I let the debate continue for another hour, watching Iris hold her own against wolves twice her age and three times her experience. She does not back down. She does not defer. She argues her points with the cold logic of someone who has studied war as an academic exercise and the passion of someone who has something personal at stake.
By the time the council adjourns, the plan is set. We march at dawn to meet Korren's forces at the canyon. I will lead the assault personally while Torben holds the high ground with our archers. It is a risk, putting myself at the front of the battle, but my wolves need to see their alpha fighting beside them. Anything less would confirm Korren's propaganda about my weakness.
The wolves file out, but I catch Torben's arm before he can leave.
"If I fall tomorrow, the pack is yours."
Torben's jaw tightens. "You won't fall."
"If I do. Protect her. Whatever it takes. Whatever it costs."
He meets my eyes, and I see the understanding there. He knows what she means to me. He knows what losing her would do to whatever remains of the pack.
"I will," he says. "But you're not going to fall. You have too much to live for now."
He leaves, and I am alone with the maps and the firelight and the weight of what tomorrow will bring.
Iris comes to my chambers after midnight.
I hear her footsteps in the corridor, hear the hesitation before she knocks. I open the door before her hand connects with the wood, just as I did the last time she came to me. She stands in the dim light wearing nothing but a thin robe, her hair loose around her shoulders, her eyes dark with need.
"If you die tomorrow—" She stops, swallows. "I need?—"
"What do you need?"
She steps past me into the room, and I close the door behind her. The fire has burned low, casting long shadows across the stone walls. She turns to face me, and I see the conflict in her face. Fear and want and fierce determination underneath.
"You," she says. "Tonight. All of you."
The words hit me like a physical blow. I cross the distance between us in two strides and take her face in my hands, tilting it up so she has to meet my eyes.
"You understand what you're asking."
"I understand that you might not come back. I understand that I might spend the rest of my life wondering what it would have been like." Her hands come up to grip my wrists, not pulling away, just holding on. "I don't want to wonder, Stellan. I want to know."
I kiss her. Not gently. There is nothing gentle left in me tonight, not with war on the horizon and her body pressed against mine and the desperate need to claim what is mine before the world tries to take it away. She opens for me immediately, her tongue meeting mine, her fingers clawing at my shirt.
I strip her with sure hands, pulling the robe from her shoulders and letting it pool at her feet. She is naked underneath, her skin pale gold in the firelight, her nipples already hard, her breath coming fast and shallow. I run my hands down her sides, over the curve of her hips, between her thighs where she is already wet for me.
"You've been thinking about this," I murmur against her mouth. "Lying in your bed, imagining what it would feel like to have me inside you."
"Yes." The admission comes out broken, shameless. "Since you put your mouth on me. I can't stop thinking about it."
I lift her and carry her to the bed, laying her down on the furs and covering her body with mine. She arches up against me, seeking friction, seeking relief, but I pin her hips to the mattress with one hand.
"Not yet. I've waited too long for this to rush."
I take my time with her. I learn the taste of her throat, the way her pulse jumps beneath my tongue when I drag my teeth across the tender skin. The hollow behind her ear draws a shiver from her when I breathe against it, and I file that knowledge away for later use. The sensitive spot at the base of her spinemakes her arch into me, a low moan spilling from her lips before she can catch it.
I drag my mouth down her body, tracing the valley between her breasts with my tongue before turning my attention to each one in turn. I take her nipple into my mouth and suck until she gasps, then scrape my teeth across the hardened peak just to feel her jolt beneath me. Her fingers twist in my hair, pulling me closer, and I give her other breast the same treatment until she is writhing and cursing, her hips rolling against nothing, desperate for friction I refuse to give.
Lower still. I press open-mouthed kisses down her stomach, feeling her muscles clench and flutter beneath my lips. When I reach the juncture of her thighs, I spread them wider with my palms and settle between them, breathing in the rich scent of her arousal. She is glistening, swollen, her body weeping for me. I let my breath ghost across her heated flesh, watching her hips lift in silent plea, letting her feel how close I am to where she needs me most.
"Please." The word is torn from her. "Stellan, please."
"Please what?"
"Please fuck me. I need you inside me. I can't—I can't wait anymore."
