“You fought well,” I murmur into her hair.
A soft, tired laugh vibrates against my chest. “So did you. Even if you did look like a grumpy mountain the whole time.”
“I am a grumpy mountain.”
“My mountain.” Her fingers curl into the fabric of my shirt. “Don’t argue. I’m too tired to win.”
I tighten my arm around her, and for the first time in a century, I let the silence be a comfort and not a warning. The fire crackles. The wards hum. Her breathing evens out against my neck. This is peace. Not the absence of war, but the presence of this. Her weight against me. The certainty of her choice.
One night. One fire. One future, held right here.
Her warmth is a brand against my side, a quiet claim I feel in my bones. I shift, turning into her, and my hand finds the curve of her hip. The firelight paints her skin in shades of gold andamber. I lower my head, my mouth finding hers in a slow, deep kiss that tastes of tea and her. It’s not a question. It’s an answer.
My hands slide under her sweater, pushing the soft wool up and over her head. She arches into my touch, a soft sound catching in her throat as my palms skim her ribs, the full weight of her breasts. I lower my mouth to one peaked nipple, and her fingers twist in my hair, not pulling, just holding on.
I lift her, carrying her the few steps to the bed, laying her down amidst the quilts. I strip off my own clothes, my eyes never leaving hers. The air is cool on my skin, but the heat coming from her could forge steel. I kneel over her, bracing my weight on one arm, and she reaches for me, her hands sliding down my chest, my stomach, wrapping around my cock. Her touch is sure, her gaze steady.
“I need you,” she whispers, her voice thick. “Now, Hardin.”
I guide myself to her pussy, the head of my throbbing cock pressing against her wet heat. I push in slowly, a long, deliberate slide that makes us both gasp. She is so tight, so perfect, her body opening for me, taking me in until I am buried to the hilt. I still, my forehead pressed to hers, just feeling the incredible rightness of it.
I begin to move, a slow, deep rhythm that is nothing like battle and everything like coming home. Her legs wrap around my waist, her heels digging into the small of my back, pulling me deeper with every thrust. Her breath hitches, her hips rising to meet mine. The only sounds are our ragged breathing and the soft, wet slide of our bodies joining.
I shift my angle, and her back arches off the bed, a sharp cry tearing from her lips. “There. Right there.”
I drive into that spot again, and again, my pace building, losing its careful control. Her nails pierce my shoulders as she clings to me, her cries becoming a steady, pleading litany. I feel the tension coiling in her, a spring wound tight, and I poureverything I have into the next thrust. She shatters around me, her inner muscles clenching, milking my cock.
Her body still trembles around mine, a series of delicate aftershocks that pull a low groan from my throat. I don’t stop. I can’t. The rhythm is a primal thing now, a deep, driving need that owns us both. I slide almost all the way out, feeling her clench around the head of my cock, a silent plea, before I sink back into her wet heat.
“Hardin.” My name is a breathless prayer on her lips.
I brace my weight on my forearms, cradling her face, and change the angle. My thrusts become shorter, deeper, each one a deliberate claim. Her fingernails dig into the muscles of my back, her hips lifting to meet every one of my movements. The world narrows to this: the slick sound of our joining, the ragged symphony of our breathing, the feel of her pussy gripping me like a fist.
I lower my mouth to hers, swallowing her soft cries. The kiss is messy, desperate, all tongue and shared breath. I taste her, the unique flavor that is simply Krista, and it’s more intoxicating than any spirit. My hand slides between our bodies, my thumb finding her clit. She gasps against my mouth, her body bowing off the bed.
“Yes,” she hisses, her eyes squeezed shut. “Don’t stop. Please.”
I circle that tight bundle of nerves in time with my thrusts, my pace relentless. Her inner muscles flutter around my cock, a warning, a promise. Her legs lock around me, holding me deep inside her as another climax starts to build. I feel it in the way her breath hitches, in the way her entire body strains toward mine.
I drive into her, again and again, each thrust a vow I never knew how to speak. This is where I belong. Not in exile. Not in the cold. Here. Buried in her warmth, lost in her. Her releasecrashes over her, a silent, powerful wave that makes her cry out, her body convulsing around me. The sensation is too much. My own control shatters. I thrust once, twice more, deep and hard, and my own climax rips through me, a white-hot flood that leaves me shaking, my forehead pressed against her shoulder.
The scent of our joining hangs thick in the air, a musk of sweat and satisfaction. I shift my weight off her, but she makes a small, protesting noise, her arm slung over my waist holding me in place. I settle beside her, pulling the quilt over our cooling skin. Her head finds its spot on my shoulder again, her breathing deep and even.
After a long moment, she stirs. “I feel like I’ve been run over by a very enthusiastic, very large truck.”
“I will take that as a compliment.”
She laughs, a low, throaty sound. “You should. Now I need a bath. And you’re coming with me. No arguments.”
The tub is an old, deep clawfoot monstrosity that takes an age to fill. I light the candles on the sill with a flick of my fingers, a simple bit of magic that still makes her smile. Steam begins to curl in the air, smelling of the herbs she tosses in—rosemary and something sharp and clean.
She tests the water with her toes. “Perfect. Get in.”
“I will not fit.”
“You’ll fit. You’re just being stubborn. Orc-sized personal space issues.” She steps in first, sinking into the water with a sigh that seems to come from her soul. She looks up at me, her skin already glistening, her dark curls starting to dampen and curl at the ends. “See? Plenty of room.”
It is a lie. I lower myself in behind her, my knees jutting up near her ears, the water sloshing dangerously close to the rim. She settles back against my chest, and somehow, it works. The water embraces us both. She leans her head back against my shoulder, her eyes closed.
