Page 48 of The Sun He Buried

Baldr breaks the kiss.

“Sól.”

I try to pull him back.

He stays where he is. “There’s something I need to ask.”

That gets through.

His palm is against my bare side. Skin to skin. The same kind of contact his bloodline uses to feed.

“Oh.”

“I’m not taking anything from you.”

I watch his face. “Can you?”

“Yes.”

“Even now?”

“Even now.” His hand remains still against me. “I can keep my hunger separate from this.”

“Would I know if you didn’t?”

“At once.”

I know what strength feeders give. Everyone does. Warmth, weightlessness, a body emptied of every hard edge. People in Sólvik visit certain houses to buy that feeling. Some return until they have nothing else to trade.

Baldr’s thumb rests beside my ribs.

“I won’t feed without you asking. And I won’t ask you tonight.”

“Why?”

“Because I want you to know which part is me.”

I reach for something light and come up empty. I kiss him instead.

His hand moves again.

Just Baldr.

That is what I want.

I pull the linen over my head and throw it toward the chair. It lands over the unicorn’s face.

“Sorry,” I tell her.

Baldr looks over my shoulder. “Did you apologize to the toy?”

“She’s seen too much.”

“She has no eyes.”

“That doesn’t mean she deserves this.”

He reaches past me and moves the linen to the floor.