“There.” Rogan’s laughter was soft. “I knew it would be worth the wait.”
He stood, offering his large, warm palm to lift me to my feet. He pulled me toward the edge of the forest until we were adrift in a sea of shadow and glow.
Fireflies danced in profusion, pirouetting through the twilight like captured stars. They paid us no mind, swirling heedlessly in our wake. A bright snatch of music snagged my hearing—strange amid the silence of sunset. I twisted to see a bright light drifting over my ear. Cupping my palm around the tiny body, I carried it close. Golden light splashed my face as the melody rose. It was an ancient song, soft and strange. I exhaled and released the firefly to drift away.
Rogan reached for another, cupping it in his palm the same way. We bowed our heads together. A melancholy melody rose up, like an elegy for a broken heart.
“It’s too early for fireflies,” I whispered.
“These are no fireflies, changeling.” Wonder and wariness colored his voice.
No—they were the songs lilting in the moments before I fell asleep—the lullabies frombefore. They were the songs moss sang to stones, the songs trees sang to seedlings, the songs earth sang to sky. They were the songs of my green heart unbound.
I reached for another. But Rogan caught my lifted hand with his calloused fingers. “Do you remember the night by the pond?”
My pulse vaulted as he uncurled my fingers and brushed his lips against the palm of my hand. “How could I forget?”
Rogan’s eyes—pools of indigo shot through with golden stars and leaves of green—grazed mine, heavy with a question. A question with an impossible answer. I hesitated for one last breathless moment.
“One night, Rogan,” I murmured. “One night to let this flame between us burn itself out.”
“One night.” His lips brushed mine. “To be no one?”
“To be no one,” I whispered into the dusk.
I parted my lips, sliding my mouth over his and slipping my tongue between his teeth. He tasted like woodsmoke and want. In an instant, the kiss lost its gentleness. Rogan’s hands dragged up my bare arms, gripping my shoulders as he drew me hard against him. Our mouths met with a clash of tongues and lips and wet heat, speaking a language only our bodies understood.
I rose up onto my toes, molding my hips and stomach to his front, where already his desire was rising. His groan was a low rumble of pleasure that vibrated deliciously through my chest. His hands dropped from my arms to my waist and then lower, smoothing over the curve of my rear. He cupped my thighs and lifted me against him.
My shift rode up over my legs as I wrapped them around his waist, hooking my calves in the small of his back. The night air grew cool against my bare skin, but I didn’t care—Rogan’s muscled torso radiated warmth against the inside of my thighs, even with his shirt in the way. I looped my arms around his neck and bent my face toward his, my hair making a dark curtain around us. But another dark breeze kissed a chill down my back and raised gooseflesh along my arms. I hesitated.
“It’s getting dark.” My voice came out husky. “We should get back to the fort—”
“No.” Rogan’s pupils were blown wide, dark as the sky fading around us. “It’s too far. And I’ve wanted this for too long.”
In one smooth motion—without setting me down—he unbuckled the mantle from his shoulder. His river-stone brooch fell in ablur of blue-green. Rogan flicked the fabric open with one hand. It snapped like a sail before billowing down to the grass. Swiftly, gently, Rogan laid me down on the cloth, then knelt above me to take off his tunic. I rose up onto my elbows, watching hungrily as he ripped the fabric over his head, his golden waves settling onto the freckled ridge of muscle connecting his collarbones to his shoulders. The hard planes of his stomach flexed as he leaned over me, sliding one of his knees between my thighs. The heat building in my core gave a throb of need. I skimmed my fingers down the range of his torso, reaching for the waistband of his breeches, where the bulge of his arousal pressed. But he caught my hands and lifted them, pinning them roughly above my head. I inhaled, biting my lip as my hips bucked up against him.
“You’ve waited more than four years to have me inside you again.” His low voice held an edge of provocative humor. “You can’t wait a few more minutes?”
I tilted my chin, bringing my lips toward his ear. “Will it be worth the wait?”
“Oh, changeling.” His smile was shameless. “I’ll make sure of that.”
My heartbeat accelerated. Rogan released my wrists, dragging his hands down over my arms. He found the straps of my shift, sliding them down over my humming skin as he exposed me to the waist. His gaze grew heavy-lidded as he took in the sight of me—his eyes roving over my face, my throat, my modest breasts. Gently, he slid his hand against the soft curve above my ribs. I shivered and arched my spine, pushing the fullness of my breast into his palm. He leaned down to capture my hard nipple in his mouth, laving his tongue over the sensitive skin until I threw my head back and moaned from the aching promise rising inside me.
Where the world had made me hard, Rogan made me feel suddenly soft.
The rest of my dress fell away beneath his grasping hands. His breath hitched when his touch roamed lower and pushed aside myunderthings. Maintaining eye contact, he slipped his hand between my legs. I gasped as his fingers slid against my slick warmth, moving in slow, deliberate circles. Heat twined insistent in my core, and I rocked against his hand, urging him on. But he just smiled, gliding his fingers in teasing caresses. I whimpered from the yearning ache building inside me. He leaned down to catch the sound in his mouth, sucking on my lower lip as I quickened beneath his touch. My fingers flexed in the grass.
I wanted more. I dragged him toward me. This time, when I reached for the waistband of his trousers, he let me. I tried to be deft on the laces, but after a moment, Rogan reached down and unlaced them for me. His erection sprang free, and I took his smooth length in my palm. My fingers curved around it and Rogan groaned at my touch. His head fell back and his lips parted as I caressed him. His hardness swelled in my hand and he jerked as I stroked him faster, the muscles of his stomach tensing.
“Enough.” He pushed me onto the cloak, kissed me rough. His lips were as swollen as mine felt. He settled himself between my open thighs. “Enough waiting, changeling?”
“Yes, princeling.” Anticipation made my smile slow. “Enough waiting.”
He sheathed himself inside me in one long, slow stroke. I moaned, heat and tightness building my pleasure to a fever pitch. My fingers flexed in the grass. He moved deeper, burying himself to the hilt until all I could feel was him. His length, his weight above me, his mouth on the skin of my throat. Roots snaked from my touch, sliding in the earth beneath me.
Rogan rocked against me, slow at first but building speed as we rediscovered the rhythms of each other’s pleasure. His hands pulled shivering touches up my waist, over my nipples, against the column of my trembling throat. His thumb grazed my bottom lip in the moment before he dragged his mouth over mine.
