“Stay tomorrow night.”
Her heart fluttered. Tomorrow was a much bigger word than tonight.
“Ask me tomorrow.”
Slowly, his mouth curved.
“I will.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Polly was still there.
Njkall knew it before he fully surfaced from sleep—knew it by the small warm weight against his side, the slow soft breathing near his ribs, and the tickle of dark hair spread across his chest. For a long moment he lay still, afraid to move, afraid that any shift might wake her and send her scurrying back to the cold little cave she’d claimed as her refuge.
But she didn’t stir. And she didn’t leave.
She stayed.
He’d grown used to the other kind of morning. The empty space beside him, still faintly warm. The furs disturbed where a small body had lain through the night, then slipped away in the grey hour before dawn as though she’d never been there at all. He’d never begrudged her that retreat—he understood it, understood the fear behind it better than she probably realized. But he’d felt the absence every single time. A quiet ache he’d learned to swallow along with all the other things he’d taught himself not to want.
But last night she had come to him deliberately.
I want to share your bed.
She stirred against him, her nose wrinkling as she surfaced from sleep. Grey eyes opened and blinked up at him.
“You’re staring at me.”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“A while,” he admitted.
“That’s creepy.”
“Is it?”
“Very.”
He considered that. “I don’t care.”
Her mouth twitched. “Apparently we’re getting very honest around here.”
“You demanded it, little one.”
“I did.”
She stretched, then settled against him again instead of getting up. Another small choice. But gods, he treasured it.
“Why were you staring?” she asked.
“Because you were still here. And I didn’t want it to end.”
Her expression changed.
“Did you always notice?”
