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Aurora held Rhaego’s hand the whole trip back to the den. She didn’t care about the looks passersby sent her. Or the befuddled peeks Phirdo kept sneaking as he flew their carriage. Rhaego needed comfort. There was no greater evidence of this, perhaps, than how unaffected he seemed to be by their clasped hands.

His gaze far away and his body radiating tension, she’d wondered if he was only humoring her by holding her hand. Prolonged physical touch was clearly uncommon in Tuva. What if keeping hold of him like this was as off-putting as someone walking around gripping a handful of your hair and pretending like it wasn’t strange?

But when she moved to pull away, he held her fast. She leaned toward him. “I need to speak with Phirdo.”

Rhaego’s expression confirmed his confusion, but at length, he released her hand. She’d learned a lot from Diana and Maggie, but there was still one piece of information left that she thought could be helpful.

Ensuring she stuck to the center of the carriage, she shuffled toward Phirdo at the helm. He did a double take when he noticed her approaching. “My lady?” he asked, more bewildered than annoyed.

“Hello.” She kept her teeth hidden when she smiled, trying to be on her best Tuvastan behavior. “I forgot to tell you before how much I love your carriage,” she said, making a show of admiring the pristine upholstery and decorative trim of the canopied roof. “It is yours, isn’t it?”

“Uh, yes.” Phirdo’s gaze bounced back and forth between her and the fjord ahead as though they might hit something floating in midair if he weren’t careful. But Aurora saw the way his shoulders shot back and his chest expanded at the compliment.

“How does that work again?” she asked. “Does the carriage come with our denstead and you act as caretaker? Or is it your carriage and you use it to travel to different densteads depending on who you are assigned to?”

One thing Aurora knew about Phirdo was that he was extremely proud of his job. She hoped the opportunity to talk about his work clouded any suspicion as to why she was probing him about carriages.

When a spark of interest lit behind his eyes and he turned toward her, she internally rejoiced.

“A mix of the two, my lady,” he answered eagerly. “I own my carriage, as do all stewards, but my assigned denstead never alters.”

“Oh, so each denstead has a steward who looks after it every season, and every steward has their own carriage?” she confirmed, keeping her voice curious. Though she wanted to peek at Rhaego to see if he understood the significance of what she was trying to ask, she kept herself from doing it. Phirdo had to think she was wholly interested in this conversation.

“Yes. Exactly right.” He nodded.

She leaned a little closer, the way she’d seen the two gossiping women at the luncheon do. “But your carriage must be the best, right? I saw a few of the others at the docks, and well…” She let the silent criticism speak for itself.

Phirdo’s eyes widened on her for a moment before his lips spread in a grin. A genuine one. “I wouldn’t like to compare,” he said in a way that told her he’d already done so and often.

“Of course not,” Aurora agreed. “But I think I saw my fellow humans’ carriages earlier—one was burgundy and pink, and the other had a silver boat, right?” She furrowed her brows as if trying to recall.

Phirdo shook his head, lips pursed. “Hmm, no, I believe the dark-haired human is assigned to Nuliatis . His carriage is navy with pink trim—perhaps that’s who you saw.” She made a small hum of interest. He grinned again. “But the other carriage is Belson ’s, and…let’s just say he hasn’t mastered salt washing yet.”

Aurora hid a grin with her hand as if loving the gossip, though she had no idea what he was talking about. “Is it bad?”

“The bronze of his boat has nearly weathered away. And his canopy is mauve .” Phirdo’s brows lifted. “He likes to pretend that is the color he wants it to be, but…” He reared his head back, shaking it with open joy at Belson’s lack of upkeep. “It used to be fuchsia!”

“If that’s the case, I can’t image the state of Maggie’s denstead.” She bit her lip, hoping to look eager. In reality she’d never been one for mean gossip. She was even a little uncomfortable with it now, but she hoped that didn’t show on her face. “Is it on the way? Could we fly by and see?”

His mouth scrunched to the side as though disappointed. “No, it’s down a tributary off to the left. Not on our way, unfortunately. But I’ve heard the den matches the carriage.”

