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It's a gift. It's a gift, and it's also the cruelest torture anyone has ever devised.

"Are you certain?" Zarek asks. His voice is very careful. "You don't need to worry about our comfort. We truly don't mind."

"I'm certain," she says firmly. "Don't be stupid."

So that's that.

She disappears into the washroom to get ready. I spend the time trying very hard to think about anything else. Taxes. The trade agreements I've been ignoring. Zarek's feet.

Then the door opens, and she comes out.

She's wearing one of my shirts. Only one of my shirts. It falls almost to her knees, loose and soft, the collar slipping off one shoulder. Her hair is down around her back, and her legs are bare.

I try not to stare. I truly try.

And fail.

She's wrapped in something that smells like me. My dragon sees it, and something in it rumbles with deep, savage satisfaction. Mine, it purrs. She's wearing our scent. She's ours.

Down, I tell it. Down.

It doesn't listen.

We climbs into the bed, all four of us. Elara in the middle, buried in blankets. The three of us spread out around her with as much space between us as the bed allows. Which is a lot. Not enough. Nowhere near enough.

Zarek lies on his back on her left, stiff as a board. Kaelen's on the far side, past Zarek, so far over that he's practically hanging off the edge. I take the right, and I lie on my side facing her, because I'm weak, and I can.

The fire crackles. The candles burn low along the beams. Outside, the storm howls and throws snow at the windows.

Nobody moves.

I can feel the tension coming off Zarek and Kaelen in waves. Zarek is too still and too controlled. Kaelen's hands are fisted in the sheets. I can hear the mattress creak as he grips it.

And me? I'm a wreck. My dragon is pacing under my skin. Her scent is right there, inches away, warm and sweet and so strong I can practically taste it. Every part of me wants to reach across that little space between us and pull her against me.

But we won't. None of us will. Not unless she asks. Not unless she wants it.

So we lie there.

And she's not sleeping either. I can tell. She keeps fidgeting under the blankets. Turning over. Turning back. Kicking one foot free, then tucking it in again. Every time she moves, a fresh wave of her scent washes over us, and all three of us go rigid.

Her heat is keeping her up, too. Of course it is.

I stare at the ceiling. At the little golden candles she made me put everywhere.

I'm not sure I'm going to survive this night.

Then, out of the dark, she speaks. "Can I ask you something?" Her voice is small. Hesitant. Nothing like the woman who was bossing kings around a few hours ago. "I have a question."

All three of us go completely, utterly still.

And we wait.

7

Elara

I've lost my mind.