Chapter 28 #2
“Gonna fall asleep,” I murmur by way of explanation. “Want to stay inside you.”
A sleepy smile touches her lips. She whispers a satisfied “Mhm,” and allows me to pull her with me as I settle on my back. She snuggles close, releasing a long, satisfied sigh, and my senses tell me she’s already fallen asleep.
I arrange her comfortably, nestled against my chest, her head tucked under my chin, my softening cock still sheathed inside her.
A shudder of utter contentment runs through me as I wrap my arms around her.
I run my fingers through the damp silk of her hair, my thumb stroking the back of her head as her breathing deepens, her body relaxing completely into mine.
I hold my mate in my arms, and fall effortlessly into the deepest sleep I’ve ever known.
***
When I wake, it’s to the unfamiliar feeling of serenity.
Sunlight, muted and soft, filters through the skylight, painting the den in hues of gold. For a moment, I’m disoriented. Decade after decade, I’ve woken up to solitude and the crushing burden of guilt. But not today.
Today, there is the reassuring weight of Alanna curled on my chest. Her scent—roses and old paper and the lingering, musky perfume of our lovemaking—is thick in the air, a scent I already know I can’t live without.
Her auburn hair is a wild riot across my shoulder, and her breathing is a soft rhythm against my skin.
My limbs are heavy and languid, and the world, for the first time in memory, feels bright with possibility.
I watch her sleep, my heart constricting with the ferocity of how much I love her. All those days when she slept in my bed and I wanted nothing more than to be in it with her. Now here I am, and it’s everything I wanted and more.
As if she can feel my attention, she stirs, eyelashes fluttering against my chest before her lovely hazel eyes blink open. She looks up at me, a sleep-drunk smile spreading across her face.
“Morning,” I whisper, almost afraid that my voice will break whatever beautiful illusion this is.
But of course, it doesn’t. Because this is real.
“Morning.”
Fuck, she looks cute when she wakes up, squinting against the sun, hair askew.
“Last night was . . .” she pauses, trying to find the right word.
“That bad, huh?” I tease, a massive grin breaking out across my face.
“Oh yes. Absolutely horrendous.” She stifles a smile, putting on an expression of mock disapproval.
“Well, you know what they say.” I can’t stop a slight growl from lacing my next words. “Practice makes perfect.”
I kiss the laugh from her lips. But before it can deepen into something hungrier, she lifts her head, a quizzical look on her face.
I can practically see the gears turning in her brilliant mind.
There’s that little furrow between her brows that I deeply want to kiss for no other reason than because I can—but with herculean effort I resist, waiting to hear what she’ll say.
“So we’re ‘mates’?”
“Yes.”
“But I’m human.”
“Very observant. Always knew you were smart.”
She snorts. “But can that even happen? With a human?”
I level her with an unimpressed look.
“But how?” she asks, that relentless curiosity overtaking every facet of her face until she’s practically glowing with the need to rush to the nearest book.
“Dunno. It’s rare.”
“Can it happen between any species or only with shifters and humans?”
“I’m no expert. How about when you, inevitably, descend on my books to research this, you tell me?”
She rolls her eyes and I snuggle her closer, with no intention of letting her leave this bed to go look at books right at this exact moment. Soon, though, she’s looking up from my chest and biting her lip distractedly, a habit I’ve learned means she’s contemplating something tricky.
“There’s something else,” she says. “From that vision. It was from 1917. I never really got the chance to ask you about it, after.” Her gaze meets mine, wide and full of a question she seems hesitant to voice. “Are you . . . really that old?”
A flicker of my old fear tightens my chest—the fear that she’ll see me as a monster.
“Yes. I’m one hundred and thirty-three. Does that bother you?” I ask gently. I can only imagine how disconcerting that must be.
I brace myself for the inevitable revulsion, but there’s no fear or disgust in her scent, only genuine interest. I relax.
“No . . . but it’s a lot to take in.” She traces a finger along my face. “What’s the lifespan of a shifter?”
“For Lycans, around 500 years. Dragon shifters though, those bastards can live for millennia.”
Her face falls. “So for a Lycan, a human mate—it’s just a blip?”
My arms tighten around her reflexively. “No.”
“But my lifespan—”
“If we ever—if I bite you—” A possessive heat coils in my gut at the mental image of my mark on her skin. “—the bond would extend your lifespan to match.”
Alanna stares at me in stunned silence. Warranted, given I did just offer her the secret to not-quite-eternal life. I see her mind working, processing the gravity of what a future with me could mean. After a long moment, she lets out a shaky breath.
I bring my hand to her face, caressing the softness of her cheek, tracing the curve of her bottom lip. “I can’t think of a better way to spend 500 years than with you, aine.”
“Aine,” she echoes, her eyes shining with emotion. “You called me that before. What does it mean?”
My own smile feels wider than any I’ve ever given, and I wonder briefly if my face is going to hurt from all these unaccustomed expressions.
