39. Aryn
Aryn
I wake before dawn with Cato curled against my chest. His breathing is deep and even, one arm slung possessively over my waist while his face is tucked into the crook of my neck. The two puncture marks on his shoulder are scabbed over this morning, and I stare at them for a long time.
I’ve never bitten anyone before.
To our people, a bite is the ultimate sign of claiming.
It’s the deepest show of trust between partners.
Cato knows the damage my fangs could inflict.
He knows if I shifted my mouth a few inches higher on his neck and bit hard enough, I could tear his flesh away and drain him dry before he could fight back.
But beyond that, it’s a primal, ancient urge to show the world exactly who he belongs to.
The monster inside me purrs as I stare at the wounds, wanting to pin him down and bite him everywhere. It wants to leave marks on his neck and down his arms, then spread his thighs and mark him there too.
My instincts roar to life with an intensity that makes me shudder.
Everything inside me wants to spoil him—feed him, clothe him, pamper him, and fuck him until he’s dripping, then keep doing it until his belly swells with my young inside.
It wants to build a home around him and keep him until the world outside no longer matters.
I close my eyes and breathe through it, forcing the urge back down where it belongs. Reasonable thought doesn’t matter to that side of me—it doesn’t care that he can’t biologically carry a child.
It just wants it.
It wants everything.
But despite Cato’s near-confession last night, I’m not sure he’s ready for that depth of claiming yet. Not fully. Hells, it’s barely been a week since I stormed through those gates and gave in to this madness, but that doesn’t seem to matter.
Nothing about this fits into any mold.
He takes a deep breath and snuggles in further. I let the instincts settle as I pet his hair and kiss his forehead. Even without giving in to them, I can take care of him. I can give him this.
I slip from the bed without waking him and dress quietly, then head out to the market.
When I return a short while later, I carry a tray of warm breakfast. Fresh sweet bread steams from the oven, and I grabbed some soft cheese and sliced melon as well, along with a mug of vark for myself.
When I set it on the table, Cato stirs, blinking sleepily up at me with that rumpled, confused expression that always makes my heart clench.
“What’s this?” he mumbles, pushing himself up with a small wince.
I rush to his side, fingers drifting over the bite mark as I examine his face. “Are you sore? Did I hurt you?”
“I mean, you pounded my ass into next Tuesday,” he says with a huff, “then basically stabbed me with those daggers in your mouth.”
“Let me see,” I murmur as I tug him closer, dragging my thumb over the bite. It’s not infected or angry, just bruised. “I lost my healing salves with my pack, but I can go buy some. They’ll help with both.”
Cato stares at me for a long second, then blinks a few times. “You’re absolutely, one-thousand-percent, never going to put a healing salve on my asshole. Are you serious right now?”
My mouth opens and closes before I scoff. “I will if it’s hurt!”
“Oh, my fucking gods,” he groans, dragging his palm down his face. “Aryn, I’m fine.”
“Will you at least let me bring you breakfast?”
He stares at me wide-eyed for another long second before his gaze drifts to the food on the table. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to.” I adjust the pillows behind him, then bring the tray over and settle it across his lap. “Eat while it’s warm.”
His expression is equal parts bewildered, fond, and exasperated, but he picks up the bread and takes a bite.
I sit on the corner of the bed and drink from my mug, making sure he eats enough.
When he’s finished, he heads into the bathroom, but as soon as he’s done, I’m waiting to help him into his clothes.
I kneel and hold his pants out, being extra careful as I work them over his ass, then press a kiss to the bite mark as I pull his shirt over his head.
Cato finally huffs and catches my wrist. “Aryn, what the fuck is going on?”
“Last night was a lot and—”
“I’m not fragile,” he snaps as his patience wears thin, “and I don’t need to be coddled. I can do this myself.”
My fingers pause on the hem of his shirt, knuckles brushing his stomach underneath. The truth rises so strongly I almost say it out loud.
Because I’ve claimed you.
Because you’re mine.
Because I want to take care of you for the rest of forever, in this life and any others.
Instead, I lean in and press a kiss to his lips. “Because I like taking care of you,” I say softly. “Let me.”