“Ah.” Her shoulders slumped disappointedly. Then, pretending that another thought occurred to her, she tipped her head to the side. “What about Diana’s? The dark-haired human. Is she on the way? Does Nuliatis do as excellent a job as you on den upkeep?”

“Nuliatis is a fair steward,” Phirdo conceded, his eyes lit. “But Pomeo’s denstead is on the way. Just wait until you see his goleanta vines—completely unruly.”

“Ooh,” Aurora said, inching away to show she was going to return to her seat. “Be sure to point it out when we pass.”

Phirdo nodded importantly, giving her a once-over before she left, like he was seeing her in a new and improved light.

She turned to Rhaego, heart hammering, and found him gazing at her with a beaming smile. He said nothing as she joined him on their bench, but his hand came to rest atop hers and he squeezed. Her pulse rocketed to an even faster rhythm.

Phirdo did indeed point out a glorious three-story den hidden in a far off cliffside. She had no idea which part of the beautiful building was supposed to look unruly, but sent him an appalled are you kidding look anyway, which seemed to make him happy. Once they returned to their den, he practically bounced through their house, unloading and unpacking their purchases.

After he was gone, his carriage out of sight, Aurora’s words exploded out of her. “Did you hear all that? Maggie and Diana gave me other descriptions of their dens, but as we were talking we realized that you might be able to track them based on their stewards and carriages. Was I right?”

“Brilliantly so,” Rhaego said, his voice full of pride. “And to lure the information out of him through gossip? You may be more suited to this work than you realize.”

She wanted to preen, but there was a heaviness to his voice that stopped her. This afternoon was weighing on him though he pretended otherwise.

“Tell me what else you learned,” he pressed, leading her to their sitting room and settling into his large sage-green chair.

Aurora recounted every detail of the luncheon, carefully leaving out any and all mentions of the gossip she’d overheard concerning Rhaego. Though nosiness plagued her, now was not the time to pry. Not when he looked so weary it made her chest ache. Like a man a breath away from admitting defeat. How could she help him?

“And both females were eager to leave Tuva? It is what they want?” he asked, as though hoping the answer was no. She supposed it would make things easier if Maggie wanted to stay.

“Yeah. It took a while for Diana’s shock to wear off after I told her about Marsol, but when I explained that she just had to visit him every once in a while and that Maggie and I would both be there to support her, she calmed down. I’d say you’re stuck with all three of us.”

His claws retracted and his jaw flexed. “It was smart to use the water to keep from being overheard,” he commented.

She smiled, pride in herself rising with each compliment. Aurora had done well today. She’d proved herself a valuable teammate.

Her smile faded when he let out a long, extended sigh and focused on her, gaze reluctant. “You’ve been kind enough not to mention it, but I’m sure you were exposed to some rumors about me today,” he began, shoulders nearly sagging. “You’re owed an explanation.”

Aurora’s lips parted, the urge to deny it and protect his already injured feelings bubbling up instinctually, but from his expression she knew there was no use in it. He was sure.

“I want to explain, but you were so brilliant today that I should really initiate communication with my team first so I can share all you learned. I’m hoping Verakko can find a database that lists which carriages belong to which densteads. The process we go through to schedule calls and share information is a bit tedious.”

“Totally,” Aurora blurted, immediately regretting the word choice. She cleared her throat. “I’ll just…” She searched for some way to make herself useful. “I’ll just go down to the kitchen. Explore the new groceries. Maybe I can make us dinner. Don’t worry”—she chuckled awkwardly—“I’ll stay away from that death pepper.”

Rhaego’s mouth lifted in a small smile, though she felt it was forced. “Very well.”

She nodded to herself as she walked away, swinging her arms to give them something to do.

“Aurora,” he said, stopping her in her tracks. “Thank you, by the way. You didn’t have to…comfort me the way you did. But it helped.”

Her throat swelled into a hard knot. “Any time.”

He peered at her for a long moment before rising and disappearing down the hallway that led to his room. When she knew she was alone, she released a wistful sigh. If she could get away with comforting him in all the ways she wanted—with caresses and kisses and embraces and food and compliments—she’d be one very happy witch.

She wanted to climb her sad demon husband like a tree and make all his grief disappear. Would burying his face between her breasts bring a smile to his lips, however temporary? Or was she being awful and insensitive to even consider it?

