Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Polly woke slowly, luxuriating in the warm nest of furs. Njkall’s arm was heavy across her waist, his body a furnace at her back. She shifted slightly, then stopped.
Everything ached. Not in a bad way, but in a way that reminded her exactly what she’d done last night. She smiled into the furs. She’d made love with Njkall. Completely. Thoroughly. And she wasn’t sorry.
She’d braced herself for this moment. For the cold dawn light to bring regret crashing down, for her body to remember fear, for the familiar urge to flee to send her scuttling back to her own small sleeping cave before he woke.
She’d done it so many times before—slipped away in the grey hours, retreated to the safety of solitude, rebuilt her walls before he could see how much she needed them.
But the regret didn’t come.
She lay still, cataloguing the sensation of waking up beside him, and found only a quiet, steady warmth spreading through her chest. I chose this, she thought. Every part of it. And I would choose it again.
She smiled.
He stirred behind her, his arm tightening briefly, a low rumble of contentment vibrating through his chest. “You’re awake.”
“For a little while now.”
“And you stayed.”
There was something careful in the way he said it, as though he was remembering all those mornings when she’d vanished before he could open his eyes. As though he’d been waiting to see what this morning would bring.
“I stayed,” she agreed, and rolled over in the circle of his arm to face him.
He looked different in the morning light. The hard planes of his face were softened by sleep, the deep-set blue eyes heavy-lidded and warm. The fine lines at their corners—marks of age and responsibility that she’d come to love—creased as he smiled at her.
“Good morning,” he said.
“Good morning.”
For a moment they simply looked at each other, and she felt none of the awkwardness she’d expected.
No desperate need to fill the silence with chatter, no frantic scramble for clothing and distance.
Just the two of them, tangled together in the furs, the fire burned down to embers and the world outside still quiet.
He gently brushed a strand of hair from her face. “How do you feel?”
“Happy.” The word came out before she could second-guess it. “I feel happy, Njkall.”
Something shifted in his expression—a flicker of emotion too quick to name, there and gone—and his thumb traced the curve of her cheekbone. “I’m glad.”
“And you?”
His hand stilled. “I haven’t been this content in a very long time.”
She nodded, her throat unexpectedly tight. “Then we should probably stay like this forever.”
The corner of his mouth quirked. “Is that your plan?”
“I’m considering it.”
“A wise decision, little one.”
She laughed, and the moment lightened again. She snuggled closer to him, the movement bringing her naked body flush against his. The air was cool against her bare skin, but beneath the furs it was warm, and the heat of him seeped into her everywhere they touched.
“You’re going to make me forget I have responsibilities,” he murmured.
“Do you have responsibilities?”
“I do.” His hand moved to her shoulder, his thumb stroking lightly along her collarbone. “Many of them.”
“What kind?”
“The usual.”
“Then we should definitely stay here.”
He chuckled, a low rumble that she felt against her breasts. “You are a bad influence.”
“You bring it out in me.”
“So I do.” His hand slid lower, tracing the line of her spine, and she shivered. “Are you cold?”
“No.”
His touch grew bolder, his big hand spreading across her lower back, fingers splayed over the curve of her hip. “Are you sore?”
She wanted to deny it, but she hesitated long enough that his eyes darkened with regret.
“I was too rough with you.”
“You were nothing of the kind.” She reached up to touch his face, the white fur dense and soft beneath her fingers. “But you are kind of large.”
His mouth curved. “I should be concerned, but I find I like hearing that.”
“You have an ego, Njkall.”
“Only where you’re concerned.”
The words landed softly in the space between them, and she felt them resonate through her entire body before she pulled his head down and kissed him.
He kissed her back, but gently, teasingly, his lips barely brushing hers until she made an impatient sound and caught his lower lip between her teeth.
His growl vibrated against her mouth and he deepened the kiss, sending heat flowing through her body.
She was just about to tell him that she really wasn’t that sore, when he reluctantly pulled away.
“I’m going to wash,” he said. “Do you want to join me?”
She blinked. “You want me to join you?”
He raised one white brow. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because…” She gestured vaguely at herself. “I’m a mess.”
His mouth curved. “You are a beautiful mess.”
She laughed, but she shook her head. “I think I’ll wait. I don’t want to distract you from your responsibilities.”
“Distract me,” he said softly, and bent to kiss her. “Any time, little one.”
He kissed her again, longer this time, and she melted into it, her hands coming up to tangle in his fur. When he finally pulled back, they were both breathing heavily.
“Later,” he promised. “I’ll be back soon.”
She watched him walk away, smiling like an idiot.
I love him.
The thought arrived so quietly that for a moment she almost missed it. Then her smile widened.
Of course she loved him. She wasn’t sure when it had happened, or whether there had ever been a single moment when it happened at all.
Somewhere between crawling into his bed because she was afraid and waiting eagerly for him to come home because she missed him, needing him had turned into wanting him, and wanting him had turned into this.
She loved Njkall.
