Page 31

AURELIA

T horin has targets set up in a clearing not far from the cabin with an old campfire and a fallen log in the center, and I immediately recognize why he agreed to our ill-advised outing. Because the clearing is small, we’re still mostly shrouded by the forest’s canopy and unlikely to be spotted by a passing helicopter.

Tree slices, six inches thick and two feet in diameter, have been sprayed with red rings on the smooth face and a smaller black circle in the center for the bullseye. The targets are held on tripods made of sturdy-looking branches, and I count as many as twelve hidden among the trees. The closest is only fifty meters away, and the furthest is about three hundred meters.

I’m still gawking at the targets, feeling more than a little intimidated when Thorin distracts me from my thoughts by pointing out a hollow tree to my right.

“This is where Bruce used to live.”

“Bruce?”

That’s when Thorin tells me we’re in the den of the surly bear who nearly disemboweled him and who currently adorns their living room floor.

“So, you moved into his territory, and when he tried to protect his home, you killed him?”

“No. We left his territory—or, at least, thought we did.” Pointing to his torso, he says, “I found out the hard way when Bruce tracked us down miles away that bears are highly territorial and don’t easily forgive a threat. The three of us had no idea what we were doing when we decided to live off the grid, so I’ll bear the responsibility. No pun intended.” When I just glare, Thorin sighs, his breath a white cloud billowing in the cold air. “The bear gave me no choice, Aurelia. It was him or me. Do you believe me?”

Remembering the wolf I killed and the second one I injured with the axe from the plane while they fed on Cassie’s entrails, I nod. It hadn’t mattered to me that she stumbled upon their den while looking for other survivors. Cassie and those wolves died because of my mistake. I had no business judging Thorin. “I do.”

“Good.”

“Did you have to turn him into a rug, though? That’s kind of mean.”

Thorin shrugs as he sheds the long, heavy overcoat he’s wearing as if it’s not negative two hundred degrees out here. “So was trying to eat me. Besides, Bruce was already dead. I didn’t think he’d mind.” When I purse my lips in disapproval, he sighs. “You look at him and see a decoration, but to me he’s a reminder that in order to survive out here, we needed to become apex predators ourselves. We needed to be as untamable as these wilds we call home.”

“Well, you clearly succeeded.”

Looking up from his pack that he’s crouched over, he gives me an amused look. “Apparently not, wolf.”

My cheeks are suddenly warm, so I’m grateful for the oversized hood that currently hides them from view. “Are you going to teach me to hunt, Thorin Thayer, or are you just going to flirt with me?”

“I’m an excellent multitasker.” Rising from his crouch, he walks over to me while strapping some kind of hip quiver full of arrows to his leg. He then takes the bow that’s lighter than it looks from my hand. “This weapon is called a compound bow. When I first saw you, you were filthy, bruised, and broken. It’s the vertical cousin of the crossbow. And I still thought you were the most stunning creature I’d ever seen. There are some key differences between the two bows though. Your voice is like a fist around my heart, tugging and squeezing until all I want to do is rip my heart out of my chest and give it you. The compound requires more skill and strength to kill effectively. I know I don’t deserve it, but I hope one day you’ll sing for me. It’s also slightly more accurate than the crossbow, but only if you know what you’re doing. I’ve never known anyone like you, Aurelia George. I hope you stay.”

“Stop that,” I scold without any of the command needed to let him know I meant it. I’m palming my cheeks under my gloved hands because…God, they are so warm. Warmer than they should be out here. I feel Thorin’s “flirting,” which feels more like a declaration of love, all the way down to places he shouldn’t be able to reach. My heart speeds up and slows down like it’s searching out his and trying to match its rhythm. “You might be great at multitasking, but I’m not. I can’t focus when you say things like that to me.”

Thorin doesn’t look cocky or mug at knowing he got to me. A contemplative expression crosses his face as he studies mine. I don’t know what he sees that makes him inhale deeply, but he lets me off the look.

“Let’s get started.”

“I’m not a good student,” I warn Thorin because I’m already regretting asking him to teach me to hunt.

“We’ll see,” he returns, and my eyes widen as he starts showing me all of the parts of the compound bow—the limbs, arrow shelf, grip, bowstring…

Ughhhh!