Aurora bit her lip.

She silently chastised herself. Let’s try food and asking if he’s interested before motorboating, why don’t we?

Her womb gave a painful clench, and she laid a hand over her belly. Maybe something made primarily of chocolate.

***

Sending a communication request to Verakko didn’t take long. But afterward Rhaego sat in his room, stalling and gathering his thoughts. The day had been a jumble of wins and losses.

His mother had been mostly lucid but not amenable. Aurora had overheard things he’d have no choice but to explain, and he fretted over those conversations. So far, she’d shown him nothing but warmth and compassion. Was that just who she was, or was there some deeper affection driving her actions? Had she merely held his hand out of pity?

He appreciated it either way, but he worried that he was too fond of the physical affection. His mother wasn’t wholly wrong—Rhaego did have a problem with growing too attached. He didn’t want to bloat Aurora’s kindness into something it wasn’t, even as his palm ached to take her soft hand within his again.

Groaning, he rose. Reveal everything. Better to get it over with.

When he found Aurora, he couldn’t keep the sight of her from breaking through his apprehension and warming his insides. It was as if the kitchen had exploded, strewing herbs, powder, and dishes across every surface.

Her hair was piled atop her head in a messy mop, and patches of white powder spotted her dress and face. She hadn’t noticed his approach, face twisted in concentration as she lifted dark purple goop out of a shallow bowl using a long spoon. The unidentifiable substance stretched as she lifted the spoon higher and higher until her arm was extended to its full capacity.

Rhaego crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, content to watch her. She shook the spoon, trying unsuccessfully to dislodge her creation. Less gently, she whipped the spoon downward, then repeated the movement again and again, teeth grated. Her pale brows rose, and her fist came to rest on her cocked hip when the purple sludge only wobbled defiantly.

“A fine adhesive you’ve made,” Rhaego announced.

A shriek preceded the clatter of her spoon hitting the counter as she leapt back. “Holy…” She clutched her chest. Rhaego chuckled, approaching the counter with a raised brow.

Her grin spread, lighting up the room. She glanced down at the monstrous creation. “Such a pretty color too, huh?”

Crossing his forearms on the counter, he stooped to examine the sludge at eye level. “What was it meant to be?”

A flicker of pain crossed her face before she replaced the easy grin. “A chocolate cake,” she explained. Absently, she rubbed a palm over her low abdomen. “I think I know the problem, though.” With all the excitement in the world, she lifted a container of cloriticen -root powder. “This isn’t flour.”

Rhaego straightened, relishing every curious facet of her personality. “And is that a good thing?”

“Not good for my cake.” She shrugged, peering down at the sludge. Some of her hair flopped free of the stick she’d used to twist it up. It wouldn’t be long till the rest broke away from their confines. “But it’s all part of the learning process. I know it’s a little silly to focus on cooking so much, but it relaxes me and I have to learn sometime, right? It’s not like we’re not going to have to cook wherever we go next.”

Her exuberance was catching.

“True,” he agreed. “Though I’d be happy to cook for you.”

Aurora’s gaze slipped to him, eyes gone soft and searching. “Will you stay with us, wherever we go next? Or will you take your mother somewhere else?”

Rhaego’s chest tightened. “You assume I can convince her to leave.”

Her delicate fingers curled, and she let out a short huff. “I don’t see how it’s even a choice. I mean, I know she isn’t well, but how could she chance never seeing her son again?”

Lips twitching at her indignation, Rhaego sighed. “As I understand it, parental relationships on Clecania are much different than Earth ones, especially where mothers are concerned. My relationship with Ishara, our closeness, is already considered strange. She believes this as well.”

“Strange how?” Aurora asked, brows crinkled.

“Tuvastan mothers only live with their children long enough to see them weened, then they’re put into the care of their fathers. It’s why females are so particular about who they choose to share their heat with. They’re protective in that way.” His gaze drifted toward the counter, and he began to sweep the excess root powder into a neat pile as he explained. “As you know, my father died when I was quite young. Normally when something like that happens, the child is sent to live with their closest male kin, but my mother did something strange. She petitioned the king to allow me to live with her in the Eyrie, and since King Yaskan has a strange affinity for her, he allowed it.”

