“Rion,” I gasped, feeling it approaching. “I’m close.”
“Yes,” he growled, the sound primal and possessive. “Let go, Clara.”
I did, shattering around him with an intensity that stole my breath. He followed moments later, his powerful body tensing as he found his own release.
After, he held me close, my head resting on his chest where I could hear the steady thump of his heart. His large hand traced lazy patterns on my back, and I felt more content than I could remember feeling in years, maybe ever.
“I never thought I could have this,” he said quietly into the darkness.
I propped myself up on his chest to look at him. “Have what?”
His eyes, so often guarded, were open and vulnerable. “Someone who sees past what I am to who I am. Someone who wants me not in spite of my differences, but alongside them.”
I leaned down to kiss him softly. “You deserve to be wanted exactly as you are.”
He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, his touch impossibly gentle for someone so strong. “So do you, Clara. So do you.”
We lay like that for a long time, talking in soft voices about everything and nothing—my childhood adventures in the library, his grandmother’s stories of the old world, our favorite books and films. In the safety of darkness, we shared the parts of ourselves we usually kept hidden.
Later, when we made love again, it was with the unhurried confidence of people who had all the time in the world. And as I finally drifted to sleep in his arms, I realized that for the first time in my life, I felt like I truly belonged somewhere.
Or rather, with someone.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Morning light slipped through a gap in the curtains, painting a warm stripe across my face. I scrunched my nose, trying to escape it without fully waking up. Something solid and warm shifted beside me, and the events of last night came flooding back.
Rion. Me. Us.
I opened my eyes to find myself nestled against his massive chest, his arm draped protectively around my waist. His breathing was deep and even, his face relaxed in sleep in a way I’d never seen before. The perpetual furrow between his brows had smoothed out, making him look younger, less guarded.
I allowed myself a moment to simply look at him. The morning light caught in his fur, highlighting subtle variations in color I hadn’t noticed before—rich brown darkening to almost black in places, with hints of gold where the sun touched it. His horns gleamed, polished and perfect, curving elegantly from his forehead. I resisted the urge to reach out and touch them, not wanting to wake him just yet.
My body felt pleasantly sore, a delicious reminder of our night together. I blushed at the memory of how many times we’d made love, how he’d touched me with those large, careful hands as if I were something precious.
And maybe to him, I am.
The thought sent a flutter through my chest that had nothing to do with physical desire and everything to do with the tangle of emotions I wasn’t quite ready to name.
Rion stirred, his arm tightening around me briefly before he opened his eyes. For a second, surprise flickered across his face, as if he couldn’t quite believe I was still there. Then his expression softened into something that made my heart skip.
“Good morning,” he rumbled, his voice even deeper than usual with sleep.
“Morning,” I replied, suddenly shy despite our intimacy the night before. I became acutely aware of my bedhead and morning breath.
He seemed to sense my self-consciousness. One large hand came up to cup my cheek, his thumb brushing over my bottom lip. “You’re beautiful in the morning light.”
The sincerity in his voice melted my insecurities. I leaned forward and kissed him softly. “So are you.”
A low chuckle vibrated through his chest. “I don’t think anyone’s called me beautiful before.”
“Then they weren’t looking properly.” I traced the line of his jaw, feeling the soft fur beneath my fingertips. “What time is it?”
He glanced at the clock on his nightstand. “Just after seven.”
I groaned. “I have to be at work by nine.” The library felt like it existed in another dimension entirely, far removed from this peaceful bubble we’d created.
“Plenty of time,” he said, pulling me closer. His hand slid down my bare back, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. “Unless you want to skip breakfast.”