Et cetera.

Once Thorin’s done listing and pointing out all the components, he makes me repeat them. We continue doing this for ten minutes in the freezing cold, despite my whining and complaining until I finally get them all right.

Only then does he pluck a bow from the quiver and show me how to load it onto the shelf. His movements are smooth and confident, but when it comes time for me to mimic them, I fumble with the arrow until it slips from my fingers. The yellow arrow is bright against the white snow as I stare down at it.

“Are you going to pick it up?” Thorin quizzes with an impatient sigh.

“I’m thinking about it.”

“Pick it up, Aurelia.”

“Fine.”

Five minutes later, I still can’t get the damn arrow on the shelf without fumbling or dropping it. How does Thorin make it look so easy?

“Practice,” he tells me after I ask him. “And so will you.”

Ugh.

I’m not expecting him to step behind me—so close that I feel the heat from his chest warming my back and his lips moving against my cheek when he leans forward to see over my shoulder. “These fingers have always been so graceful,” he purrs as he takes my hand holding the arrow. “All you need to know now is where to place them.” I hold my breath as Thorin moves my fingers up along the hunting arrow until I reach the fletching. “Index and thumb only. It’s not a cock, Aurelia. You don’t need to fist the arrow like one.” Thorin’s husky laugh when I elbow him in the abs sends heat rushing down the slope of my neck and my heaving chest until my nipples harden under the heavy layers of clothing. “Good girl,” he praises when I follow his instructions. “Now load the fucking arrow, wolf. Make me proud.”

Holding my breath while he tightens his hold on my waist, I place the arrow on the rest, and two steps later, I have it fucking nocked.

“Holy shit,” I exclaim as I stare down at the bow. “I’m a bad ass. I’ll take my secret assassin card now. The Huntress has nothing on me.”

Thorin blows out a breath and chuckles. “Talk like that around Zeke, and he’ll come in his pants.”

My smile drops as I look over my shoulder to meet Thorin’s blue eyes. “Zeke? Don’t you mean Seth?”

He shakes his head. “No. Zeke is into comics and crime documentaries. Seth likes fantasy and romance.”

I turn my attention toward the bow in my hand again when I ask, “But he’s never met me. How do you know he’ll even like me?”

Thorin takes an unsettling amount of time to answer before sighing heavily. “I won’t lie to you, wolf. It’ll be rough when he wakes up. He’ll need time to get used to you, but I think—”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Thorin. What if he doesn’t come around? You’ll have to choose between us.”

Thorin gave up his entire life to keep his friend and brother safe. I’d be a fool to think he’d choose me.

If Zeke can’t accept me, I’m worse than fucked. I’m dead.

My fate rests in the hands of a man who is not entirely whole, a man I’ve never even met, and a man who has every reason to fear me.

And his name is Ezekiel Cura.

“Tell me, Thorin. Tell me right now that if Zeke wakes up and wants me gone, you’ll choose me. Better yet, tell me that you’ll let me go rather than kill me when he can’t.”

“Aurelia, I…I can’t.”

“I know. I wouldn’t have believed you if you had. A monster I can live with, Thorin. A liar, I cannot.”

I take one step away, and Thorin fists the back of my coat and yanks me backward until we’re connected again.

“Why does it have to be this way at all, Aurelia? What if there’s a way?”

“There isn’t.”

“We can make one,” he says almost desperately.

“You’re many things, Thorin, but you’re not selfish. If Zeke needs me gone, that’s the way it will be, and we both know why you can’t just let me go.” Peering over my shoulder, I stare into his frustrated blue eyes as I repeat his words from the night Khalil took me. “The fallacy is thinking that the choice was ever really yours.” I feel his grip loosen, and I shrug. “Zeke will give you no choice, and neither will I. He is your friend. I’m a warm hole and a loose end. There was never going to be any other outcome but this one.”

Thorin’s breathing quickens as the same wildness he had in his eyes the night he found me returns. I’m slipping through his fingers, and he can feel it. What wild animal won’t attack when its food is threatened?

Oddly, I don’t feel dread when I pull away from him, nor do I fear that he will hurt me, but his reaction still surprises me.

