“I did,” I admitted. “You’re warm.”
He let out a low, pleased growl that vibrated through me. “You feel like you belong here.” He buried his face in my hair, inhaling deeply. “You smellof me now,” he murmured, the words a possessive, satisfying brand. "Of us."
Carefully, as if I were a priceless, fragile treasure, he untangled himself from me. “Stay,” he commanded, though it was a gentle plea. “I will bring food.”
He rose from the bed, gloriously, unashamedly naked, and I couldn't help but stare. He was a monument of scarred, masculine power, every muscle and sinew a testament to a life of brutal strength. But the way he moved now, fetching a pitcher of water, stoking the embers of the hearth, was imbued with a new, reverent gentleness.
He returned a short while later with a wooden tray laden with food—smoked fish, cheese, and thick slices of dark bread dripping with honey. He set it on the furs between us and fussed over my comfort, piling pelts behind my back until I was sitting up comfortably. His huge hands, the hands that could split a man’s skull with a single blow, were now breaking bread for me, their movements careful and tender.
We ate in a comfortable silence, a new domesticity settling around us as easily as a well-worn cloak. The awkwardness of our first meal was gone, replaced by a deep, unspoken understanding.
“Last night…” I started, then stopped, not knowing how to voice the maelstrom of thoughts in my head.
He looked at me, his gaze soft. “Last night was the beginning.”
“I thought… I was afraid you would break me,” I admitted, the confession a quiet thing in the morning air.
His expression hardened with a flicker of self-recrimination. “I would sooner cut off my own arm,” he said, his voice fierce. “You are not a conquest, Kael. You are the heart of my home now.” He reached out, his knuckles gently grazing my cheek. “I will spend my life learning your body, learning your pleasure. I will never hurt you.”
The sincerity in his voice was absolute. I believed him. And that trust, so new and fragile, felt more significant than any vow.
After we ate, he rose and went to a large, carved chest at the foot of the bed. He opened it and took out a small, leather-wrapped object. He came back and sat on the edge of the bed, his expression turning serious once more.
“There is one final part of the binding,” he said, his voice quiet. “A tradition. It is a symbol, a declaration.” He slowly unwrapped the leather, revealing a bracelet. It was made of intricately carved wolf bone, creamy white and polished smooth. Two wolves were carved into the design, their bodies chasing each other in a continuous, unbroken circle. Their tiny eyes were inlaid with chips of obsidian. It was a piece of stark, barbaric beauty.
“In your human world, you have rings of gold,” he explained. “Tokens of ownership, of a contract. This is… similar. But it is not about ownership. It is a sign to all others. It says, ‘This female is under my protection. She speaks with my authority. An injury to her is an injury to me. A challenge to her is a challenge to my clan.’”
He held it out, letting it rest on his open palm. “It is a mark of respect. Of belonging. But it is your choice to wear it.”
I looked at the bracelet. It was beautiful. It was also a public declaration. The last, visible chain. This would make me Kael-who-belongs-to-Korvak. My hesitation must have shown on my face.
“It is not a brand to mark you as mine,” he said, his voice gentle, as if he could read my thoughts. “It is a shield. It will give you a voice and a power in this stronghold. It is for you, not for me.”
I looked from the bracelet to his earnest, open face.
“Okay,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. I held out my arm.
He took my wrist, his thumb gently stroking the pale, sensitive skin. The simple touch sent a fresh wave of heat through me. He slid the bone bracelet over my hand. It was cool against my skin, its weight solid and reassuring. It fit perfectly. He fastened the clasp, a clever little mechanism of carved bone and leather cord. His fingers lingered on my wrist, his gaze locking with mine.
“You are my mate,” he murmured, the words a sacred vow. “You are safe. You are home.”
The act, so simple, was more intimate than any kiss. The air between us thickened, charged with the memory of the night and the promise of the morning. The gentle domesticity had given way to a simmering, possessive heat. He leaned in, his gaze dropping to my lips.
“Last night,” he growled, his voice a low, husky thing that vibrated through my bones, “was a conquest. This… this is for us to learn.”
His mouth found mine, and this kiss was a revelation. It wasn’t the desperate, frantic clash of the night before. It was slower, more exploratory, a conversation between two bodies that now knew the foundation of each other’s language. He tasted of faint spices from the morning meal and pure, undiluted Korvak. He laid me back against the nest of furs, his body a familiar, welcome weight that settled over me like a shield.
This time, there was no fear, no hesitation. There was only the slow, deliberate exploration. His big, calloused hands traced the lines of my body with a reverence that made my breath catch. He mapped the curve of my waist, the swell of my hip, the soft skin of my inner thigh.
“You are so small,” he murmured against my throat, his lips a hot brand on my skin. “And yet, you hold the strength of a mountain.” He licked a stripe up my neck, and I gasped as his teeth grazed the sensitive skin there. “Tell me what you like, Kael. I want to know everything.”
“I…” I started, but my own voice was thick with need. I didn’t have the words. So I showed him. My hands roamed the scarred landscape of his broad back, learning the stories etched into his skin. I tangled my fingers in the thick, dark hair at the nape of his neck and pulled him closer, kissing him with a demanding hunger I didn’t know I possessed.
A low rumble started in his chest. “Yes. Show me.”
He worshipped my body with his mouth, his tongue, his hands. He took his time, discovering places I didn’t know could feel such pleasure. He learned the sharp hitch in my breath when his thumb brushed over my nipple, the soft moan that escaped when his tongue delved into my navel, the way my hips lifted instinctively when his fingers found the wet heat between my legs. He learned the rhythm that made me gasp his name, the exact touch that made me arch into him, begging without words.
When I was trembling on the edge, a live wire of pure sensation, I took the lead. Fueled by a new, wild confidence, I pushed against his shoulders. He yielded instantly, watching me with dark, hooded eyes as I climbed astride him. The sight of my small frameseated on his massive, muscular torso was a study in contrasts, and it was intoxicating.
