He puts one hand over my mouth. “You can’t promise that. I mean it.”
I press a fleeting kiss to the palm before I take his hand between my own. “You’re right. I promise I’ll do my best to always return to you. The Hunt—we’re good at this. We’ll deal with whatever is happening.”
“And the rites?”
“I have to talk to your pack first. And I have to talk to the Huntsman.”
“For permission?”
“I don’t know what a fully-fledged mating bond will do to my blessing. So far, so good, but the full bond is incredibly powerful magic, and my grip on my blessing is tenuous at best.”
Quinn frowns but nods. “Makes sense.” There’s a hint of disappointment in his tone, but the tears are gone. He lets out a sigh and rocks forward, knocking his forehead gently against mine. “We’ll do them one day. I’ll chase you down and make you mine.”
The words trail off into a growl, silver flooding his irises, and I kiss him desperately, then gasp at the feeling of claws pricking my skin. It’s not a full shift—he has far more control than that—just his wolf rising to the surface.
“I’ll chase you after,” I say when our mouths part. “See if you like being all wrapped up in my magic.”
He huffs a laugh. “You’ll have to catch me first.”
We sleep sporadically through the day, periods of rest interspersed with eating and talking and driving each other out of our minds with pleasure. I wake again some time after sundown to the insistent buzzing of my phone on the bedside table.
Quinn grumbles against my shoulder. There are still a few bruises and marks scattered across his skin, and my blessing seems not at all inclined to remove the one he keeps leaving on my throat. Warmth builds in my chest. Yes, we still have the fae to face, and Quinn still has some way to go on his journey, but today has been more than I could ever hope for.
Still, I answer the phone with an irritated huff. “What is it?”
“Sorry to interrupt,” Maurice says down the line, and he sounds genuine. Then again, the Huntsman himself gave Maurice two days withhismate, so perhaps he truly understands the feeling. “We need to debrief the Huntsman. He’s thinking about calling the Guardians in, but he wants to hear from you first.”
I groan. “Now?”
“An hour ago would have been better, apparently.”
“You’re at the base?”
Maurice makes a sound of agreement. “The atmosphere here is… unpleasant.”
“Fuck. Okay. Give me an hour?”
“Asher—”
“I’m taking Quinn home first.”
He’s quiet for a moment. No doubt the Huntsman knows about all of this—and I don’t even believe that’s because one of the others told him. No. He keeps tabs on all of us; we all know that.
“Fine. One hour. Hurry up.”
Maurice hangs up and I roll my eyes before I toss my phone back where I found it. Quinn kisses my shoulder, pressing his lips to each rose tattooed there.
“These all mean something, don’t they?”
I nod. Not all the ink on my skin is imbued with meaning—I’ve far too many tattoos for that. But fae-touched humans are hard to find, so the ones done on a whim are few and far between.
“The roses? I’ve never seen black ones before.”
“Rebirth. They were the first ones I got.”
Quinn presses his lips to them again, then leans up to kiss me properly. I sigh and indulge, wanting more than anything to keep him in this bed with me forever.
Eventually, I pull back and kiss his cheek.