The feral look eases into an unreadable one as he shrugs. “Then I guess I’ll have to take a page from the book of Aurelia. When my back is against the corner and I have no choices left, fight like hell anyway and talk shit while doing it.”

He doesn’t give me time to figure out how to respond to that before taking the bow from me and continuing with his tutoring as if nothing happened.

“Keeping your shoulders level and your arm as straight as the arrow you’re pretending to fire, I want you to pull on the string, hold for five seconds, and release.” He unloads the arrow and quickly demonstrates before handing the bow back to me.

“I thought you were going to teach me how to hunt.”

“I will.” He waits until I raise the bow before adding, “First, you need the fundamentals. You need to learn how to use and respect the weapon you’ll hunt with.”

“Oh, fuck me. You’re about to Karate Kid me, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I am. Draw.”

Holding the bow as he showed me, I impatiently wait while Thorin takes his sweet time studying my form. A bead of sweat has already formed on my brow from the strength it takes to keep the taut bowstring fully drawn. I don’t know which is tighter—the tension in the string or the one between Thorin and me as he corrects my form. He kicks my feet apart to widen my stance, and I have to grit my teeth to concentrate. When his hands move from my arms to my shoulders to my belly and down to my waist, I give up with a gasp and relax my trembling arms.

Thorin doesn’t look the least bit surprised.

“We need to work on building the muscles in your arms, or you’ll never be able to hit anything useful. Again.”

I lift the bow to try again. “If the crossbow is more powerful and easier to shoot,” I struggle to get out as I keep the bowstring drawn, “how come you’re starting me off with this?”

“Because I earned the right to be a lazy hunter. Release.”

“Oh, thank God.” Relaxing my arm with a heavy exhale, I grumble when Thorin corrects my form again before telling me to draw.

A few hours later, I’m questioning why I asked Thorin to teach me to hunt. Was I really that bored? I did need a break from being the perfect hostage in The Cabin in the Woods , and learning how to kill shit was fun, but fuck, I’d forgotten how cold it was up here.

I stopped feeling my nipples hours ago.

“Do you really hate your mom?” I ask Thorin out of the blue when we finally take a break from aiming drills.

I’m sitting next to him on a fallen log, watching him raid his pack for our lunch. We’re sitting so close together that our thighs touch, and I tell myself it’s just for warmth as I scoot a little closer until our hips touch, too. As for my prying, I’m not sure why I want to know other than reminding myself of who I’m dealing with.

But wouldn’t that mean I already have my mind made up about who Thorin is? Is that fair when I’m asking him to bare part of his soul?

“She wasn’t really much of a mom to me, but no, wolf. I don’t hate her. She loved me when it suited her, so I guess it wasn’t all bad.”

“I’m sorry.”

He shrugs but avoids eye contact. “Don’t be. She isn’t.”

“How do you know?”

“The last words my mother said to me before she died was that she should have traded me for a better score when she had the chance.”

“She didn’t mean it, Thorin. She was sick. The drugs—”

“She was three years sober when she said it, wolf.”

“Oh.”

“As I said, it wasn’t all bad. For a very brief moment in time, I had a somewhat decent childhood. It lasted until she started missing the high the drugs gave her. She’d sworn to me that she was done for good and that she loved me too much to ever need them again, but I found out my mother’s love was nothing but empty promises.”

I wait for Thorin to finish pulling out a large thermos and two tin cups before I ask, “How did you know when she started again?”

As he divides the stew into the cups, he says, “She was mean for a while before she started hating her life a little less, and then she was nothing.”

“I guess we have that in common,” I whisper as I stare into the flickering flames and think about my mother, who also struggled with drug addiction.

But unlike Thorin, it didn’t ruin my childhood.

No, I was blindsided by it when my father died, and my mother seemingly went full-on junkie overnight after being clean for over a decade.

“We have many things in common, wolf. Care to share?”

He hands me one of the tin cups full of stew, and I use the excuse of taking a sip to buy myself time from answering. I’m pleasantly surprised at the temperature of the stew. It warms my blood almost immediately.

“I wasn’t enough for my mom either,” I finally say.

