Linton pushes open the door and strolls inside. I follow with slight trepidation, expecting to see some sort of cell.
Instead the room is bright and airy, lit by a large window which has a view out over the valley below. There is a double bed, covered with what looks like a crochet throw in multiple colours, and there is also a table with two chairs in the opposite corner. Linton opens the second door in the room, and I peer past him to find it’s a small privy.
“This is not what I was expecting.”
“The brothers want us to stay. They would not put us in a dungeon,” Linton mutters, leaving the privy and striding over to the window.
“If we don’t like it, you can just fly away, can’t you?” I suggest.
“I cannot fly outside the environs of the stronghold. It is spell bound to hold those who enter within its walls. And me, at least until the moon is full again.”
I join him by the window.
“I’m sorry, Linton,” I say softly. “I don’t know why Tam Lin wants me any more than you do, and I appreciate you being prepared to help me stay far away from him, given my history with the Faerie.”
Linton turns to me, taking hold of my shoulders.
“There is no apology needed. I would lay down my life for you, my Kaitlyn.”
KAITLYN
Istudy Linton’s face. His red eyes are deadly serious.
“Linton…” I’m not sure what to say or how to say it. “I like you, but I don’t know what this is between us.”
To my utter surprise, his face breaks into a wide smile.
“Neither do I?” His brows knit back together suddenly. “But I like it, and maybe can I still feed?” he asks, those eyebrows rising up into a hopeful pose.
Perhaps I’m overthinking this.
Perhaps I’ve been overthinking a lot of things. Linton is incredibly handsome, incredibly weird, carries enough weaponry to supply a small army, and sheds his scales when he walks and occasionally when he doesn’t.
He’s also kept me safe, even when it’s resulted in problems for him, and he’s given me the first and only orgasm of my life from eating me out.
Yes, it’s complicated, but at the same time, it really isn’t. Linton isn’t complicated at all. He does what he wants when he wants and only cares it works out if it impacts on me.
Prior to me, I’m not convinced he cared if what he did worked out or not.
“Yes.” I pat him on the arm. “You can still feed.”
I think Linton drools a little out of the lefthand side of his mouth.
“And we can work things out with the sleeping arrangements.”
“I don’t sleep.”
“I think you do.”
He makes a whooshing sound. “I don’t.”
“I’ll tell you in the morning.” I laugh.
“I’ll already know,” he says confidently.
An image of Linton this morning pops into my head, all floppy antennae and a smile which seemed to come from deep within.
A heavy knock has him bounding to the door, claws and fangs out.
