"Yes," I say simply. "I love you, Cadeon. I think I've been falling in love with you since the moment I walked in that door. Maybe even before that."
He stares at me like I've given him the world. "Iris," he whispers.
"You don't have to say it back. I know it's complicated and scary..."
He kisses me silent. When he pulls back, his eyes are bright with emotion.
"I love you," he says, clear and certain. "I don't know when it happened. Maybe when you insisted on sitting with me after my nightmares. Maybe when you taught me to cook wassail. Maybe the first time you looked at me like I was a person instead of a weapon." He shakes his head. "Whenever it started, I know it's real. The most real thing I've felt in two hundred years."
I kiss him again because I don't have words. Because my heart is too full for words.
When we finally break apart, we're both smiling like fools.
"So," I say, glancing down at our state of undress. "That was quite an evening."
He laughs. "It was. Though perhaps next time we should actually make it to a bed."
"Next time?" I raise an eyebrow. "Confident, aren't you?"
"Given that we have a week until solstice, and the bond transformation requires intimacy..." He trails off meaningfully. "I think there will definitely be a next time."
Heat pools low in my belly at the suggestion. "Oh?"
"Definitely." He nips at my lower lip. "I want to taste you properly. Want to take my time learning every inch of you. Want to make you come on my tongue, my fingers, eventually on my cock." His voice drops to a rough purr. "Want to hear you scream my name."
I shiver. "That's... quite a to-do list."
"We have a week." He pulls me close again. "I intend to make the most of them."
Later, after we've cleaned up and dressed (somewhat reluctantly), we sit together in the kitchen while I make dinner.
Or rather, while Cadeon makes dinner and I sit on the counter watching him.
"You know," I say, "I could help."
"You could." He looks up from the vegetables he's chopping with perfect precision. "But I like having you there. It feels..." He trails off.
"Normal?"
"Right. It feels right."
I swing my legs, content to watch him move around the kitchen. Through the bond, I can feel his quiet happiness. His peace.
"A week," I say softly.
He sets down the knife and comes to stand between my knees, stooping so he can brace his hands on my thighs. "A week until the bond transforms. Until I get to choose you, freely and completely."
"You're sure? That you'll choose to stay?"
"Iris." He tilts my chin up. "I'm not going anywhere. Ever. You're stuck with me."
"Promise?"
"I promise. I choose you. Every day from now until forever, I choose you."
I pull him into a kiss, soft and sweet and full of promise.
"Every day," I whisper against his mouth. "I choose you too."
