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Rhaego had slept little, his mind and body too full of zeal. Though he’d always intended on courting Aurora, he’d assumed that courtship would have to begin after he’d proved himself a fit savior. He’d incorrectly believed that Tuva would infect her and that he would need time and patience once away from the city to prove he was not a blight, that he could be worthy of her.

But she’d needed no convincing. Aurora had disclosed some of the rumors she’d heard at the luncheon. They were terrible. They’d warned her against his needful nature, claimed he’d brought on a past wife’s infertility, and cautioned her against his genetic disposition for the flare.

As she’d explained this all to him while wrapped in his arms, she’d dismissed each and every claim, pointing out the stupidity of the words, no hesitation sounding in her voice. Each admission had sliced into him like the serrated tip of a blade.

And each easy dismissal that had fallen from her lips had erased the pain instantly.

He’d held her longer than he should have after that, reveling in the smell of his musk in her hair in a way he hadn’t been able to before. Previously, his marking hadn’t been consensual, but now it was. There was a whole new layer of satisfaction and dark pleasure that came from knowing his female wanted his scent on her.

Perhaps want was too strong a word. Allowed might’ve been more in line with reality. She was human. It made sense the practice was something that didn’t stir intense emotion since humans had no tradition of marking. But to Rhaego, her acceptance of his mark was a potent declaration, as if she’d taken his length in hand while in a crowd and proclaimed her ownership of him. That he was who she wanted.

He lay in bed long after he’d bid her good night, replaying her words about his birth. Cock throbbing and fever boiling every time he smelled her delicate scent on his skin, he wondered if she was right about his birth. Perhaps the Goddess’s fever had not been anger. Perhaps his heart burned brighter than others.

Doubt riddled him, and though he took himself in hand often throughout the night, spilling onto his abdomen while dreaming of her, he couldn’t quite make himself believe the Goddess had blessed him with passion. While often plagued with sexual urges, Rhaego had only ever felt this out of control when he was around Aurora.

As upsetting as it was, it would make more sense that he was indeed cursed—blighted—and the Goddess’s plan was to finally relieve him of his torment with the gift of his mate after he’d completed her mission. Why else would no signs of recognition for his little doe make themselves known aside from his screaming fever, shaft, and mind?

The sun rose over the Belmore Mountains more slowly than normal, as though the universe was hindering the rotation of the planet to further torment Rhaego. He’d risen early, exercising away some of his frustration, marking the trees surrounding their territory, and preparing their morning brew. When he found the sun still hadn’t risen, he sprinted to the field of wildflowers behind their den, picked a handful of blossoms he thought she might like, though even his keen eyes had trouble identifying the prettiest blooms in the dark, then bathed once more to wash away the sweat from his rushed climb.

Now that he knew Aurora was open to his advances, he was determined to court her properly. No more denying his gifts and offers of service. If he was to be her male, she would have to grow accustomed to being spoiled. He’d already gathered a handful of presents he’d hidden away in his room and set them by the breakfast table. Additionally he’d prepared the massage room.

Orgasms were an excellent remedy for cleansing pains, and after some study of human physiology, he assumed the same was true for humans. She’d feel no discomfort today if he had anything to say on the matter.

But before I can do any of that , he brooded while eyeing the creeping sun, I need her to wake up.

A chime sounded in his pocket, and he vaulted off the grass where he’d been sitting, leaving divots in the dirt. He studied her mattress sensors, horns pulsing with his hammering heartbeat and his musk already perfuming the air.

She’d risen.

He bounded inside, then forced himself to still. She’d need time to get ready for the day. As much as he wanted to go and knock on her door, he needed to have a little patience.

Pacing the hall, he mentally attempted to imagine her movements, but then he peered at his communicator and swore. She’d gotten back into bed.

***

Aurora fussed over her appearance far longer than she normally had, stressing over the hint of a blemish rising on her jaw and trying on a handful of exquisite dresses before settling on a turquoise gown that she hoped would distract from it.

She stared at the cabinet filled with sparkling rings, shoulder drapery, and head pieces. It felt like she’d be making a statement if she chose to wear something after having gone so long emphatically forgoing. But what statement? She couldn’t decide.

If I wear it, that means I’m showing him favor, right? That’d be true for a wife, which I am not. Is it the same for a girlfriend? Would wearing the jewelry be like wearing an engagement ring before the proposal even happens?

But those girls in town made it seem like I was embarrassing him by not wearing it. So, if I don’t wear anything, will that make him think I’m sending mixed signals?

Or am I completely overthinking all of this?

A knock sounded, making her jump. Her heart somersaulted, and she raced to the door. Before opening it, she took a deep breath and tried to wipe the grin off her face.