Then I finally press that kiss to her forehead, where her adorable furrow has returned.
“It’s a Lycan term. For mates only. It means ‘my own,’ or ‘heart of my den,’ or just ‘my heart’. ”
“Oh,” she breathes. She smells pleased, sending a ripple of satisfaction through me.
I clear my throat. “It’s a bit sappy.”
A knowing gleam enters her expression. “I think you’re a bit sappy. Underneath that whole tough guy act.”
“Nope,” I scoff, trying to access my habitual gruffness.
“Whatever you say, aine.”
And fuck. To hear that word from her lips is a direct hit to my chest—in the best possible way. It shoots through me, warming every part of my body with affection and joy.
Christ, I am sappy.
Before I have time to dwell on this startling truth, Alanna rises up slightly, her hands framing my face, and kisses me. It’s a slow, deep kiss, unhurried and full of the promises we made to each other in the dark.
We keep kissing until, eventually, I wrap my arms around her waist and roll us, flipping her onto her back. I hover over her, grinning, ready to see how many more moans I can pull out of her, but her gaze drifts past my shoulder, toward the skylight.
“Shit,” she sighs. “What time is it? I promised Dad I’d come to the hospital.” She pushes lightly at my chest, so I roll off her, allowing her to sit up.
I glance at the skylight, and she’s right. The sun is climbing higher into the sky, it’s definitely mid-morning.
When I look back, she’s got one of my furs wrapped around her at the edge of the bed and she’s reading her phone.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
“Yeah, Em texted. She said they’re keeping him for 24-hour observation because of the head wound, but he’s okay.”
I nod, running my hand down her back, noticing a bit of tension setting in there. “Good.”
“I wish I could stay. But I need to go see him. My magic is stable now.” She holds her arm up as proof. “Maybe it’s finally time to . . . hear him out. Give him a chance, anyway.”
The old, possessive instinct rears its head, the wolf in me wanting to keep her here, safe in my den, and protect her from the father who hurt her.
But I shove it down. That man was ready to die for her yesterday.
Besides, I’m not a hypocrite. She found it in herself to forgive me for my fuckups, after all.
“Of course. We’ll go whenever you’re ready.”
“We?” she asks with an amused twist of her mouth.
The question catches me off guard. “I mean, if you want me to come. I don’t have to. I have . . . other stuff . . . I can do. Warden stuff. Shifter stuff. You know.” A flush creeps up my neck. I sound like a goddamn idiot.
“Oh, is that so?” Her eyes are sparkling. Then, more seriously, “I’m not used to this version of you.”
A rough, self-deprecating laugh escapes me. “What, the one who can’t string together a sentence?”
Her smile softens. She reaches out to trace the line of my jaw, and I can’t help but lean into her touch. “No. The one who’s honest about his feelings. I like him.”
Her words, and the look of unguarded affection on her face, make me want to pull her back under me and show her just how honest I can be. But the resolute look on her face keeps me at bay. She has a mission, and my Librarian is nothing if not focused when she has a goal.
“But, talking with my dad, I think it’s something I need to do on my own. Anyway, it’s not like I need your protection anymore, right?”
Of course. Makes sense. The danger is gone. She has control over her magic. Even the Wardens wouldn’t have a problem now.
A cold ripple runs through me. What if she wants the life she had before? The regular human one. The one without me in it.
“Alanna,” I say, and something in my tone wipes the smile off her face.
“If you wanted to . . . go back home. To your apartment and your—your old life. . . I mean, what I’m trying to say is—I don’t want you to stay with me because you feel like you owe me, or because you were scared.
You’re safe now. If you wanted to . . . forget about all of this,” I force the words out, each one a blade twisting in my gut. “I’d understand.”
I hold my features steady, my well-worn mask. Can’t let her see how much it would break me, if she left. Can’t sway her decision.
“Kade.” Her voice is thick with emotion, but firm and a little bit exasperated.
“I’m just going to the hospital. I’m not leaving to go back to my old life.
Last night, I said I loved you and I meant it.
I want to be with you. And after all this mate stuff you told me about, it sounds like that’s what you want too. ”
“I do.” More than I want to breathe. “But I’d let you go, if that’s what you wanted.”
Narrowing her eyes, she puts her hands on either side of my face and pulls me to her for a hard kiss that brooks no argument. Then, against my lips, she says, “No more of that. I can’t wait to come back to you, okay?”
My relief is a thing of violence. I haul her whole body into my lap, burying my face in her hair, my arms wrapped around her so tightly she can barely breathe. She chose me. Willingly. Freely.
“Good,” I manage to say. “Because I probably would’ve ended up stalking you anyway.”
She laughs, the sound muffled against my chest, and it’s a balm to my soul. I hold her for a long moment, finally secure, finally whole, before letting her go to face her past, knowing without a doubt that she is my future.