyone who wants to test that theory will find themselves at the point of my blade, probably bleeding to death.”
His laughter rolls through the small camp, like he thinks I’m joking.
I’m not.
We fall into a comfortable silence as he turns the meat, tucking another dry branch on the fire that Ignos immediately swallows.
I look away, watching Líri slumber. Lift a hand to brush across my chest, as though to push past my ribs and physically nurture her presence within me.
“You’re certain the bond has settled? It should feel—”
“It’s even harder than it was before we slumbered.” I drop my hand and tip the skein from side to side, listening to the liquid slosh around. “Like a solid moon in my chest. There’s no recasting it now.”
I hear the faintest breath of relief.
“I’m glad you came.” I look down at the skein. “The pull to fall away with Líri was strong.”
Much as I hate to admit it, if this were some sort of character test, I failed. Took a step forward, then ten leaps back.
Had Kaan not come, I’d be more dragon than fae right now. As wonderful as that sounds, Kaan was right to point out that it would’ve been too much like submitting in a fight or refusing to even enter the ring. A small, knowing part of me would’ve hated myself, and that hate would’ve festered. Become venomous.
“I remember the feeling vividly,” Kaan murmurs.
I glance up. “What kept you tethered?”
A line forms between his brows as he looks at the sizzling meat, turning it. “The thought of never hearing Mah sing again. Or seeing her smile.”
He says the words so gently, yet it feels like a stoning.