Rhaego waited in the hallway, looking as handsome as ever in a royal-blue coat and vest. His shirt was unlaced again, a style she’d noted he only sported when inside their den. In town, all the men kept their shirts clasped to their necks, nary a chest hair in sight.

Was he showing off his pecs for her? Or did he allow himself to be a modicum more comfortable when inside the den? She liked it either way.

“Good morning. What’s all this?” Her eyes fell to the tray held in his hands.

“I thought you may want to take your breakfast in bed. There’s no reason to strain yourself if your cleansing has left you fatigued.”

Aurora was a little lethargic, but the only way she’d want to eat breakfast in bed was if he ate in bed with her, and it felt too soon for that particular invitation. “That’s sweet, but I’m okay.”

“If you’re sure.” He grinned.

He led the way to the terrace and set out the familiar morning-brew spread. Alien birds flitted from flower to flower, twittering in the bright sun. A gentle warm breeze rolled through, and she inhaled the delicate floral scent that carried on the wind.

“Aurora,” Rhaego began with a tentative note in his voice.

“Yes?” Her belly flipped at the way he murmured her name.

He remained standing, arms clasped behind his back. “You bathed this morning.”

It wasn’t a question. A spike of embarrassment lanced through her. Oh god. Do I smell? Her logical mind caught up and reminded her that yes, she had in fact bathed. She just managed to keep herself from sniffing her arm to be sure. “Uh, yeah. Why?”

The large apple of his strong throat bobbed. “Would you allow me to replace my mark?” His brows lifted, nervous energy wafting off him.

Aurora didn’t know what to do with the feelings welling inside her. He was so cute she wanted to bite him. Instead she held her emotions in check, stood, and stepped toward him. Biting her lip to dampen her excitement, she breathed, “Of course.”

His fanged grin hit her like a sack of bricks, making her pulse soar. Any nervousness faded as a fevered glow radiated in his eyes. She remained in place as he stalked forward, the smoothness in his steps almost sensual, a far cry from the anxious gentleman demon from a moment ago.

The heat pouring off him hit her first, then came the smell of his musk, as mouthwatering as dessert but with a touch more spice to it than it’d had the day before. His strong purr seemed to rattle the air between them.

She craned her neck, gazing up at his glowing red eyes past the valley of his muscular chest. A throbbing need pulsed through her sex when he slowly looped his right hand around the back of her neck and hooked his claws around her hair. Gaze captivated, he dragged her hair off her neck like he were pulling back the curtain of a masterpiece.

Rhaego stooped, head dipping until his nose brushed against her throat, his rumbling purr making goose bumps erupt across her skin. Gently, he nuzzled her throat, her shoulder, her cheek. His lips brushed against the column of her neck, and she sucked in a breath at the feel of fang. It was far more thrilling than she’d imagined. Her head lolled to the side to give him better access.

But her gasp must have sparked awareness in him because he stopped nuzzling and, at length, stepped away. The fever in his eyes was abating, formality returning. But whereas before he would stifle his purr, he now let it rumble. “Thank you,” he rasped.

She tried to keep the desperation out of her voice when she croaked, “Anytime.”

They discussed mild topics as they ate, the weather and some beginner recipes he’d planned to teach her. He asked her more about her job, and she found herself gushing about her favorite moths, rambling on about the tear-feeding moth, Hemiceratoides hieroglyphica , who punctured the eyelids of sleeping birds to steal their sodium-rich tears, or the many sloth moths who lived their whole lives in the fur of sloths and only left to lay the eggs of their young in sloth dung.

Rhaego had set his broth aside at that, so she described the luna moth next, chirping in his ear as he gathered the remains of their breakfast, swatting her away every time she tried to help.

“Many people consider it the most beautiful moth. That’s why it remains the only moth to ever be on a US stamp, while tons of butterflies have been on others.” She rolled her eyes but forced herself not to sink into her frustration with how often moths were overlooked in favor of their sunlight-loving counterparts merely because they were prettier . “But that’s not why I like them,” she explained, trailing him down to the kitchen. “Once they transition from caterpillar to moth, their mouths become vestigial.”

When Rhaego only blinked at her excited pause, she explained, “They don’t work anymore. Too small. And they don’t develop digestive systems. They live only to reproduce and die after about a week because they can’t eat anything. How interesting is that?”

“They all sound quite interesting.”

Aurora studied his face. She didn’t notice any of the eye-glazing boredom she was used to seeing when she went on and on like this. But she didn’t want to take advantage.

