And then hundreds of pounds of snarling beast charged at her.
He was all blood-flecked fur and hard muscle, pointed teeth and jagged claws—a predator designed to maim and kill. Saga’s body reacted as though she were prey, screaming at her to flee, to take cover before this beast ripped her limb from limb. But those green eyes anchored her in place, forcing her to stand her ground.
Those eyes belonged to Kassandr. And Kassandr wouldneverharm her.
His once-gray muzzle was matted with blood and pulled into a vicious snarl as he lunged at her. Saga tried not to look at the gleaming fangs, instead focusing on those eyes—Kassandr’s eyes. They were mad with bloodlust, flooding her with apprehension. What if she’d miscalculated? What if his beastly nature could not identify her? But then she saw the flash of recognition.
The beast’s claws gouged the floorboards as he tried to slow themomentum careening his enormous form across the room. He came to a stop bare inches from her, and Saga finally released her breath. Crouched on his long forelegs, the beast stood eye-to-eye with Saga, and for a moment, they simply stared at each other. He was so near that she could smell him—wet fur and the iron scent of blood—so near she could now see how his muscles clenched and unclenched with each labored breath.
“What is it?” she asked, aiming for soothing, but landing on something sharper. Saga hadn’t a clue of what she was doing—she didn’t know if he could even understand her.
Kassandr jolted, and a whine came from low in his chest. It was clear he was in discomfort, but she could not tell if he was in pain.
“Come to the bed. Let me look at you.” Saga took a cautious step forward, but as that barbed tail lashed to and fro, she stopped.
The whine shifted into a growl, and he resumed his pacing.
Saga released a frustrated sigh. “You must rest, Kass.”
The beast continued prowling about.
“Get on the bed, Kassandr. Now.” Part of Saga wanted to laugh. In some other life, those words might have an altogether different meaning.
Without waiting for him to comply, Saga marched to the bed herself. Wincing as her soot-stained garments dragged along the fine linens, she crawled to the middle of the bed and reclined against the carved wooden headboard. The scent from the bedding hit her senses—herbal and woodsy, with the faintest traces of sweat—and for a single, dizzying moment, she was acutely aware of whose bed this was.
Saga gave herself a mental shake and patted the blanket. “Bed, Kass.”
His eyes filled with something that looked an awful lot like fear, and in that moment, Saga understood. “I know you won’t hurt me, you obstinate man. Now get on the gods damned bed.”
Slowly, his long, angular forelegs drew forward, thick muscular hind legs powering him toward her. Another cautious bound forward, and then he slowly…carefully…climbed onto the bed. Ashe crawled toward her, Saga’s heartbeat picked up. Kassandr was a large man, but his beast was nearly twice as large. In this form he easily took up half the bed.
With slow, deliberate movements, Kassandr eased himself down, laying his head on her lap with a soft whine. She nearly gasped at the weight of him—nearly made a joke about such a large head for such a mindless man—but Saga knew it was not the right moment.
“You’re trembling,” she murmured, her fingertips grazing the thick tufts of fur around his ears.
The clench and release of his muscles continued, and an idea struck Saga. Gathering her courage, she found the joint of his shoulder and began tapping in a gentle rhythm.
After the explosion she’d caused in Sunnavík, Saga had told Rurik she had not been in control. And his reply?
I understand. More than you know.
“This has happened to you before,” she murmured, continuing the taps. He nuzzled deeper into her lap, eyes squeezed tightly shut. “Perhaps I am beginning to understand you better.” The muscles beneath her fingers shuddered, and a wave of empathy flooded her. She, too, understood how it felt to be helpless against her body’s own reaction. How vulnerable he must feel right now.
Saga began to hum. It was a silly song her mother had once sung to her, but it made her think of kinder days. And she could have sworn Kass’s agitation eased just a touch by the time she reached the second verse. She continued to hum, her fingers tapping against Kass’s shoulder for several minutes. Gradually, his tremors quieted, his breaths growing more rhythmic. And as he loosed a long, contented sigh, she regarded him.
In her previous encounters with this side of Kassandr, she’d been too frightened to examine him closely. But now, with him sprawled across her lap, she let herself look. He was not all teeth and claws and spiny protrusions, she realized. His fur was an assortment of grays and whites, even a few soft browns along the top of his wolf-like snout. Delicate black whiskers framed his muzzle and sprangfrom above his eyes—eyes that gazed right back at Saga, filled with what looked like…shame.
“I think you’re rather striking,” she whispered.
Saga hesitated, then slid her fingers into the thick fur on his neck, surprised at how soft it was here compared with his shoulder. She gave him a gentle scratch. A low rumble came from his chest, and Saga blinked. But this was no growl—it was softer and far more steady.
“Are youpurring?”
The sound only intensified, vibrating through her, and soon Saga grinned like a delighted fool. She grew more bold, her fingers rubbing behind his ears and down his neck, searching for the places he liked the most. But eventually, the purring faded, and she realized his eyes had fallen shut. Asleep. Kassandr had fallen asleep with his head on her lap.
With a sigh, Saga prepared to extricate herself so she could return to her chambers. But a wave of exhaustion struck her. She did not even know which wing she was in, nor how to get back to her chambers.
“I’ll just close my eyes for a moment,” she told herself. Saga leaned back against the headboard. Let her eyes fall shut. Sleep found her mere minutes later.
