You. Beneath me. Around me. Crying out my name while I?—
I cut off that line of thinking before my dragon can seize on it. “Complicated question.”
“Is it?”
She’s studying me with those sharp green eyes, seeing more than I’d like. That analytical mind dissecting my every reaction.
“I need you to decide this.” The words escape raw. Honest. “Whatever happens between us—I need it to be your decision. Not instinct, not the mate bond, not desperation or fear or pressure. You.”
Her lips part. A quick inhale.
“Three hundred fifty years,” I continue, “and I’ve never craved anyone the way I crave you. But craving isn’t enough. Not for what we could be.”
“What could we be?”
Everything. Forever. Mine.
“That’s up to you.”
I push off the doorframe and leave before I can say anything else. Before I can give in to the urge to cross the room and show her exactly what I ache for.
Her question follows me—quiet, thoughtful.
“And if I’m deciding?”
I stop. Don’t turn around.
“Then you know where to find me.”
She comesto me after midnight.
I’m not asleep. Haven’t been able to sleep properly since the ramparts—my dragon too restless, my thoughts too loud. I’m lying in darkness, staring at the ceiling, counting the cracks in the stone, when I hear the soft knock.
I know it’s her before I open the door. Can smell wildflowers and determination through the wood. Can feel the pulse of her flame, calling to mine.
She’s standing in the corridor, hair loose around her shoulders, wearing nothing but a thin sleep shirt that barely reaches her thighs. Her feet are bare. Her hands are trembling.
But her gaze is steady.
“I had a nightmare.”
My gut clenches. “Aisling?—“
“I woke up screaming, and the first thing I reached for—“ She stops. Swallows. “The only thing I reached for was you.”
I should send her back to her room. Maintain the boundaries we’ve been navigating. Remember all the reasons why this is complicated and messy and probably a terrible idea.
Instead, I step aside and let her in.
She moves past me, into my chambers, and the door closes behind her with a soft click that sounds deafening in the silence.
“Aisling.” Her name scrapes out of me, rough with hunger. “If you’re here because of the nightmare?—“
“I’m here because I’m ready.” She turns to face me, and in the moonlight streaming through the window, she’s luminous. Fierce. Absolutely certain. “You said to find you when I knew what I craved. I know.”
“You’re sure?”
“Stop asking and kiss me.”