Thorin doesn’t remark or refute it like I tried to, and I’m grateful for it as we eat in silence. Maybe he understands me more than I want to admit.

“When did you make stew?” I ask when it dawns on me that it couldn’t have been this morning.

I’d lain awake most of the night, staring out the window the loft shares with the living room, crying inside like a winner. I’d even woken up an hour before Thorin to do more brooding and not crying.

It’s not that I particularly aspire to be some weepy girl who is easily driven to tears and hysterics, but to never cry? It’s just not normal. I can’t even pinpoint when it even began.

“Last night, after you went to bed.”

“Oh. Right.” Remembering how my uncle despised it whenever I pouted or felt any emotion that kept me from putting on a perfect performance, on and off the stage, I feel panic welling up in my chest. “I, uh, I’m sorry about that, Thorin. It won’t happen again,” I swear.

I’m watching Thorin’s face, so I see the moment his brows dip in confusion, and he stops mid-chew to glance down at me. I’m practically in his lap with how close I’ve burrowed into his side for his body heat—and okay, yes, the security too—so I can see the minute shift in his striking blue eyes. He wasn’t angry before, even when we spoke of his mom, but whatever I said chased away the smidgen of warmth I’d found as the chill in his eyes grows colder.

“Let me guess,” he says with a curl of his lips. “Your uncle?”

“He didn’t like it when I complained,” I explain, knowing it doesn’t even scratch the surface. Even now, far out of his reach, I’m still following my uncle’s rules. I’m still afraid of him.

I read a thousand responses across Thorin’s visage before he settles on the one I don’t see coming.

“Come here.”

“Thorin, if I come any closer, I’ll be in your lap.”

“Then get in my lap .” I almost forget to look unhappy about it when I stand and take a seat on his hard thigh. Once I’m settled, he says, “Baby, never forget. Even wolves howl at the moon.”

I stare down at my stew as his words sink in. “I don’t cry, Thorin. Ever.”

“I know.”

It should surprise me that Thorin’s noticed that, too, but it doesn’t. There isn’t much about me he doesn’t seem to already have a vested interest in. “I don’t think I even know how anymore.”

“I’m not particularly keen on seeing you cry, but it does worry me that you think you can’t.”

“I know I can’t.”

“Maybe you just haven’t had the right motivation.”

I lift a brow. “Are you saying you want to make me cry, Thorin?”

“We could try a few things guaranteed to make you weep,” he suggests in a low voice that makes my toes curl, “but I have a feeling it won’t be your eyes.” Suddenly, it feels like I can’t catch my breath, so I pinch my inner thigh to snap myself out of this Thorin haze I’ve fallen in. “Have I kissed you today, Aurelia George?”

“No. You know, I was wondering about that. I was thinking, ‘What is Thorin Thayer’s problem? All day, I put on the best performance of my life, playing the clueless female and letting him mansplain all the things to me, and still no kiss?’ What gives?”

“Perhaps if you use that mouth for something other than being a smart-ass, it would have occurred to you to kiss me.”

“Meh.”

The grin he flashes is slightly feral before he helps himself to a tight fistful of my curls. “Very well then.”

His lips are poised right above mine when the sudden crackling of the radio startles us both. The garbled voices speaking back and forth interrupt the moment and keep us both frozen like deer in headlights.

“Fuck.”

“What?”

Thorin doesn’t answer me as he tosses the rest of his stew into the snow before snatching mine out of my hand and doing the same. “I’ll have to take a raincheck on that kiss, baby.”

Grabbing my waist, he lifts me off his lap and onto my feet before standing himself and throwing everything back into his pack.

I just stand there in bewilderment and watch him scramble uncharacteristically to erase our presence from the clearing before grabbing both bows and his pack from the ground.

“Come on.” He wraps his hand around my arm as if he’s expecting me to fight him.

We’re standing so close now that I have to tilt my head back to meet his panicked gaze. “What’s the matter?”

For a moment, Thorin doesn’t look as if he’ll answer. And then he says tightly, “One of the search teams is nearby. Four or five miles at most if the radio is picking up their signal. The clearer it gets, the closer they are, and they’re closing in fast.” The muscles in his jaw jump. “I have no way of knowing which direction they’re coming from. They could be anywhere.”

