The bond hummed inside him, warm and anchored, a new pulse under his skin.
Alive.
Settled.
Claimed.
But instead of joy, fear curled like a fist around his throat.
She might leave.
The thought lanced through him so sharply he almost flinched.
He’d felt her body respond to him—felt the magic root itself in her, felt her choose him. But choosing him in the heat of the moment didn’t mean she understood what it meant in the daylight.
Humans changed their minds. Humans ran. Humans woke up from intoxicating nights and wondered what madness had overtaken them.
And she—Gods, she was too bright for him. Too alive. Too full of a world beyond this cave.
His hand cupped the back of her head, fingers threading through her hair almost without thought. She nuzzled closer, a tiny contented sound escaping her that shot straight through him.
He shut his eyes.
This felt like the thing he had begged the gods for and then cursed himself for wanting. It felt like a life that was never meant to be his.
She shifted slightly, her thigh grazing his, her arm tightening lightly around him. A simple movement, innocent even. And yet it nearly undid him.
She was his mate now. The bond had sealed. Her magic—and her life—were tied to his.
But she didn’t know the weight of that. Not really. Not the way trolls understood it: with centuries of loss stitched into their bones and the memory of brothers who had walked into the sun rather than face another winter alone.
He’d held her through passion, through magic, through that exquisite moment when two souls recognized each other.
But could he hold her through morning?
Could he hold her through choice?
Gunnar looked down at her, the soft glow of dying runes reflecting faintly off her skin. She looked peaceful. Trusting. As if curling up in the arms of a troll was the most natural thing she had ever done.
That terrified him.
“Wren,” he whispered, though she didn’t stir, “you don’t know what you’ve given me.”
He brushed a thumb over her shoulder, memorizing the shape of her in the low firelight.
“If you leave…” He swallowed. The words caught in his throat, jagged and dangerous. “Then I will unravel.”
It wasn’t a threat. It was truth. Simple. Quiet. Fatal.
He kissed her hair, barely a touch of his lips. “But it must be your choice.”
His arms tightened around her before he could stop himself, holding her with a mix of desperation and reverence he couldn’t hide even from himself.
She murmured in her sleep, pressing closer, her breath warming the hollow of his throat. His heart slammed painfully against his ribs.
He knew he would protect her. He knew he would worship her. He knew he would face gods and storms and curses before letting anything harm her.
But the one thing he couldn’t fight was her leaving.
