Cian released him with a wet sound, his tongue soothing over the mark. “Mine.”
“Yours,” Reaper gasped, his hands sliding up Cian’s back, his nails raking down his spine. “Always yours.”
The words sent a jolt through Cian, sharp and sweet, like lightning striking bone. He groaned, his hips stuttering, his grip tightening. “Love you, Reaper?—”
“I know.” Reaper’s voice was rough, his breath hot against hisear. “I love you, too.”
They moved together, a tangle of limbs and need, their bodies slick with sweat, their breaths ragged. Cian’s fingers tightened around Reaper’s as both their hands wrapped around their cocks. His thumb pressed against the head of Reaper’s cock, and his love shattered, his release spilling over their hands, his body arching off the bed.
The sight of him losing himself and becoming undone sent Cian over the edge, his own release crashing through him, his hips stuttering as he spilled over Reaper’s stomach, his chest, marking him, claiming him all over again.
For long peaceful moments, only the sound of their ragged breathing, the crackle of the fire, and the slow, steady thud of their hearts filled the crannóg.
Then Reaper’s fingers were in Cian’s hair, pulling him in for a slow, deep, and sweet kiss. “Love you,” he murmured against his lips. “Even when you’re a fucking menace.”
Cian huffed a laugh, pressing his forehead to Reaper’s. “Love you, too, Grá Croí.”
Reaper’s breath hitched, just for a second. Then he rolled them so they were tangled together. “Say it again.”
He didn’t hesitate. “Grá Croí.” He pressed a kiss to Reaper’s temple. “Mine.”
Reaper’s smile was soft, and his eyes dark and warm. “Yours.”
For the first time, Cian fully believed it. Believed in the bond, in the future, in this. In Cian and Reaper. The Wolf Walker and the Shifter. The Grá Croís.
The fire burned low until the shadows danced across their skin, but neither of them moved. Neither of them wanted to move. Because this—here, now—was forever.
And forever was theirs.
21
The first lightof dawn crept through the cracks in the curtains, painting thin gold stripes across the rumpled sheets. Reaper lay on his side, propped up on one elbow, watching the steady rise and fall of Cian’s chest. The man was a masterclass in pretending to sleep. His breath stayed even, his lashes dark against his cheekbones, and he kept one arm slung possessively over Reaper’s waist.
You are awake, you faker.
Cian’s lips twitched. “I am.” His voice rumbled, followed by a wave of love through their bond. “Was waiting to see how long it’d take you to notice.”
Reaper snorted, reaching out to trace a finger down the bridge of Cian’s nose. “Six months of loving me and you still think you can fool me.”
Cian’s eyes fluttered open, that moss-green gaze locking onto him with a heat that never failed to send a jolt straight through his chest. “And you still think I don’t know when you’re staring.”
“Can’t help it.” He leaned in, brushing their lips together. “You’re pretty when you’re faking sleep.”
Cian huffed, but his hand came up to cup the back of his neck, pulling him into a slow, deep, lazy kiss that made his toes curl, and his pulse kick up. When they broke apart, Cian’s thumb stroked over his bottom lip. “Merry Christmas, Grá Croí.”
Reaper’s chest tightened. He still wasn’t used to being something precious to someone. Especially when that someone was just as precious to him too. “Merry Christmas,” he murmured back, pressing their foreheads together.
For a long moment, they just breathed, in and out, synced up, like always. The bond between them hummed, a steady, warm thrum of contentment. It had taken time to figure out the logistics, the balance, and the way two people who’d spent lifetimes alone could suddenly share everything. But he wouldn’t trade moments like this for anything.
Cian shifted, rolling onto his back and tugging Reaper with him until they were tangled together, limbs and sheets and the faint scent of pine from the tree Ward had insisted on dragging inside. “You’re thinking too loud.”
Reaper elbowed him lightly in the ribs. “Shut up.”
Cian grinned, unfazed. Then his expression turned thoughtful. “What’s happening with Oisín and Zero?”
He blinked. “The fuck?”
“Don’t play dumb.” Cian’s fingers traced idle patterns on his bare shoulder. “You felt it at the bonfire last night.”