He searches my face for a long moment, something vulnerable flickering in his eyes before he sighs and deflates. “Alright,” he says as he hands me the comb, “but just so we’re abundantly clear, I put my foot down at the healing salves.”
I preen as I brush his hair and trim his beard. Cato even indulges me and waits to put his coat on so I can help him into it. We’re stepping out of our room when Brihn comes rushing over, his braid swishing behind him.
He nods a polite good morning to us both before jumping straight to business. “My contact at the castle responded. The Vaelor has agreed to a private audience.”
Relief hits me so hard my shoulders sag. “That’s… amazing.”
Finally, forward movement.
“I agree,” Brihn says with a cautious smile. “If it’s alright with you—both of you—I’ll travel with you to the capital.”
“Yes, of course,” I say immediately. “I would love that.”
Cato squeezes my hand and nods. “After everything you’ve done for us here, you could do damn well what you please and I’d agree to it.”
Brihn smile turns radiant. “It’s settled, then.
Since we know the rebels are in the area, several of my guards will join us for protection.
We’ll travel on sylvaren, and I’ll arrange a wagon.
Supplies are easier that way, and it allows for rest on the roads.
If you have no objections, we’ll leave at first light. ”
“How long is the trip?” Cato asks.
Brihn tilts his head back and forth. “Depends on the weather and if we run into trouble on the way. Two days, if all goes well. Longer if it doesn’t.”
Cato groans. “Don’t jinx us. Luck hasn’t exactly been on our side.”
Brihn claps him on the shoulder with a fanged grin. “Well, maybe the Fates will see to it our fortune changes.”
“It would be in our best interest if they did,” Cato mutters, but returns Brihn’s smile with a cautious one of his own.
As Brihn leaves to begin preparations, Cato and I track down the others to tell them the good news.
We split duties, so while Lillith, Taryn, and Cameron take stock of supplies and replenish in the market, Cato and I join Ronan in the armory.
We sharpen blades, restring the bow I stole, and examine our weapons.
Cato purchases a few extra knives and I refill on arrows, just in case.
The work is grounding, and the day turns into late afternoon before I know it. Ronan works on wrapping his hilt in fresh leather as Cato pulls me aside.
“I, uh…” He rolls his lips between his teeth and glances away.
The obvious show of nerves steals my attention. “What is it?”
“You can’t make fun of me for this,” he warns.
My brows fly up, and I barely fight back my smile. “Rethinking the salve? A saddle can be a little… bumpy.”
“Oh, my gods, no, I’m not…” He trails off, then drags a palm over his chin before planting his hands on his hips. “You’re fucking with me.”
My lips twitch. “Maybe a little.”
He crosses his arms and glances away, refusing to hold my eyes. “Here’s the thing. I’ve kinda… never ridden these things.”
“Of course you haven’t,” I say, brows furrowing, but they smooth out as I realize what he’s trying to say. “Horses, either?”
He gives me a sheepish look. “No. I don’t…” He trails off again, then releases a resigned sigh. “They freak me out, okay? When we were kids, Gideon told me they didn’t like my hair, and—”
I can’t help it. I burst out laughing, then when I try to stifle it, I only get louder.
“Ass,” he hisses as he shoves my shoulder. “You said you wouldn’t laugh!”
“Technically, I said I wouldn’t make fun of you.” Cato turns to walk away, but I catch him by the wrist and pull him back, fighting to keep my face neutral. “Don’t go, please. I’m sorry. Finish your story.”
He glares at me for a minute before caving with a roll of his eyes.
“He told me they were scared of the color orange, and I didn’t believe him.
So, obviously, he had to prove it to me, and we snuck into the stables.
Gideon told me to pet one, but he fucking spooked it.
I nearly pissed myself running away. I haven’t gotten close to one since. ”
“Why don’t we go visit the stables?” I suggest, gesturing at the sunny sky above us. “The weather is nice. We can find a friendly one and practice.” Cato is still uncertain, so I let the teasing fall from my face as I take a step closer. “We’ll ride together.”
He sizes me up before glancing down at himself. “Listen. I don’t know if you know this, but we’re not exactly small guys.”
