Jamie rolls his eyes. “Fine. But if I have nightmares, I’m waking you up.”
“That’s what I’m here for,” I say, guiding him into the small room. It’s cosy, with a low, rounded bed that seems to mould itself to his shape when he sits on it.
As he settles under the strange silken covers, I kneel beside him, brushing his hair back from his face. His dark eyes meet mine, a seriousness in them that never fails to catch me off-guard.
“You okay?” I ask softly.
“Are you?”
I hesitate, then smile. “I’m supposed to be the one checking on you.”
“Yeah, well,” he says, shrugging. “You’ve got a lot of horse crap on your plate. I can tell.”
My throat tightens, but I force a grin. “Stop being so bloody perceptive. It’s annoying.”
Jamie smirks, but the expression quickly fades. “I miss Mum and Dad.” His voice is small, barely more than a whisper.
His words hit like a punch in the gut. “I know, mate.” My voice is thick. “I miss them too.”
He reaches out, his hand small but firm as it grips mine. “We’ll figure it out,” he says, echoing words I’ve said to him countless times before. “Right?”
“Right.” I squeeze his hand. “We’ll figure it out.”
For a moment, we just sit together, the silence heavy but not unwelcome. Finally, Jamie’s eyes droop, and I lean down to press a kiss to his forehead. “Goodnight, kiddo.”
“’Night,” he mumbles, already half-asleep.
I stand and slip out of the room, closing the door quietly behind me.
In the shared space between where Jamie’s snoring softly and where I plan to ruin Solan, I find my mate deep in conversation with Calythra. Their tones are serious but not heated, and I catch the occasional flicker of Solan’s hair flaring before settling again. When he sees me, his expression softens, though he doesn’t immediately break away from the conversation.
I wait until they finish, exchanging a brief nod with Calythra as he settles onto his mat. Then Solan and I make our way to our sleeping quarters, the tension from earlier still lingering between us like a taut wire.
The moment the door closes behind us, it snaps. The energy between us is palpable, an electric current humming through the air, charged with every unspoken word, each promise we’ve exchanged but haven’t yet fulfilled. My pulse quickens, the space between us shrinking with every ragged breath I take.
Solan’s hair reacts first, the tendrils flaring to life, wild and unrestrained, flickering like fire caught in a storm. It reaches towards me, seeking, just as his golden eyes lock onto minewith an intensity that steals my breath. That heated gaze burns through every barrier I thought I had left, leaving me raw and exposed.
“Jack,” he starts, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that sends a tremor through me. There’s a question in the way he says my name, a hesitance that tugs at something deep in my chest.
But I’m not about to let him second-guess us. “No more waiting,” I murmur, stepping closer, my voice rough with the weight of everything I feel. The words are a promise, a declaration, and I see the way they land—his breath hitching, his stance faltering as if I’ve knocked him off balance.
I move my hands with deliberate slowness, finding the straps of his weapons first. I unclasp them one by one, the metal buckles releasing with quiet clicks that echo in the charged silence between us. Solan’s chest rises and falls, each breath heavy, his eyes tracking my every move as if he’s unsure whether to stop me or surrender entirely.
“Are you certain?” he asks. His voice is barely above a whisper, but it trembles with emotion, his hair tangling around my wrists, seeming desperate to pull me closer. The sensation of it—silken yet alive—sends a jolt through me, heat coiling low in my stomach.
“Absolutely,” I say, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside me. I step even closer, so close that his warmth radiates into me, the faint scent of him—earthy and wild—filling my senses. “You’re mine, Solan,” I tell him, my tone firm, my conviction absolute. “And I’m done waiting to prove it.”
His lips part, a soft exhale escaping him, but whatever he’s about to say is lost when I find the fastener of his leather kilt at his waist. My fingers brush against his skin, the contact igniting something primal between us. His hair flares around us, a fiery halo that bathes the room in golden light, as though the bond between us is alive, pulsing, demanding to be acknowledged.
I feel completely certain—of him, of us, of the bond tethering us together. Every instinct screams that this is right, that he is mine and I am his. There’s no more room for hesitation, no more room for fear.
And I am done holding back as I finally unclasp his kilt and let it fall to the floor.
I part my lips, my brows jumping high, my eyes widening.
“Holy fucking goodness and hail to monster dick.” I can’t look away. I try. Sort of. Okay, I barely try to meet his gaze to check that his huff is one of amusement at the way I’m eye fucking his cock like it’s a trophy.
“I—” I’ve got nothing. No words. All I can do is stare. I’m pretty sure I’m drooling too. Definitely salivating. “Nnngh…” is the garbled mess of a word I finally land on.
