“We don't have to—” he starts again.
I wrap my hand around him. Or try to. My fingers don't even close all the way around.
The sound he makes is inhuman. A growl that rumbles through his whole body, his hips jerking up into my grip.
“Like this?” I stroke, watching his face. Learning what makes his breath catch, what makes his eyes flutter closed. “Tell me what you need.”
“Tighter.” The word comes out strangled. “You won't hurt me. You can't.”
I tighten my grip, and he groans. I find a rhythm, using both hands now to work him, and his head falls back, tendons standing out in his neck. He's massive in my hands, burning hot, and the thought that I'm doing this to him, that I'm the one making him fall apart, sends another pulse of heat through me.
“Maren—” His voice is wrecked. “I'm going to?—”
“Yes. Come for me.”
He does. His whole body goes rigid, a roar tearing from his throat, and he spills over my hands in hot pulses. I work him through it the way he worked me, gentling my touch as the tension drains from his muscles.
When it's over, he pulls me against his chest, both of us breathing hard, slick with oil, sweat and each other.
His hand traces down my side, fingers slow and heavy, and I feel him stirring against my hip again.
“Wait,” I say. “Not tonight.”
He stops. Immediately. His hand goes still and his arms wrap around me instead. “Okay.”
“Come here,” I say.
We figure out the logistics of sleep. The bed is hopeless for him. He stretches out on the floor, his back against the bed frame, and pulls me down in front of him. I settle between his legs, my back against his chest, and his arms wrap around me, heavy and warm.
I can feel his heartbeat through the thin fabric of my shirt, slow and steady.
“The beast?” I ask.
“Quiet.”
“Good.”
“Maren.” His voice is sleep-thick, vibrating against my back where his ribcage presses.
“Mm?”
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
His arm tightens around me, pulling me closer.
“For staying.” His lips brush my hair. “For not running. For being here.”
“Where else would I be?”
He doesn't answer. Just holds me, his massive body curved around mine like a shield, and I listen to his heartbeat slow as sleep finally takes him.
In the next room, I can hear Mother Sanque turning pages.
And somewhere out there, his brother is screaming in the darkness.
KOVREN