“You grew up there? In that house we visited?”

“Not in that house,” he corrected, “but in the Eyrie. She didn’t take ownership of that house until she announced her withdrawal.” Aurora’s brow lifted, and he clarified, “Announced that she was done participating in marriages.”

Aurora planted her elbow on the counter, then rested her chin in her palm, attention rapt. “From what you’ve told me it sounds like she earned her retirement. Married once a year? That’s gotta be hard especially if she had you. You must’ve bounced from den to den.”

“I didn’t accompany her during her marriages.” Rhaego dug through the cupboard beneath him and pulled out the gilded package of candied yuba berries he’d purchased for her while in the market. Many females craved them during their cleansing, and he could scent that Aurora’s had just begun. “I lived in the Eyrie while she was away.” He slid the package over to her, but she didn’t take it. Her lips parted.

“But…who looked after you if she was gone? That’s…” Calculation began behind her eyes. “Six weeks a year you were left alone?”

“She’d always visit before her luncheons. The females living in the rest housing took turns checking in on me otherwise. Often, though, I was alone.”

He smirked at the outrage bulging in her jaw as she ground her teeth.

“It was kind of them,” he assured. “Females live in the Eyrie, in part, to seclude themselves. To escape so they can forget what they’re giving up. They ensured I was well, of course. Fed and healthy, but you have to understand how difficult it was for them to be around me. Some had returned from their marriages disheartened after failing to conceive. Some had just left their own infants to be raised by their fathers.

“The Eyrie is meant to be a refuge. A place where they can grieve and recover and harden themselves so they can start all over again in a new marriage. But then I was there. A constant reminder. My existence in their lives was cruel. They resented my mother for her weakness and selfishness in bringing me to the Eyrie, and as I aged, that resentment started to include me.”

“Why?” Rhaego’s head snapped up at the sob in her voice. “I know why I would do it.” Aurora sniffed. “But if things work the way you say, why would she? Is that why the people in town treat you the way they do?”

Rhaego felt stiff. “I’ve upset you. I don’t mean to burden you with this.” He was growing more accustomed to seeing females cry since the humans he’d helped were more quick to tears than a Clecanian female, but he still wasn’t used to it. Pain radiated through his chest at her every sniffle. “Let’s speak about something else. I could show you how I make a yuba cake.” He lifted the package she hadn’t touched and set it closer to her again. “We could decorate the top with these.”

“No,” she rushed out, swiping her palms across her face and trying to compose herself. The clinging root powder on her sleeves ensured there were pale streaks across her face when she was done. “No. I want to hear.” When she caught the uncertainty in his eyes, she snagged a candied yuba berry and quickly presented it before popping it into her mouth as if to say See, everything is normal.

He knew she hadn’t really wanted to eat the treat, but he saw the moment her taste buds registered it. Her lashes fluttered and her jaw began to move slowly, as though she were savoring it.

“You remember I told you that my mother was a diligent citizen?”

Aurora nodded through a mouthful.

“While true, I feel it’s an extreme understatement. She’s quite old, you see. Old enough to recall a time when mates still existed. She saw the suffering caused by the plague and felt as though the Goddess had spared her. As a girl, she witnessed the breakdown of our society, the panic, and the eventual understanding that if we didn’t intervene, our world would die. Not everyone took to the marriage ceremonies at first. But she did. She believed—still believes, to her core—that she had a sacred duty. So when she came of age, she happily submitted herself for the chase.”

Aurora’s gaze drifted around the kitchen, a line forming between her brows. “But wasn’t the plague hundreds of years ago?”

“Yes,” he said simply.

Rhaego watched as the implication of his words washed over Aurora. Her hand lifted to her mouth.

“She tried to conceive. Over and over and over. For far longer than anyone thought was right. She became obsessed, believing if she just selected her husband better, tested more thoroughly, that all her years of sacrifice wouldn’t be for nothing. And then, finally, she had me. I wasn’t her first pregnancy, but I was her first child.”

