Mara #2
His weight pins me to the bed and I don’t want him anywhere else.
Our skin is slick where we’re pressed together, his heart slowing against me.
Over his shoulder, through the window, the light has gone gold and low.
The sun’s going down. We’ve been at this for hours, long enough that I lost the whole afternoon somewhere between his mouth and his hands, and I didn’t feel a minute of it pass.
His breathing goes deep and even against my neck. I don’t slip away right off. I stay where I am and watch him sleep a while, the hard set of his face gone soft. Asleep, he’s soft and unguarded and entirely mine.
When I’m sure he’s all the way under, I slide out from beneath him by inches, careful, and ease off the bed.
My tail drags behind me, limp, dead weight across the floorboards.
My lion’s still down deep in me, napping off whatever he did to her, and the tail won’t lift no matter how I will it to move.
I shoot a glare back at Aaron, sprawled across our bed breathing slow and easy without a care in the world.
The minute my lion wakes up, this tail is going right across that handsome face of his. He’s earned every bit of it.
I find a nightgown in the dresser and pull it on. My legs are unsteady under me, sore in a way I’ll be feeling tomorrow, and I take the stairs slow. Down in the kitchen I wash my hands at the sink and go looking for something to eat, because all at once I’m starving.
I pull the fridge open and the cold air rolls over me. My hand goes to my belly, presses flat, and stays there.
A hand slides around me from behind and covers mine over my belly. I gasp. His chest comes warm against my back, and he buries his face in my neck, breathing me in.
“I thought you were asleep,” I whisper.
“I was.” His lips move against my neck. “Until you left me.”
“I didn’t hear you get up.” I turn the question over and it doesn’t add up. “How did you—“
He turns me around by the hips, and before I finish he picks me up. I squeal, my hands flying to his shoulders, and my tail comes alive and swishes behind me as my lion finally stirs awake down in me. He carries me across the kitchen and sets me on the island.
My tail swings around and pops him right across the face, the tassel cracking against his cheek. He doesn’t even blink. He just chuckles. “I know. I had that coming.”
My tail draws back to pop him again, and this time his hand shoots up and catches it mid-swing. He brings the tassel to his mouth and presses a slow kiss to it, his eyes on mine the whole time, and grins. The fight drains right out of my tassel and it curls soft against his palm.
“What has gotten into you?” I ask.
He leans in and kisses me, slow and easy, and I notice now that he’s pulled on a pair of sweatpants, his chest still bare. He pulls back.
“Are you hungry?” he asks. “I’ll make sure you eat.”
“Wha—“ I blink at him.
He crosses to the sink, washes his hands, then opens the fridge and starts setting things on the counter beside me.
“Your eyes,” I say.
He glances at me and nudges the fridge shut with his hip, his arms full. “Huh, baby?”
“They were black.” I watch his face. “Black like there was no life in them.”
He shrugs and pulls pots and pans down from the cabinet. “Oh. That was probably the dark magic I siphoned off Eric wearing off me.”
He takes a pitcher down, fills it at the sink, and turns and holds it out to me, stealing a kiss while I take it. “Here, baby. Drink up.”
I wrap both hands around the pitcher and just stare at him, this man who scared an entire pack speechless a few hours ago and is standing in our kitchen now making me eggs with dark magic bleeding out of his eyes.
“You’re very powerful, Aaron,” I say.
He’s already at the stove, his back to me. “Mm-hmm.” He lets the pan heat. Then he turns his head just enough to catch me over his shoulder. “And I hope you understand what that means.”
My mouth falls open. I don’t have an answer for him, and my tail gives me away, flapping nervous little slaps against the side of the island.
“I’m not playing with you, Mara.” He turns back to the stove. “You get hurt, it becomes a problem.”
He cracks an egg into the pan one-handed. “I want you to listen to me while we do this. We stop Eric together. But you don’t try to save me.” He goes quiet over the stove for a moment. “Do you understand?”
I don’t answer. I can’t promise that. My lion would never let me mean it.
He stops cooking and turns all the way around. The look he gives me means every word. I take a slow gulp of water just to do something with the quiet.
“Maybe,” he says slowly, “I should just take you to Ahmal until this is done.”
The pitcher comes away from my mouth so fast water sloshes over my hand. “No.” It comes out too fast, no dressing it up. “Okay. Okay. I’ll behave.”
He crosses to me and sets his hands on my thighs, easing them apart just enough to step in close.
He leans in and kisses me, and this one’s gentle, nothing like the man who took me apart upstairs.
He pulls back and looks at me. “I love you.” Then he turns around and goes back to the stove like none of it happened.
He sears the steak just long enough to warm it through, barely past raw, and scrambles the eggs beside it. He slides everything onto a plate, turns, and sets it in my lap. “Here, baby. Eat up. We need to rest.”
“What are we doing tomorrow?” I ask.
“We’re going to the Witching Glen.” He says it easy. “I don’t care what my mother says. There’s something in there that can help us.” He glances back at me and winks. “Don’t worry. You’re coming with me.”
“You should eat too,” I tell him.
“I’ll eat when I know your belly’s full.” He leans back against the counter, crosses his arms, and watches me, and there’s no arguing with the look on his face.
I grin and bite into the steak, his eyes on me the whole time, soft and brown and mine again. After everything this man’s done to me today, I’ve got exactly one mercy left.
He can’t scent that I’m already ready to go again.