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"Not glass," Din corrected, helping her out of the blouse, his breath catching at the sight of her. "Something far more valuable. Irreplaceable."

He saw something flicker in her eyes—surprise, vulnerability, perhaps even wonder—and he paused, concerned he'd somehow overstepped. "Too much flattery?"

Fenella chuckled. "No, I like it."

Din smiled, understanding what she couldn't quite articulate. He'd observed that tendency in her—the difficulty in expressing certain emotions directly, the deflection with humor or sarcasm. It made these moments of openness all the more precious.

With gentle hands, he guided her to sit on the edge of the bed, then knelt before her.

"What now?" she asked, a hint of uncertainty in her voice.

Fenella had been with an immortal male before, but Max had erased her memories of his bite, and Din didn't know whether she knew what to expect.

Had her friends told her?

Had she spoken with Kyra about the particulars of immortal sex?

How could he bring it up without ruining the moment?

Perhaps it could wait for later, or maybe he didn't have to say anything at all. She must know that he had fangs and what they were for, right?

Instead, he lifted one of her feet. "First, I'm going to help you get comfortable." He removed her shoe, setting it aside carefully, then did the same with the other. His fingers found the arch of her foot, applying gentle pressure, massaging away tension.

"Oh," Fenella breathed, her head falling back. "That feels wonderful."

He smiled. "They say that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach, but they should add that the way to a woman's heart is through the arches of her feet."

She chuckled. "Wisdom for the ages, professor."

This was what he wanted—to care for her in all the ways she'd been denied for so long. She deserved to be cherished.

"Din," she said softly.

He looked up, meeting her gaze. "Yes?"

"Come here." She tugged on his shoulder.

He shifted up, settling beside her on the bed, and she turned to face him. Reaching up to trace the line of his jaw with delicate fingers that left fire in their wake, she planted a soft kiss on his lips. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For being perfect." She leaned forward to kiss him again.

No one had ever called him perfect, and he knew that he was far from that, but for now, he was willing to accept the compliment without arguing. Heat was building in their embrace, an intensity that had Din fighting for control.

Fenella's hands found the buttons of his shirt, working them open with delicate fingers.

"Let me help," he murmured, assisting her until the shirt hung open. Her curious hands explored his chest, his abdomen, each touch sending sparks through his nervous system, but he held still, letting her explore for as long she needed.

"You're in remarkable shape for an academic," Fenella teased.

"Field work can be quite physical." His breath caught as her fingers traced a path down his stomach. "I also enjoy rowing at Strathclyde Park."

"That explains it," Fenella said with an appreciation that made his blood run hotter.

Din let his own hands wander, skimming over her shoulders, down her back, learning the curves of her body through the thin fabric of her camisole. When his fingers brushed the strip of skin between her top and her jeans, he felt her shiver and smiled.

"Cold?"