Rhaego had to stop for a moment, thinking about his mother’s suffering. “Something happens to those who take the elixir for too long,” he continued. “The drug slows our ageing exponentially. It reinvigorates our bodies on a cellular level. But we were never made to live forever. In Tuva, we call it the flare. We lose control of our fever. Our emotions become untenable. Ishara suffers from this. Though she’s never confirmed it, I believe her symptoms began around the time I was born. My guess is when my father died, she couldn’t stop herself from trying to keep me. After so much heartache, I think she just wanted something for herself. She didn’t mean to hurt anyone.”

“I—” Aurora’s voice broke even though she was stiff as a board, clearly trying to hold back tears. “I have so many questions, but…can I give you another hug?”

Rhaego’s skin lit with electricity, and he smiled. “How about you come upstairs with me instead, to the deralja lounge, and I’ll tell you anything else you want to know.”

Her gaze turned puzzled, but she didn’t question him. “Okay. If that’s what you want.” She nodded. “Let me just clean up a little first.”

Rhaego had come to understand Aurora well enough to know that asking her to stop cleaning since it was his job and not hers was useless. So instead, he rounded the counter, took the dishes she’d started stacking from her hands, and guided her out of the kitchen with a firm palm on her back.

He’d scented the telltale shift in her pheromones days ago telling him she was starting her cleansing. If it was anything like a Tuvastan female’s time, she’d be experiencing some level of pain, and if he was going to cause her emotional distress with his depressing history, he would at least ease her symptoms while he did it.

“Wait,” she argued as he ushered her to the stairs, snagging the package of candied yuba. “It’s a wreck. I can’t leave it like that.”

“The kitchen will not scorn you taking a few moments to rest, especially during this time. I’m surprised you’re laboring at all. Do humans not feel pain during their cleansing?”

Aurora’s entire body stiffened, her demeanor morphing into one of discomfort. “Does everyone just…know that it’s my time of the month, then?”

Rhaego tried to understand what made her so uneasy about that before answering truthfully. “Yes.”

Her mouth shut, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. Her odd reaction made her easy to maneuver, however. He led her into the deralja lounge and pointed at one cushioned chaise set into the floor. “Will you sit there?”

She did as he requested, avoiding eye contact when he plopped the package of sweets between her crossed legs.

“Do humans not know when others are bleeding?” Rhaego asked as he packed a deralja pot with black coropea -flower leaves.

“It’s not like we shout it from the rooftops,” she muttered. “It isn’t generally brought up where I’m from. My friends and I might talk about it, but it’s personal. I admit it’s stupid to feel embarrassed…” Her voice was louder. Annoyed. But her ire seemed directed at herself rather than at him. “But it is what it is. I do. I think it’s strange that you can”—her nose scrunched, and she darted a glance toward him—“ sense that it’s happening.”

“If I didn’t sense it, I wouldn’t be in tune with my wife’s needs. It’s something we enjoy.”

Her gaze was skeptical as he approached and stepped behind her. But he wasn’t lying—the arrival of her cleansing meant one very important thing to a Tuvastan male.

My little doe will be fertile soon.

His instinct demanded he please her in any way he could. If he did a good enough job caring for her now, she might accept him in her bed when the heat struck. The approaching heat stoked the urge to breed, to empty himself into her ripe core and mark her with his scent. Though he knew it was an instinct he wouldn’t follow through on—at least not this time—it didn’t stop him from feeling the impulse as all Tuvastan males did.

“What are—” She twisted in place as he lowered behind her on the chaise, staring at him over her shoulder.

“I want to help,” he explained.

He handed the deralja pipe to her, but she shook her head. “You don’t have to worry about me. I’ve had periods for almost two decades.”

Stubborn human. “You will let me tend to you, female.” He repeated the words he’d used before. The ones he’d uttered in a tone far too demanding for a husband, yet the ones she’d previously capitulated to.

There was an argument brewing in her eyes. She glanced at the deralja pipe he held at her shoulder, then peered at him, pretty mouth pursed obstinately. “Fine,” she griped, accepting the pipe from his hand. “But after this you’ll let me clean up my mess in the kitchen. Don’t think I don’t know your game.” She pointed an accusatory finger at him. “Get me all drowsy, then go clean up for me. You’ve had a worse day than I have, and you deserve a break too.”

He didn’t say it aloud, but her cleansing allowed him a perfect excuse to touch her, to hold her. After the day he’d had, that was all he really wanted.

