I hook my finger under his chin and make him look at me. “Do not finish that sentence. You will never speak poorly of yourself around me.”
His lips attempt a smile. “How about when I’m by myself?”
“I will find out.”
“No, you won’t.”
I press my mouth to his, silencing him. He doesn’t return the kiss, but he doesn’t pull away either. Tears glisten in his eyes when I pull back. “That man wasn’t your fated mate. Ask me how I know.”
His lips tremble with an attempted smile. “Because you are.”
I smile. “That, aye, but there’s another reason.” He seems too tired to guess, so I tell him as I run my fingers through his hair. “Because a wolf would sooner die than harm their fated mate.”
Arlo nods like he knows this, causing a tear to spill down his cheek. “But there are other ways you can hurt me, Gunnar.”
The pain his words cause aches worse than any wound I’ve endured. “So can you.” It makes my heart race with terror, knowing that without even trying, I’ve bared myself to him. We wolves are taught never to show our throats, never to give anyone the chance to hurt us.
If I’m not careful, I’ll give this man my heart for him to do with as he likes.
Arlo nuzzles into my chest. “I’d never hurt you.”
My arms tighten around him. “I know.”
Not intentionally.
Gods, help me. My heart’s already been broken once before. The next time it breaks, I know it will be the last.
As soon as we’re back in bed, Arlo falls asleep using my chest as a pillow.
I can’t seem to quiet my mind. My heart races as if I’ve been running. What are we doing? This was supposed to be a short-lived arrangement. It was meant to be fake, but at some point things between us started feeling real.
I care for him more than I’ve allowed myself to care for anyone in years. When did it happen, and how can I stop it?
If only my feelings were one of those… eye-phones Kieran’s always going on about. You turn them on and then turn themback off. That’s what I wish I could do with my feelings. Shut them off when they become inconvenient, turn them back on when I’m damned ready to deal with them.
The gods are cruel to have made mortals so complex.
I must have fallen asleep at some point because when I open my eyes, the room has brightened. Arlo isn’t in bed, which causes me to sit up straight, heart in my throat. Where did he go? Is he all right?
I’ve got one foot on the floor when the door opens and Arlo walks in with a bright smile. “Good, you’re awake! Just in time for breakfast.” He’s carrying a tray piled with a variety of eggs, crispy bacon, and those things Anders loves. Oh! Pancakes.
My stomach roars when he joins me in bed. “This looks like a feast worthy of Valhalla itself.”
Arlo laughs. “They have pancakes in Valhalla?”
“Surely they do.” I spear a piece of bacon and pancake on my fork and devour it, groaning at the sweet-salty flavor. We eat in companionable silence until our plates are cleared. Patting my full stomach, I lean back in bed with a contented sigh. “I’m stuffed.”
Arlo’s face brightens with pride. “That’s a relief. I haven’t cooked for anyone but myself in years.”
“So that’s why the bacon was so crunchy.”
He squawks in indignation and elbows me in the ribs.
A lie. The bacon was cooked to perfection.
“I hope you aren’t too full. We’re supposed to go cake tasting today.”
“We’re tasting cake?”
