Coming around to work on the side of his mane, Maeve explained the confrontation that’d happened the night before with her sister. “You should be very flattered, darling. Imogen and Sorcha were ready to defend you to the bitter end from wicked little me.”
Although he’d been purring softly this whole time, a louder one burst from his lips. “Darling?” he repeated.
“Darling, sweetheart, my big strong lion-man,” she said. “Which do you prefer?”
He rumbled with consideration. “I like darling. My big strong mate isn’t too bad, either.”
“All right, then.” Leaning down, he received a lingering kiss on his muzzle. “My big, strong, handsomekigara.”
That earned her an even louder, deeper purr, and she accompanied it with a joyous, tinkling laugh.
“You should be flattered, too,kam-kala. Akila and Diar have been disgusted with me since the first day. Even Kiri began to lose his patience.”
“Well, it’s nice to hear my family will defend your honor and your family will defend mine,” she giggled.
After one last tiny tug, Maeve declared, “I think that’s all of them.”
The next thing Soren knew, she’d wrapped her arms around his shoulders from behind, hooking her chin over his shoulder.
“You’re really sure about this?” she whispered.
“I am,” he reassured her. “Nothing has felt more right to me.”
“I just don’t want you to come to regret it.”
Turning his head, it was his turn to kiss her cheek. “I promise you, should I ever have even the beginnings of a regret, I’ll tell you. All we can do is be honest with each other and choose each other each day.”
Her sigh puffed warmly in his mane. “You’re right. And I do, I do choose you, Soren.” She squeezed him tightly to emphasize her point. “I don’t know what the future looks like, but I want you in it.”
“That’s all I wish,” he purred, nuzzling her temple.
He let her soak up his reassurance, but after a time, he couldn’t resist tugging her into the curve of his body. Sitting her down between his legs, he plucked the comb from her hand.
“Now it’s your turn.”
“Are you saying I look terrible?” she asked with mock offense.
“Never. Just that I wish to comb your mane, too.”
Some of the play fell from her face, but thankfully, it was replaced by a look of genuine feeling. She was touched that he wished to do so. Soren hoped to convince her soon that it was one of a myriad of gestures, comforts, and duties that were her due, askigara.
He took this seriously, careful not to tug one golden hair from her head. Carefully pulling out the ribbon holding back about half of her hair, Soren worked diligently, sifting through every lock. He’d suspected already, but that afternoon confirmed she loved his claws gently scraping her scalp, and so when each section was brushed, he rewarded her patience with soft kneads and scratches. Unsure if she knew she did it but not caring either way, she began to hum as she sat there under his ministrations, a lovely little tune that somehow captured the warmth of the afternoon.
Soren didn’t dare interrupt. Instead, his combing kept time to her song, his purr adding a harmonizing layer.
When he finally declared, “Finished,” it was quietly, with a reverent kiss to her shoulder.
Sweeping her glossy hair over the other shoulder, Maeve peeked at him and winked. “Well, that clears up the tangles. Now for the other bit.”
He didn’t quite know what she meant, and he couldn’t help a pout when she stood and stepped out of the circle of his arms. However, his attention was quickly snagged by her hands reaching for her stays.
To his astonishment, she undid the ribbons and slipped out of her stays, her skirts, her shift, and even her underthings. In just a few moments, she stood before him utterly naked, every beautiful inch of her bare and glowing in the sun.
With an impish smile, she turned and ran into the lake,shrieking at the coolness. His gaze transfixed on her backside, and he wasn’t too proud to admit he sat there stupidly for a long few moments, utterly mesmerized by the sight she made. Happy and playful, she sloshed through the water up to her hips before turning around to beckon him in.
It was surreal, ridiculous, but Soren could never resist her. Rising to his feet, he pulled off his ripped shirt, unbuckled his belt, and unknotted his kilt. Piling his clothes beside hers, Soren waded deeper into the water, a buoyant feeling of gratitude and joy filling his chest. Even when she splashed him right in the face, he only grinned wider.
His mischievous mate whooped and laughed, ready to start a splash duel. She was quick and ruthless, his Maeve, determined to soak him before he soaked her. His paws were bigger but she was faster, and soon, she’d drawn him out to where the water was up to his waist.
