Not a laugh.
A purr.
A deep, resonant, bone-vibrating purr that I feel more than hear.
I freeze.
"Are youpurring?"
The rumble intensifies.
"Oh my god. You're purring."
The wings shift slightly, loosening just enough for me to tilt my head back and look up.
Cyprian is awake.
His eyes are open, glowing a soft, steady amber in the dim light. His slate-gray skin is warm—not the volcanic, blistering heat from last night, but a comfortable, radiating warmth that feels like lying on sun-heated stone.
His expression is... intense.
Not in a scary way.
In ayou are mine and I will never let you goway.
Which is somehow both deeply comforting and mildly terrifying.
"Good morning," I say.
He doesn't respond.
He just stares at me with those glowing amber eyes, his sprawling, towering frame sliding up to cup the back of my head. His claws are fully extended, but he's careful—so careful—not to let the sharp tips graze my scalp.
And then he leans down and presses his nose against the side of my neck.
I go very still.
"Uh. Cyprian?"
He inhales deeply.
Like he'sscentingme.
"Are you... are you smelling me right now?"
Another deep inhale.
Then he shifts, his nose moving from my neck to my wrist, where my pulse is hammering against my skin.
He presses his face against my wrist and inhales again.
"Okay," I say slowly. "So we're doing the caveman scent-marking thing. Cool. That's... that's happening."
He makes a low, satisfied rumble deep in his chest.
And then he starts rearranging the furs.
Still holding me.
