Strong enough to hold me carefully.
The contrast nearly short-circuited my brain.
His fingers wrapped around mine possessively as we walked the narrow forest path cutting through the restricted woods surrounding the Asgarheim Runevald Institute.
Moonlight filtered through black branches overhead while the auroras above the realm shimmered silver-green against the night sky.
Everything about this felt surreal.
Forbidden.
Wonderful.
“What about you?” he continued, thumb brushing lazily across my knuckles. “The way you say tawk and cawfee instead of talk and coffee is fucking adorable.”
Heat rushed straight to my face.
“H-Hey! Not like I can help it.”
“Hell,” he went on, entirely too pleased with himself now, “Luna, who wants you to help it? It’s fucking hot. Half the time I can barely focus when you speak to me. I practically have to walk bent over.”
I choked.
Actually choked.
Sten’s low laugh rumbled beside me, dark and satisfied, and gods help me—I swooned a little.
Internally.
Mostly.
“Really?” I asked weakly.
“Really.”
“Oh my gods!”
His grin widened.
And wow.
That should have been illegal.
“I grew up in Bergen County, New Jersey,” I defended, trying and failing to sound dignified. “It’s not my fault I have an accent.”
I was talking, responding, saying all the right things. But inside?
All I could think was, Sten thinks I’m hot.
And apparently my voice made his cock hard.
Holy shit.
“Well,” Sten said thoughtfully, squeezing my hand once, “my thanks to Bergen County, New Jersey, then.”
I laughed softly.
“Your accent is incredible, Luna.”