And strangely enough, that didn’t frighten her at all.
Everything had changed between them, and somehow, nothing had changed at all.
She was still herself. Njkall was still Njkall.
She could tease him and argue with him and send him off to his clan meetings, except now she also knew exactly what his hands could do to her body—and how much she wanted them to do it again.
She was still smiling when she drifted back to sleep, wrapped in his scent and the afterglow of his touch. When she woke again and drifted out into the main cave, the cave was empty but there was a note propped against the teapot. She recognized Njkall’s neat, angular handwriting.
Clan meeting. Back tonight.
She smiled at the simple, familiar message. How many times had she woken to find a similar note over the past year? But today, instead of the small pang of loneliness she usually felt, there was only warmth.
After washing and dressing, she hurried off to join Tess.
The healer’s cave was warm and quiet, the air thick with the scent of dried herbs and the low crackle of the fire Cera kept burning in the corner.
Tess sat cross-legged on a pile of furs, a stack of printed records spread out around her, and her eyes shadowed with the particular exhaustion that never quite seemed to leave her.
She looked up when Polly entered, and something in her expression sharpened.
“You look different.”
She felt heat rise to her cheeks. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Yes, you do.” Tess’s mouth curved—not quite a smile, something harder and more knowing. “You slept with him. And not in the we’re-just-good-friends way.”
There was no point in denying it. Tess had survived too much to be fooled by evasions, and she respected her too much to try. “Yes.”
“Hm.” Tess looked back down at the records, shuffling through a stack of ship manifests. “Because you wanted to?”
“Of course it was because I wanted to.”
“Good.” A pause. “Did he hurt you?”
“No.” She settled onto the furs across from her, tucking her gown around her legs. “He would never hurt me, Tess. You know that by now.”
“I know he hasn’t yet.” The words were flat, matter-of-fact, stripped of accusation.
Tess wasn’t attacking Njkall—she was simply stating what she believed to be true of the universe.
That kindness was temporary. That safety was an illusion.
That sooner or later, everyone wanted something you didn’t want to give.
She understood. She’d believed those things too, once. Some small part of her still did.
“He’s different,” she said quietly.
“They always seem different.” Tess set aside a manifest and picked up another, scanning it with quick, efficient eyes. “Until they’re not.”
“Tess—”
“I’m not trying to argue with you.” Tess’s voice softened slightly. “You’ve been here longer than me. You know him better than I do. If you trust him, that’s your choice.” She looked up, meeting Polly’s eyes. “I just hope you know what you’re getting into.”
“I do.”
Last night had been her choice. Every moment of it, from the first kiss to the last trembling breath. She’d wanted Njkall, and she’d reached for him, and he’d given her exactly what she asked for.
She picked up another manifest, but her thoughts kept returning to the previous night—and the night to come.
“Polly.” Tess’s voice cut through her thoughts. “You’re not reading.”
“Sorry.” She shook her head, trying to clear it. “I was thinking.”
“About him.”
“About a lot of things.”
Tess was quiet for a moment, sorting through manifests with the methodical precision she brought to everything. Then, without looking up, she said, “I’ve been thinking too. About what comes next. About Sherae, or wherever I end up.”
“And?”
“And I know one thing for certain.” Tess’s jaw tightened. “I will never belong to anyone again. Not a person. Not a place. Not a… whatever these Hothians call it when they bond. Never.”
Tess’s words seemed to echo through the cave.
I will never belong to anyone again.
She understood. Gods, how she understood. The fierce, desperate need to own herself, to be the sole author of her choices, to never again be a thing that someone else possessed. She’d felt it every day since her rescue. She felt it now, coiling tight around her ribs, making it hard to breathe.
And even though she knew—knew—that Njkall would never cage her or control her or take away her choices… part of her heard Tess’s words and thought, Yes. That’s what I’m afraid of too.
Sex was something she could choose once. A single night, a single decision, and she could walk away in the morning if she changed her mind. It was terrifying and vulnerable and overwhelming, but it was also bounded. Contained. An experience with a beginning and an end.
Letting Njkall claim her as his mate was different.
The Hothians regarded the mate bond as permanent.
Unbreakable. A connection that would tie her to Njkall for the rest of her life, that would make her his in a way she’d never been anyone’s before.
She knew it wasn’t ownership, knew he would never treat her as property, knew the bond was supposed to be a partnership of equals. But the permanence of it…
What if I change? she thought suddenly. What if he changes? What if the bond traps us both in something that stops working?
What if she woke up one day and realized she’d given away the freedom she’d fought so hard to reclaim?
“Polly?” Tess was watching her now, frowning. “Are you all right?”
“Fine.” She forced a smile. “I’m fine. Let’s look at these records.”
She bent her head over the manifests, pretending to search for patterns in the ship movements, while inside her chest two truths warred with each other.
She loved Njkall. She was certain of that now, certain enough that the word no longer terrified her.
But love and forever were not the same thing. And somewhere deep inside her, forever still sounded too much like no way out.