I hum as I tug him forward, knocking his hips against mine. “Trust me, I’m very aware you’re not a small guy.”
“I can hear you,” Ronan grumbles.
Cato coughs a laugh and flips him off, eyes never leaving mine. “They can hold us,” I promise. “Sylvaren are hearty. They could easily carry twice our weight, and most have great temperaments. You’ll love them.”
He doesn’t look entirely convinced, but nods and takes my hand. The stables sit near the main gates, carrying the sweet scent of hay as we step inside. We speak with one of the stable hands, who leads us to a mature mare.
I stay close, guiding Cato’s hands as he strokes along her neck. “Her name is Nymir,” I tell him. “She’s calm. She doesn’t care what color your hair is.”
Cato huffs a nervous laugh, but when she knickers softly and tries to nibble at his fingers, a breathtaking smile splits his face. He runs his hand through her mane, and she leans into the touch, tossing her head.
“Would it be all right if we rode her?” I ask.
The stable hand nods enthusiastically. “Of course!” She enters the stall and prepares Nymir while we watch.
I explain each piece of tack to Cato as it goes on—the blanket over her broad back, the double saddle as it’s cinched into place, and the bridle as it’s looped around her head. Once everything is secure, the stable hand waves Cato forward to take the reins.
His shoulders are stiff as he leads Nymir toward the training ring, so I quietly ask for privacy. She gives me a knowing smile and slips back into the barn, leaving us alone.
Hooves have trampled the snow into mud, and rocks crunch under our feet as we lead her around the perimeter a few times. Cato watches the way she walks, paying close attention to how her back rolls with the movement.
We halt, and I step beside Nymir. “Watch me first.”
I show him how to approach, gather the reins, and swing into the saddle. Nymir stands patiently, ears flicking forward as I settle my weight. I pat her neck and slide down again.
“Your turn.”
Cato grimaces, but blows out a determined breath. “Yep. Okay.”
I move in close, planting my hands on his hips to help guide him. “Foot in the stirrup. Grab the pommel, and on three, push off and swing your leg over.”
We count down together, and I give him a boost as he climbs into the saddle. He’s a little clumsy, but he makes it up. Nymir shifts under the new weight but stays calm, and I keep one hand on his thigh to steady him as he finds his balance.
Seeing him push past his nerves hits me harder than I expect. In our world, trust like this doesn’t come easily.
“Good,” I murmur. “Loosen up. Relax your hips and let your body move with hers.”
He circles the ring a few times while I keep pace beside him, watching the stiffness gradually leave his frame. “Ready for me to join you?”
He glances down skeptically. “You’re sure she can hold us both?”
“Positive.” When he nods, I swing up behind him and settle close, chest pressed to his spine and thighs bracketing his. I reach around to take the reins, arms caging him in as I pull him back against me.
“Comfortable?” I ask, lips brushing his ear.
Cato lets out a shaky breath. “Yeah. This feels really different with you behind me.”
“Pretty sure you said that last night, too.”
Cato gasps my name as he elbows me. I grin and nudge Nymir into a slow walk, the gentle sway of her gait rocking us together. I keep one arm looped around his waist while my other hand holds the reins.
“We’ll ride together on the journey, so you need to get used to how it feels.” I press a slow kiss just below his ear. “Relax into me. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”
Cato shivers. “You’re cheating.”
I nip at his earlobe. “Am I? You’re the one squirming in my lap, kitten.”
He lets out a flustered laugh that shifts into a groan when I kiss down the side of his neck. “I can’t believe I’m actually saying this out loud, but we can’t spend the entire trip like this.”
“Why not?”
“I’d show you,” he hisses, “but we’re in public.”
“No one’s watching,” I argue, nipping at him again before I exhale. “Though I suppose you’re right. We shouldn’t condition our bodies to react to riding, or the others might see more than they asked for.”
He chuckles, his hand tightening on my thigh as he leans his weight back into me. “Thanks for this.”
I press another kiss to the back of his neck. “It’s the least I could do, since you won’t let me use the healing salve.” He throws his head back and laughs from deep in his belly. Nymir doesn’t flinch. She simply carries us along, steady and untroubled.