No one meets my eyes.
Satisfied, I turn on my heel and return to my quarters.
She’s still in bed. Still watching.
“What was that?” she asks.
“Reassurance,” I reply.
She laughs softly. “For them?”
“For me.”
Because no matter how much I deny it...
She’s in my blood now.
And that?
That’s the most dangerous thing of all.
I crawl into bed with her, our gazes locked. She doesn’t resist as I pull her near.
She’s curled against me like she’s meant to be there.
The collar stays, but the Reaper lingerie is gone—removed with reverence, not haste. I wanted her unbound, unmasked, free to choose if she still wanted to touch me. To press her lips to my throat. To trace her fingers down my chest. To wrap herself around me like a second skin.
She did.
She does.
Ayla holds me like I’m the one in chains.
Her small hand is splayed against my ribs. Her leg is thrown over mine. Her cheek is pillowed against my shoulder, lips parting with every slow exhale. I can feel the curve of her breast where it molds to my side. Her skin is warm. Damp. Real.
And gods help me, I like it.
I’ve had women before. I’vetakenthem. Quick, forgettable affairs that ended when the thrill wore off or they became too clingy. But Ayla… clinging to me now? I don’t want to push her away.
I don’t want this to end.
She murmurs in her sleep, soft and broken. Her fingers twitch. Her body shifts restlessly before resettling against me with a sigh.
“Shh,” I whisper, brushing a hand down her back. “You’re safe.”
The words feel strange in my mouth. Heavy. Like old armor that hasn’t been worn in years.
And maybe that’s what this is.
Old armor. Old stories.
Because the feeling rising in my chest—tight, aching, bright—is one I haven’t known since I was a child, listening to my mother’s voice on the long ice-walks. Singing lullabies in the language of theIshani.The days before war claimed us. Before we learned that love was weakness and mating bonds got you killed.
Before I became a captain of the Bloody Talon.
I tilt my head, watching her face in the low firelight. She’s beautiful. No—morethan that. Radiant. Lush and defiant and curious and unbreakable. I could look at her for a thousand years and still find something new to crave.
The skin between her brows creases like she’s having a dream she can’t quite escape. Her lips twitch.
