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Lyrena swung her eyes to me. “How did he do?”
I realized my teeth had released their hold on my lower lip. “Close. I prefer to sleep on the right side of the bed.”
More giggles and coughing and eye rolling.
Arran held my gaze over the fire. There was definitely a burning glow in his eyes that had nothing to do with the firelight. “Is that so?”
I actually prefer to fall asleep with you inside me.
His beast’s rumbling growl was all the promise I needed of what the rest of my night would hold.
For the group, I answered, “Closer to the balcony, where there’s more open air. He is hot as a furnace when he sleeps.”
“He missed one!” Maisri finally managed to get out coherent words.
Arran rubbed his hand over this chin. “We’ve only been mated for a month.”
For the first time, the word didn’t cause a hitch in my throat. Joined—we’d only been joined for a month. But the other was true as well. And I didn’t recoil from it. That was… something.
“Veyka’s turn!” Maisri demanded, jumping up and down.
The rest of us exchanged glances—realizing that this would not end until we’d exhausted every possible combination of pairs within our group. Excluding Percival, of course. He was too busy listening—to whatever purpose.
Cyara and Osheen had given up trying to get Maisri to bed. She was now nestled between them for warmth as the night took over fully. Lyrena’s fingers danced with firelight…warming herself against the chill, I guessed. I took a sip of my hot tea in the special cup Osheen had made me and girded myself for my turn.
“Let’s have it,” I sighed.
Lyrena tapped her chin a few times before deciding on her first question. “Which side does Arran use to feint?”
That one I knew instinctively. “The left.”
I’d sparred with him enough times, I could see the actions rolling through my mind second by second. But I didn’t need to sort through my memories for confirmation; I knew from fighting at his side. I knew his style like I knew my own.
Across the fire, Arran’s face was impassive. Not quite a glower, but not friendly.
I was much too used to his glares to be intimidated by them—or anything even fractionally softer.
Lyrena’s eyes darted between us. Probably trying to deduce whether I’d gotten the answer right. But Arran was revealing nothing—at least, not to her.
“Does Arran prefer his flora or fauna gifts?”
What shall I tell them? That your beast prefers me, so you prefer him?
A soft rumble in my chest, my stomach, lower.Next time we’re alone, I’ll show you what my vines can do.
I quivered.
I fucking quivered.
This male could reduce me to a puddle with a single sentence. Not even a sentence. A thought. A thought through the mating bond, a beastly growl.
“His beast,” I said sharply, before I completely lost control and dragged him into our tent. Or maybe the scrubby forest around us. “He likes the taste of blood.”
He wasn’t guarding his expression now. Across the fire, he stared at me with raw, unslaked desire. In the periphery of my vision, I saw the others turning away from the force of it.
Through the fog of lust, I heard Lyrena’s final question.
“What is Arran’s mother’s name?”