We could walk right into them on our way back to the cabin.

“Oh,” I say quietly despite my heart pounding in my chest now. Can Thorin hear it?

His grip on me tightens as if he can and knows what I’m thinking. “Let’s go, Aurelia.”

“So we’re going back to the cabin?” I ask lamely because, of course, we are.

I’m stalling.

I think.

Thorin gives me a sharp look before releasing my arm and taking my hand, “We’re going home , wolf.”

He doesn’t start walking or even force me to. For a few costly seconds, the two of us just stand there silently communicating with our eyes as the voices on the radio become more distinct.

This isn’t Thorin’s and my usual battle of wills. It’s a negotiation that ends with a promise. I’m the first to move, turning my hand in his to link our fingers. He squeezes mine in response.

“Let’s go home,” I finally say.

It takes us longer to get back to the cabin because Thorin has to cover our tracks as we go, and with his gaze snapping my way every few seconds to make sure I don’t run off screaming the moment his back is turned, it eats up even more time.

He doesn’t stop watching me closely until I finally pick up a fallen spruce bough halfway to the cabin. I feel his eyes on me as I help erase my footprints from the snow, but I don’t dare look his way under the guise of focusing on sweeping the needle-like leaves across the snow.

We’re less than a mile from the cabin when Thorin’s eyes leave me to search the trees for any sign of movement. His head has been on a constant swivel since leaving the practice range. I don’t have much time—thirty seconds at most—so I make every second count as I unwind Cassie’s scarf from around my neck.

Thorin is looking behind him now, in the direction we’re traveling, when I let my fingers unfurl. Cassie’s scarf slips from my hand, but before it can hit the ground, a wind picks up the lightweight material and carries it off.

Watching it disappear around a copse of spruces just as Thorin looks in that direction, I say a silent prayer that it makes its way back to her.

The cabin is unusually quiet without Khalil and Seth’s endless racket, and I find myself missing it when I step from the downstairs bathroom hours later. Freshly showered, the loft and Khalil’s sleeping bag beckon me, so I start up the basement stairs with exhaustion weighing down my bones as I climb.

The wide green and brown gingham twilly from my costume is the only hope I have of keeping my twists protected and curls pinned, so I’m tying that around my head when I reach the first floor and find Thorin crouched in front of the wood stove.

He’s shirtless and wearing flannel pajama pants that match the flannel shirt I’m wearing. The same one I woke up in after I was unconscious and at their mercy for days. The reminder doesn’t fill me with dread like it used to—not after witnessing the care they spent putting me back together. I don’t even feel it when Thorin glances over his shoulder and stands when he sees me.

“You’re wearing my shirt,” he remarks.

“You’re not getting it back,” I say immediately. “It’s mine now.”

Thorin’s teeth flash when he smiles and laughs at me for laying claim to his shirt. “I wouldn’t have it any other way, wolf.”

Lifting the material to my face, I sniff the collar and frown at the scent of detergent and nothing else. “I may let you borrow it from time to time, though. It’s better when it smells like you.”

Thorin rolls his eyes playfully, but I suspect it’s to distract me from the fact that he’s actually blushing. “How generous of you. You’re too kind.” His gaze lands on the loft and lingers before returning to me. When his lips part, I know what he’s going to ask before he speaks.

The surprise comes when I answer the request before he can make it.

“Yes.”

I can see the tension leaving his shoulders even as the divot between his brows deepens. “You’re sure?” He glances at the loft again, comes to some conclusion, and sighs. “It’s okay if you don’t want to, Aurelia. I won’t force you.”

Moving away from the stairs, I feel as if I’m under a microscope as I walk over to stand in front of Thorin. “I want to.”

My assurance only makes him more wary and confused. “Why?”

“Because you care if I do. Come on.” I take his hand, which is so much rougher and bigger than mine, and lead him into his bedroom.

We’re forced to part when we reach the foot of his bed, and Thorin tells me to take the side closer to the wood stove in the corner. I walk that way, but Thorin doesn’t seem keen on letting me go. Our fingers linger until the very last moment, and I round the bed. I can already feel how much warmer it is on this side of the room. Through one of the windows next to the bed, I can see the full moon glowing above the second-highest peak. I walk over to it while Thorin climbs into his bed. From the corner of my eye, I can see him sitting against the headboard…watching me.

