“So like you in that way, too?”
I chuckle, nipping at his shoulder. “Úlfr is the oldest. If you placed my father, Úlfr and a mountain together, it’d be impossible to pick which was more stubborn.”
“You’re going in a weird order.”
“I’m going in order of who’s my favourite.”
This makes him laugh again, and how I love the sound.
“The last is my youngest brother, Einarr. Broody fucker, always chasing tails.”
“He sleeps around?”
A chuckle rumbles in my chest, remembering when a drunk Einarr hunched over a table. His long blonde hair falling over his shoulders. On anyone else, his ridiculous hair would be feminine; yet on my brother, it made the tall fucker more frightening.
“One specific person,” I answer, Einarr’s voice in my memories complaining about someone who isn’t ready to be claimed.
But I’m not Einarr. Nothing could stop me from claiming what’s mine.
I pull Thomas closer, if that was even possible, the fire dancing over his lovely dark skin. “I’d rather talk about something else…” I say, hushed in the storm and the cabin that protects us.
“We don’t…” he sighs as I brush my lips across his shoulder, up his neck. “We don’t have…everything we need.”
“I have lube and condoms.”
He levels me with an unimpressed look from over his shoulder. “Why am I not surprised?”
“Because you know me,” I say, more serious than I meant, but I wouldn’t take it back. “I know you do, Thomas. Say it.”
He hesitates, our gazes locked, our noses brushing.
“I…I don’t know…”
“Please,” I beg, pressing my face into his cheek. Kissing the corner of his lips. “Please.”
The wind rattles, the fire flicks in the stove, his hooded eyes so dark I could fall into them.
Then he says the words every vampire’s mate speaks when meeting their soulmate, “I know you…” He whispers, eyes full and reaching out to me across a distance so vast it’s impossible we found each other. “Have we met before…?”
And in return, I say the only thing that could ever matter, “Soulmate.”
Chapter Eight - Thomas
Part of me wants to move away from Ketill.
His single-word reply—soulmate—feels too big. The emotions across his face seem too much for one person to contain—let alone give.
But I don’t move away. I turn into him fully and edge closer until our foreheads and noses and…the edges of our lips brush.
“I have no idea what that means,” I whisper. It sounds like a lie.
Ketill is naked, a patchwork blanket over his shoulders, but it’s his face I’m lost to. His eyebrows are thick, and he’s got a small scar on his temple that I trace with my fingers.
“It means…” Ketill gently captures my hand and brings it to his mouth to lay a kiss on each knuckle. “That you were created for me.”
“So cocky,” I murmur, our knees knocking together.
Ketill looks up, his dimple winking. “And I was created for you.”