“That isn’t deralja. It’s a remedy for pain.” She squeaked when he wrapped an arm around her waist and dragged her back toward him, not enough for her spine to settle against his torso as was customary—his cock wouldn’t stand for that—but close enough that he could breathe in her scent and feel the tickle of her hair on his jaw.

“All-natural Midol, huh?” She inhaled a long puff and hummed her enjoyment. “Tastes like raspberries.” She craned her neck, trying to peer back at him. “What are you doing back there anyway?”

“May I smell you?” he asked, trying to keep the rasp from his voice at her nearness. It’d be so easy to haul her against his chest.

“I… Yeah. I guess.” Her words came out quiet and a little breathless. He wanted to interpret the catch in her voice in one very specific way, but he kept himself from doing so.

She flinched when, from behind, he slipped his palms over her hips, dipping low under her soft belly until they spanned the right area. “What are you doing?” She scooted back a fraction in surprise but stilled when he dipped his nose into the crook of her neck and inhaled.

His purr came easily. He knew it would. Goddess, it took nearly all his effort to keep it buried when he was around her. In truth, he hadn’t needed to scent her to call it forth, but it was an easy excuse, a selfish boon he allowed himself to take.

The rumble built, strong and resonant, the vibration running down his muscles and reverberating through his hands laid firmly over her womb. After a moment of stiffness, the touch and the heat from his palms must have registered. Aurora moaned, her rigid figure melting and falling back against his chest.

Rhaego closed his eyes, focused on keeping control of his burning fever. His scent glands activated, pulsing with musk he ached to massage into her skin, her hair, her cunt. “Wow,” she breathed. “That’s a really exceptional trick, I’ve gotta say.”

His fever crackled with satisfaction, but as agonizing minutes passed, it screamed, white hot with urgency. Pull her in, it whispered. She should feel the vibration on her back. You can’t fully satisfy her pain this way. But he couldn’t. His cock was stiff as stone, throbbing with need. Already he had to tilt his hips awkwardly so no part of his shaft brushed against her back, but if she didn’t stop melting against him, they’d have a problem.

“That smell.” The melody of a hidden moan in her voice ratcheted his fever into a near frenzy. His fingers twitched, wanting to squeeze. To stroke. To take comfort from his bride and forget the rest of the world. “Is that your cologne?”

Rhaego chanced opening his eyes and regretted it. She rested her head on his shoulder and tipped it back, peering up at him below heavy lids.

“My musk,” he grated, voice rattling. “When we approach heat, our horns’ scent glands activate.”

“So, you naturally smell like that? That’s interesting.” Her brows knit as she thought about something. Slowly, she sat up. It took all Rhaego’s considerable willpower to keep from dragging her back down.

“Why do you produce musk?” she asked, twisting to peer at him over her shoulder, eyes twinkling with something he couldn’t place.

He thought back to his trip into the woods that morning and swallowed down his embarrassment. “We use it to mark. So others know what we’ve claimed as ours before the heat arrives.”

Aurora moved out of reach. He had to ball his fists to keep from locking her in place, but he couldn’t stop his purr from morphing into a growl. His mind blurred when she flipped onto her knees between his bent legs and faced him, sitting back on her heels, torturously close. He draped his arms on his thighs and let his hands fall between his legs to hide his erection, hoping the position looked casual.

“Rhaego.” His name on her lips shot through his body like a warm caress. His cock jumped beneath the painful confines of his stays. Luckily her attention was so concentrated on his face that she didn’t notice the bar of rigid flesh straining toward her. “Did you mark me?”

He froze. Someone had told her. At least hinted at it. He thought they might have, but he assumed if they had, he would’ve suffered her wrath or disappointment for the act by now. “Yes,” he rasped. There was no point in lying.

Her chest rose with a quick breath. “Why?” There was no harshness he could place in the question.

What excuse could he give? He could lie and tell her it was common practice and that it would appear strange if he hadn’t. But that was only a temporary bandage, and she would discover the lie eventually. “Because…” Throat thick, he hardened his heart, preparing for the pain that would come with her disappointment. “I wanted to.”

