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Everything goes silent but Juniper’s haggard breathing. The constellations stubble her features in colorful specks. They shift erratically as her gaze jumps from the wasteland that’s evidently become my back to my face as I turn fully in her direction.

I haven’t peeked over my shoulder, but I don’t need to. Her expression says it all.

Juniper’s voice cracks like a twig. “What did they do to you?”

“It’s just a few trivial scratches,” I dismiss. “The mortals couldn’t keep their hands off me. As usual, my animal magnetism was too much for them.”

No surprise, the mirth falls flat. From about a mile away, the call of a bear cleaves through the forest.

I lick my lips and start again. “Juniper.”

“Don’t.” Her ragged features work hard to prop themselves up, each piece clicking back into place despite her ashen complexion. She switches to efficiency mode and grabs my hand. “Come.”

She drags me past a cluster of hollows, ushers me through a fence of pine saplings, and urges me into the ground pool where she’d once bathed during the start of her game. I remember ordering the forest nymphs to ready Juniper for me—for the hunt. What she doesn’t know is how tempted I was to kick the nymphs out of the enclosure so I could spy on Juniper, observe her at my leisure while she ran soap down her naked body.

I hadn’t given in to the temptation. But that hadn’t stopped me from pacing, edgy with the strange desire to see her covered in nothing but suds. I hadn’t known why yet, but she had strung me tightly from the start.

Without another word, Juniper presses me toward the depression until I dunk myself in. My naughty side wants to invite her to soak with me, so I can run my tongue up between her wet breasts, but the warm water is too overwhelming. I groan and wash myself while Juniper keeps checking the area, her eyes averted from me like a virgin instead of a woman who’s had my cock inside her more times than either of us can tally.

This is the part where I’d put on a show and mosey out of the pool slowly, allowing rivulets to slide down my skin, all for her viewing pleasure. Sadly, she’s having none of it. Juniper waits as I climb out, liquid splashing the grass as I step into my pants. They’re covered in grime, but I can’t have everything, and clothes can be remedied later.

She guides me from the hollow to our original location. A series of brisk, one-word instructions follow. Juniper tugs me to the grove’s center—“Here”—and ushers me to the ground—“Sit”—then lowers herself behind me—“Turn”—and twists my shoulders away from her.

I listen to her cloak rustle as she fumbles either through her pockets or a pouch stashed under the mantle. Based on the slide of a drawstring, I’d say it’s the latter.

Seconds later, a minty aroma fills the air. Cold cream slathers over the craters in my shoulder and down my spine. I cringe at the initial sting, then slump in relief as the chilled substance melts into my flesh. The lingering burns start to ebb.

My eyes shutter while Juniper’s digits feather over the wounds, dabbing each one with the salve.

“Fuck,” I exhale. “That feels good.”

Juniper’s tone sounds concentrated—or rather, distant. “It’s the same ointment I gave Cerulean. It’ll clean and relieve the wounds.”

Although I can already guess why, I tease, “Any reason you brought two vials with you?”

“Of course.”

“You going to tell me?”

“In case I lost the first one.”

Planning for all inconveniences. That draws a light chuckle from my chest while the cream revives my mood. “Remember this place?”

“Yes,” she replies, as if it’s a trivia question. “This is where we reunited. I walked in on your bacchanal.”

“Call it what it was: an orgy. Plus, you say that like it’s a bad thing. Every memorable couple meets during a public sex binge.”

“What books have you been reading?”

“What do you take me for? Naturally, the smutty ones.”

She snorts, her palms coated in salve and gliding over my shoulders. “And that ostentatious throne of yours, woven out of stinging nettles.”

“Ah,” I reminisce with exaggerated wistfulness. “I forgot about the throne. I miss my throne.”

“Do you miss the orgies?”

Now my grin broadens, hearing the censure in her voice. “Not lately. A certain mortal has provided me with an infinitely more satisfying alternative.”