Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Polly woke slowly, drifting up through layers of warmth like a swimmer rising towards sunlight.
She was surrounded by fur. By heat. By the slow steady rhythm of breathing that wasn’t her own.
And when her eyes finally opened, she found herself looking at the broad expanse of Njkall’s chest, her cheek pressed against the dense softness of his pelt, her hand still resting over his heart where she’d put it sometime in the night.
She didn’t move.
Usually, waking like this triggered something in her—a small flutter of panic, a need to check her surroundings and remind herself that she was here by choice.
In the first months on Hothrest, she’d sometimes woken with her heart pounding, half-convinced she was back in that terrible place where choices hadn’t existed at all.
But this morning there was no panic.
There was only warmth. Only the quiet darkness of the sleeping cave and the absolute certainty that she was exactly where she wanted to be.
That’s new, she thought, a smile tugging at her mouth. And maybe even more significant than what happened last night.
Her face heated at the memory.
Last night had been wonderful. Overwhelming and gentle and nothing like she’d feared. But a part of her had always hoped that someday, with someone she trusted, she might be able to enjoy being touched again.
What she hadn’t known was that she could wake afterward and still feel like herself. That she could lie here in his arms with the memory of his hands on her skin and feel nothing but contentment. She could stay because she wanted to stay.
Maybe I really am healing.
The thought felt too fragile to examine closely, so she simply rested her cheek against his chest and listened to his heart for a long time before slipping carefully out of his arms.
He stirred but didn’t wake. One large hand flexed against the furs where she’d been, seeking her warmth, and then relaxed again.
A soft rumble moved through his chest—not quite a snore, more like a contented vibration—and she had to press her hand to her mouth to keep from laughing at the absurd tenderness that flooded through her at the sound.
She slipped out of the sleeping cave and padded barefoot across the cool stone of the main cave.
She gathered clean clothes and washed quickly in the cold water of the little spring at the back of their quarters. Her body was pleasantly sore in places she hadn’t expected, and every small ache brought back another memory of his hands and his mouth on her body.
Last night was real. I asked for what I wanted. And he gave it to me. And I’m still here. I’m still me. Nothing broke.
She dressed in a simple blue tunic and leggings and braided her damp hair back from her face. Then she took a breath, squared her shoulders, and went back to the main cave.
Njkall was awake.
He crouched at the cooking hearth, his back to her, bringing the fire back to life. The light from the new flames danced over his white fur, tracing the powerful lines of his shoulders and the broad expanse of his back.
Apparently one passionate encounter hadn’t satisfied her curiosity about his body. If anything, it had made the problem considerably worse.
He looked over his shoulder, and their eyes met, something warm and new passing between them.
“Good morning,” he said, his voice still low and rough with sleep, and it did something to her insides that she was going to have to examine later.
“Good morning.”
“You’re up early.”
“I wanted to wash.”
He nodded as though there was nothing remarkable about the morning at all, and for some reason that made her love him a little more.
Love. She shoved the word hastily aside. Not yet.
He rose to his feet and came to her side.
For the first time, she wondered what the rules were now.
Last night had changed something between them.
She could feel it, but she had no idea what she was supposed to do about it.
But he simply reached out and gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes.” The answer came easily. “Better than all right. I’m happy.”
The fine lines around his eyes crinkled. “Good.”
“Are you?”
His smile transformed his stern face. “Very.”
That was enough.
They made breakfast together as they had a hundred times before.
But now when their hands brushed, she felt it all the way to her toes.
When he leaned close to reach past her for the dried herbs, she breathed in the warm familiar scent of him and wanted to bury her face in his fur.
When his deep laugh rumbled through his chest, she remembered feeling that vibration against her own skin.
Everything was the same. Everything was wonderfully different.
After they ate, she reached across the low table and touched his hand. His eyes darkened immediately, and heat curled low in her belly. Oh. So that was still there. Good to know.
“I should go check on Tess,” she said, not quite pulling away.
“I’ll walk you to the healer’s cave.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I know.” He turned his hand beneath hers, his enormous palm cradling her smaller one. “I want to.”
Something squeezed gently around her heart. I want to. Not I should or I need to make sure you’re safe or any of the other careful protective reasons he usually gave. Just want.
“Okay,” she said softly. “Then come with me.”
They walked through the quiet morning caves together, her hand still clasped in his, past clan members who were beginning to stir and cook their own breakfasts, past children who ran laughing through the corridors and called greetings to their clan leader.
He returned each greeting with a nod, a word, or a brief touch to a small head or shoulder.
She watched him. This was who he was. Not simply the male who made her feel safe. He carried an entire clan on those enormous shoulders, and somehow he still found room for her.
This is who I’m—
She stopped the thought before it could finish. Not yet.
He stopped at the entrance to the healer’s cave.
“I’ll leave you here,” he said. “I have duties to attend to. But if you need me—”
“I know where to find you.” She smiled at him. “Go. Do your clan leader things.”
His hand lightly brushed her shoulder and then he was gone, his massive frame disappearing around the curve of the corridor.
She watched him go for a moment longer than was strictly necessary.
“You’re smiling.”
She turned. Tess was sitting up in bed, wrapped in furs, and watching her with sharp, suspicious eyes.
“Am I?”
“You look different today.” Tess studied her as she crossed the room and settled into the chair next to the bed. “Lighter. Less wound up.”
“I’m not usually wound up.”
“You usually look like you’re waiting for something to jump out of a wall.”
“Nothing has jumped out of a wall yet.”
“Exactly. Your vigilance is working.”
She laughed despite herself, and Tess’s eyes narrowed.
“Something happened.”
“Maybe,” she said.
“Not maybe. You’re practically glowing.” Tess glanced towards the entrance Njkall had just disappeared through. “It’s him.”
She felt the color rushing to her cheeks and Tess gave a satisfied grunt.
“Thought so.”
“Nothing happened.”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
Polly glared at her.
“Is he your mate?” Tess asked, and she froze.
Mate.
Last night she had lain beneath Njkall’s hands and asked him to touch her. She had given herself over to pleasure and woken this morning without fear.
But this was different. A mate was permanent.
A mate was a bond that couldn’t be undone.
A promise that didn’t end when you changed your mind or wanted something different or simply needed to walk away.
She knew with absolute certainty that Njkall would sooner cut off his own arm than keep her against her will.
He’d proven it every night for a year, holding still, letting her set every single pace.
But there was still a small animal part of her that heard mate and thought cage.
Her chest tightened in a sudden wave of panic.
“No,” she said quickly. “We’re not… no.”
Tess’s brows rose. “No? You sleep in his bed, you live in his quarters, you look at him like he hung the stars, and after whatever happened between you last night, he’s still not your mate?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Is it?”
“Yes.” She pulled her knees up, wrapping her arms around them. She knew it was a defensive posture but she couldn’t help it.
“Then what is he?”
He’s my friend. My protector. The person who makes me feel safe.
The male she ran to when the nightmares were bad. The one who made her laugh. The one who had held her through the worst days of her life and never once demanded anything in return. The one whose bed she sought out every night.
The one I love.
Her breath caught. She wasn’t ready for that word either.
“I don’t know,” she finally admitted.
Tess considered her for a moment, then she asked, “Do you want him to be your mate?”
Yes, one part of her answered instantly.
But another part recoiled just as quickly. Forever. No way out. No changing her mind. The old panic fluttered suddenly beneath her ribs, faint but unmistakable.
Last night hadn’t frightened her. Being touched hadn’t frightened her. Wanting him hadn’t frightened her. But forever?
She stared down at her clasped hands.
“I don’t know,” she repeated.
And for the first time that morning, the fear returned.