“Because I’m a woman and your heat is approaching and you couldn’t help it? Or…” Her head tipped to the side, her eyes drifting across his face. “Or because I’m me ?”

“I couldn’t help it.” Rhaego inhaled a long, bracing breath and admitted, “ Because you are you.”

***

Aurora wanted to squeal or pounce—she couldn’t decide which. He liked her. Romantically . That must be what that meant, right?

More than he would just any available woman, more than a chore, more than a friend. She laid her hands on her thighs, leaning closer. His gaze darted to the highlighted display of her cleavage, and she grinned. “I have something to admit.”

Like a shot his attention flashed to her face, eyes wide and searching.

“I’ve developed a bit of a crush on you.” Heat rose to her cheeks. She was now certain the feelings weren’t one-sided, but she still wanted to play it cool. He didn’t need to know that if she had a notebook handy she’d be scribbling hearts around their names or that she’d been trying to inject an attraction spell into her chocolate cake earlier. She didn’t want to scare him away.

He blinked, lids narrowing. “My translator is explaining your words to mean a brief infatuation .” Doubt made the corner of his mouth scrunch. “Is that what you intended?” he asked, as though expecting her to argue.

“ Infatuation is a bit of an intense descriptor.” It wasn’t. “But yeah, pretty much.”

After a few moments, his blank stare sparked mortification to life inside her. She rushed to give him an out. “It’s okay if you don’t feel that way. Things are done differently here, so maybe I misunderstood…” Had she?

“You’ve started feeling some…affection for me?” The lines in his forehead told her he still wasn’t quite believing what he’d heard, but the telltale red glow pulsing to life in his gray eyes made her think he wanted the words to be true.

Warmth suffused Aurora’s belly. “A good deal of affection, yes.”

“A brief affection?” The rattling purr that thrummed out of Rhaego made his words hard to understand.

“Brief wouldn’t be my preference. But…” Doubt chilled some of the warmth heating her chest. What did he plan to do after they escaped? Return to his own life probably. Was he going to drop her off with the other rescued humans he’d mentioned and then ride off into the sunset? Was she setting her heart up to be broken by pursuing a relationship with him? “If we escape, will I ever see you again?”

He reached toward her, hesitated, then took her hand gently in his, lifting it between them. “If you wish to see me after all this is through, I will make it so.”

Aurora felt ready to implode with giddy energy. “I would like that.” She grinned, managing to contain herself.

The red in Rhaego’s eyes dimmed, his expression growing tight. “Our trip today didn’t dampen your feelings?”

“You mean the way people treated you?” Aurora’s voice was hushed. “Was that because of your mother?”

He didn’t release his grip on her hand, but she felt the graze of his claws as they wavered, threatening to retract. “In part. Their wariness comes from an amalgamation of things: my upbringing, my mother, and the fact I was born under the Goddesses fever.”

“What does that mean?” She squeezed his hand, offering support.

“Her eyes, the two moons, were red the night I was born. It’s a terrible omen. Tuvastans believe I’m cursed and that I spread misfortune to others.”

Aurora frowned. “That sounds like a bunch of hocus pocus. A blood moon is nothing more than an effect of light passing through the planet’s atmosphere. I’m a witch and I believe the moon holds massive power, but I’m also a scientist.” She brought her free hand over, clasping his palm with both of hers. “Besides, even if the Goddess’s gaze was fevered, couldn’t that mean she was overcome with passion? My opinion might not be worth much in this city, but I think you were blessed with a heart meant for love.”

“That’s a beautiful thought,” he rumbled, guiding her to twist forward and dragging her back against his chest.

His purr rumbled to life as he replaced his heated palms on her belly. “You inspire beautiful thoughts,” she breathed, echoing the compliment he’d given her that she hadn’t been able to put out of her mind.

He squeezed her more tightly, the embrace different than it had been before. More familiar and less stiff—not counting the hard length pressing into her back, which she was actively trying to ignore. Her sex clenched as though apprehensively closing up shop. It could not possibly be as large as it felt.

The vibration coursing through his body seeped into her low back, soothing the little discomfort that remained.

A sweet, delicious scent pulsed through the air, and she grinned, now knowing what it was. Fluttering erupted in her belly as she felt his face brush against her hair, marking her.