Was the world always so beautiful? Above, the stars spread out like crushed ice, thickly dusting the deep blue of the horizon. The moon is a coy, yellow crescent, hiding the rest of its curve from my admiring gaze.
“The soup is delicious,” Njål says as we eat. “But I miss your fry bread.”
“Thought you must be tired of it by now. I can make some in the morning if you like.”
“Just as I’m patient, I’m also loyal. I love what I love forever.” Setting his empty bowl aside, he takes my hands. “May I tell you now?”
I remember how I stopped him from saying it before. “I wish you would. I haven’t mentioned it since then, and you haven’t either.”
“I tried to show you because actions speak louder than words. But words matter too. I love you, Amarrah. Always and forever, you hold my heart in your pretty, precious hands.”
My hands are rough as rawhide, scarred from years of work and callused on the palms. But the way he studies them, you’d think they were exquisite, the delicate fingers of a princess. I suppose love makes us beautiful to those who cherish us. He slips a ring onto my finger; it’s carved from wood, a treasure he must’ve been working on secretly as winter faded into spring, long before we left the citadel. I wonder if this is what made him act skittish and secretive, not the silent fears I imagined.
“Am I truly enough for you?” I ask.
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve lived for so long, seen so much, and I—”
“I existed,” he corrects. “I didn’t start living until I met you.”
With my heart overflowing, I whisper my love against his lips, and he takes my mouth in a ferocious kiss, all delving tongue and absolute desire. I can’t stop touching him—his wild hair, his strong back and broad shoulders, the silver hoop that ties past to present and lets him move freely, a prisoner no more. When I dig my fingers in, Njål groans and arches into me, burying his face in the curve between my neck and shoulder.
“I fear I’m about to scandalize our travel companions,” he whispers.
“Hm. I’m willing to risk it.”
Since I’ve granted permission, he tumbles me back, using my cloak as additional cushion on top of the soft grass. Starlight, moonlight, and his mouth, I tip my head back at the stars as he works utter magic on my throat, my breasts, my nipples, his strong hands working lower. It seems that only my pleasure matters, and I squirm, breathless.
“Take your dress off, beloved.”
Shameless witch that I am, I do, and then I lie back. There’s no muffling my moans and no need to either. When we’re not traveling, I want his mouth down there and I want to do it to him too, but not until we take a proper bath. Still, this feels amazing, and—oh. He kisses the tip of my breast, sips and nuzzles, and teeth, oh, the teeth.
I’m tingling all over, so wet that I’m tempted to rub myself to verify how this is possible. Panting, he eases over me, braced on his arms.
“Tell me I can have you now,” Njål growls.
“Now and forever.”
He thrusts deep, and we moan in unison. I wrap my legs around his hips, loving the hot glide of him taking me hard and fast. I run my hands over the strange lines of his beautiful-to-me face, over his wide chest and straining arms. At my touch he trembles. I trace the sigils they left on him, caressing his marks because I love them as I do him.
He gasps, throwing his head back. “You feel incredible.”
“So do you.”
I pull his mouth to mine, kissing him hard and deep. His tongue teases mine, taking my mouth as he claims my body. With fraying control, he drives me wild until I’m sobbing with need, writhing beneath him.
“That’s it. Show me how you like it, beauty.”
At his inciting words, I reach between my thighs and rub that spot, working my own juices around, and I even caress his shaft as he slides in and out. Njål snarls in pleasure, his features ravaged with ferocious hunger, and moves faster, pumping with relentless demand.
“Ah. Just like that. Don’t stop. I’m going to—”
“I don’t . . . I don’t know if . . . should I not . . .” Njål can’t get his breath to finish the thought, shudders ravishing him as he moves over me, inside me. He can’t stop, not even to ask a presumably important question.
I’m getting close, so it takes me a few seconds to grasp what he’s trying to say. He’s finished inside me before, so he must be wondering if he can get me pregnant. Since he was changed and cursed, I’m not sure either. He rolls his hips, hitting a spot that makes me scream. How am I supposed to make logical decisions right now? I want, I just want—
“Yes! Keep going. Talk later.”
Pleasure mounts, tightening my body, and I clench on his cock, coming so hard I see stars. There’s a million overhead and those sparking behind my eyes too. The pleasure is too much, overwhelming, and I reel from the wildness of it. As aftershocks quiver my thighs, Njål arches into me, filling me in long, luxurious spurts.
Harsh rasps of breath escape him as he kisses my neck, then touches his forehead to mine. “You’re going to kill me,” he whispers.
I smile. “After all the trouble I went to saving you? I would never. That would be a criminal waste.”
“Every time, it’s a little better. How?” He shakes his head in mock amazement. “Mathematically speaking, it’s quite improbable.”
“It’s because I love you more, exponentially more with each passing moment. So much that there’s no one clever enough to factor the volume.”
“Call it infinite then?” His expression is so soft just before
