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“Or two,” he agreed.
My smile widened further.
We ate as we walked back, our hips bumping against each other. Soft, comfortable electric zaps zipped between us with each small brush of our skin. Honestly, I felt so much more relaxed with him that it was almost ridiculous. Finally working through that tension and settling the connection between us made things feel so much more comfortable, even though I was totally horny.
And the electricity connecting us only served to calm me further, as if his body was telling mine that I was safe and he would take care of me.
I’d like to say that I didn’tneedhim to take care of me, but honestly, I did. I was a hurricane on my best days, and I needed an anchor. Priel was uniquely qualified to fill that position, because he got it. He understood my drive to create art when my emotions grew too strong. He wasn’t offended when I got angry with him, and didn’t let me walk all over him—nor did I let him walk all over me.
And he understood how difficult my magic was for me. Rather than hating it the way I did for so long, he talked about my dreams as if they were something incredible.
All of those things worked together to create a man who made my future seem bright in a way it never had on Earth.
And I loved that.
When we reachedthe cave again, we stored the fruits in Priel’s fae-style fridge. I grabbed a glass from the cupboard and filled it with water, leaning up against the cabinets and sipping at it while Priel stepped into the pantry and surveyed the contents.
“How long could we survive here without leaving?” I checked, when he stepped back out.
“A couple of years.” He shrugged a shoulder. “Longer, if the connection truly nourishes us when it staves off our hunger.”
Damn.
Maybe that shouldn’t have made me feel safer, but it did.
“Thank you,” I said, setting my cup down on the counter.
“For what?” He lifted an eyebrow, walking up to me and stopping when his pelvis met my abdomen.
“Getting all this ready. I know you didn’t do it for me, but being able to come here, and see all of this paint, and know that I’m safe…” I bit my lip. “It means a lot to me. Things haven’t been easy since I was brought here, but I feel like that’s changing. And I’m really, really excited about that change.”
“Good.” He captured my face between his palms and lowered his lips to mine. The kiss was soft, and slow, and blissfully sweet.
“I have a request,” he murmured against my mouth a few minutes later.
“What is it?” I grumbled, wanting the kiss to resume.
“I want to give you a tattoo.”
My eyebrows lifted and I leaned away, the kissing suddenly forgotten. “I’ve always wanted one. Or fifty. Is this a claiming thing, though? Like you want to mark me as yours?”
“It is.” He recaptured my lips.
I was pretty sure he was trying to soften me up, but honestly didn’t mind. His kisses weren’t going to make me any more likely to agree than I already was.
“What kind of tattoo?” I asked when I pulled away.
“I figured we could choose together.”
He brushed his lips over my nose, and my face wrinkled at the playful kiss.
His soft chuckle made me smile a little, though.
“So you’d get the same tattoo? Or I could choose one for you too?”
“Yes.” His hands slid down my arms, then the curve of my waist, before stopping to rest on my hips.
“Okay. Humans usually wear rings, on this finger.” I flashed him the fourth finger on my left hand. “Some people do the middle finger, or the other hand, but I almost always saw the fourth on the left. I’ve seen pictures of people using tattoos instead. In my favorite ones, they just use the first letter of their significant other’s name in cursive, sweeping across the finger.” I traced an L over my ring finger to demonstrate.