“Anyway…” she sighed out. She peered around the room, not expecting to find anything new but not knowing what to do with herself. They hadn’t talked about the events of the night before and she didn’t think it was exactly necessary, but being locked in a house with him was strange. Like deciding to move in with a coworker you’d recently agreed to go on a date with. “What do you want to do today?”

“Whatever you’d like. I’ve prepped the massage room. Or I could teach you a recipe. I’d love to hear more about your work.”

Aurora sent him a soft smile, huffing out a breath. “Those all sound very much like things that I want to do. What do you want to do? Do you have any hobbies?”

Rhaego’s brow arched, gaze darting across to the far wall as he tried to come up with even one hobby. “I like to work,” he offered.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Really? Or are you one of those people who only ever works, so when someone asks you what you like to do that’s the only thing you can remember so that’s the only answer you have?”

A smile crept across his mouth. He leaned over the counter dividing them on his forearms. “You’re an intuitive little witch, aren’t you?”

A ball of warmth heated her cheeks. “I’d like to think I’m not completely obtuse.”

“I enjoy…” He sighed, peering at the ceiling. “Fighting.”

Aurora winced sarcastically, “If you think you could take me, we could try.”

He chuckled, a deep rumbling sound that made her nipples stiffen. “Exercising.”

“We could hike again,” she tried. “But that’s more of a workout for me than you.”

His grin turned sly, and oh, was sly a sexy look on Rhaego. “Not if I carry you and run.”

“That doesn’t seem very fun for you.”

Rhaego shrugged, focus shifting to the counter. His jaw worked as though he wanted to argue.

“What?” Aurora laughed. “You look like you want to say something.”

His gaze rose and he tapped his claws on the counter. “I believe it would be improper by human standards.”

Aurora grinned, leaning forward and mimicking his pose on the counter. “Well now you have to tell me.”

His smile remained, playing at the corners of his lips. Finally he lifted a claw, pointing to her chest. “I’d derive a great deal of enjoyment if I were running and you were wearing this dress. Especially if I chose a rougher path.”

“Ah,” she gasped in mock offense, straightening and slapping a hand to her cleavage. “You fever-stricken heathen! How dare you notice how revealing these dresses that you picked for me are.”

He laughed then, a full-bellied sound that boomed through the kitchen.

Rounding the counter, he took her hand, brushing the quarter-sized pad of his thumb into her palm. He braved a heated look at her neckline, then his red gaze lifted to her mouth and sighed. “The Goddess was unreasonably generous when she formed you.”

Aurora’s skin warmed, her body swaying closer to his.

He met her eyes. “It would be blasphemous to hide the fruits of her labor.”

Insides melting, bones and all, Aurora was unable to utter a word of objection when he produced something shiny from an inner coat pocket and looped it around her neck. She couldn’t even gather her smoldering thoughts enough to decide if she should be objecting.

Rhaego guided her wobbly, biddable body up the stairs to a mirror. He stepped behind her and dipped his hands to warm her lower belly, purring and soothing cramps she hadn’t even noticed she’d had.

She took in the sight of the necklace he’d placed around her neck. It was simpler than any of the other jewelry she’d seen, but the jeweled pendant had tears rising to her eyes. A butterfly with pale pink wings that faded into a stunning rich lavender was topped with little jewels and pearls. It fell just over the dip between her collar bones and glittered in the sunlight. She ran a reverent finger over one wing.

“It is a night dweller. I was lucky. I purchased it before I knew of your affinity for the nocturnal species. I hope—”

“I love it,” she cried, twisting in his hold and throwing her arms over his neck as far as she could reach. “You’re too damn tall,” she complained.

In an instant she was hauled against his chest and lifted into the air. She squeezed him around the neck, then pulled back and kissed him on the cheek. His revving purr seeped into her skin, making her nipples taut and sending molten heat to her belly.

Eyes alight with fever, he lowered her slowly to the ground and stepped away. His face was flushed, a fuchsia tint rising to his horns. “I’m glad you like it. You’ll wear it?” His brows lifted, and her heart squeezed.

“Absolutely.” She spun back toward the mirror, leaning forward to examine the necklace more closely. “I’ll have to take it off during our fights, of course.”

“Of course,” he agreed easily. “I thought we could search for it one of these evenings.”

“For what?”

“The insect. It’s a local species. My reading says they live in Tuva. Perhaps there’s a brood in our den’s forest?”

Aurora spun. “Really? Do you think we could… Wait, no,” she said, crossing her hands in front of her in a no way motion. “Stop distracting me with things I like. We’re doing something you like today.” She lifted her chin imperiously. “As your wife, I demand it.”

Rhaego chuckled again. “There is one thing…”