“If this is Big Bear and the mountain I crashed on is Little Bear, what is that one called?” I point to the mountain in question. “Mama Bear?”

“Close,” Thorin answers, and when I look away from the window, I see his amused smirk. “She is Maia.”

“Maia?” I frown. “Why Maia?”

“Don’t know.” He shrugs as he ties his long, blond hair into a topknot. “Never asked.”

I hum disapprovingly and take one last look at the mountain Maia before I walk over to Thorin’s bed. I hesitate for a moment, long enough to glance at the open door before my gaze flies to Thorin’s in surprise.

This isn’t my first time sleeping in Thorin’s bed.

Last time, he’d boarded the door shut so no one could get in or out. I was completely at his mercy. I can still see holes and nails in the frame from when he ripped the planks out the next morning and freed me without a word.

He hadn’t even fucked me.

We’d just lain uncomfortably on opposite sides of his cold, hard bed until morning. It was brutal.

“You can leave at any time, wolf.”

With that promise, I don’t linger a second longer. I climb into his bed and quickly settle under the covers. His mattress is still harder than I like but is warmer than I remember. It’s also smaller than Khalil’s, so there’s not much space left between us as we stare at each other in the dark with the help of the dimmed lamp on his nightstand.

“Good shower?”

“Mm-hmm. Yup.” It’s awkward for several moments as we lie on opposite sides of the bed. Timidly, I scoot toward the middle. “You?”

“It was okay,” he says. Thorin reaches out and pulls me the rest of the way until the front of our bodies are flush and his arm can curve around me. “Water pressure’s still shit. I need to remind Khalil about helping me check the pipes and pressure tank.” Thorin dips his head to run his nose down my neck. “You smell like him, songbird.”

“I used his soap,” I admit as I peer up at him. “You think he’ll mind?”

Thorin shakes his head on the pillow we’re now sharing. “Not even a little. What’s ours is yours, songbird.”

“As long as I’m willing to spread my legs for it,” I remind him dryly but without resentment.

Thorin nudges my chin and tips my head back for better access to my eyes when he asks, “Would you like to end our arrangement?”

I stumble over an answer before I settle on one that makes sense rather than the lie or the truth because they both scare me. “Seth and Khalil would never agree.”

“Yes, they would.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I know. Now, stop beating around the bush and tell me what you want, wolf.”

“No, okay? No. I don’t want to end our arrangement,” I grumble.

Thorin searches my gaze and then kisses the pout from my lips before his lips travel to my ear. “Glad we got that straightened out,” he whispers smugly.

God, I hate him.

Not really.

A little.

Ugh.

I can’t even decide anymore if I hate the prick or not.

“It also reminds me that you owe me for all the hair products that have now taken over my bathroom.”

I’m suddenly unable to catch my breath. I’m fucking panting for whatever it is he’ll make me do. Only Thorin, Khalil, and Seth have the power to touch this part of me that craves this. “Okay.”

“Turn over and present your pussy for fucking.”

“What? Now?”

“Of course.”

“What will you do?”

“Do you care?”

I swallow hard as my stomach dips. “No.”

“Then turn. The fuck. Over.” He punctuates each command with a kiss on a different part of my body until I’m aching for what comes next.

I turn over onto my stomach, and it causes the flannel to ride up, exposing the bottom curve of my ass to Thorin’s gaze.

“Where are your panties, baby?”

“I didn’t wear any in case you wanted to…in case you wanted me,” I say shyly.

Thorin slips his hand under the hem of his shirt and sweeps his thumbs over the swell of my bottom. “You’re perfect. Have I told you that, songbird?” He doesn’t wait for an answer before demanding, “On your knees.”

I do as he says until my ass is in the air and my pussy is exposed to the room. I can feel the heat from the stove and Thorin’s gaze, and God, it makes me weep.

The bed shifts, and I feel him between my thighs.

“Khalil is going to kill me for this,” Thorin mumbles cryptically. “He wanted to be the first.” There is a pointed pause, and I grow impatient to the point of fisting the sheets to keep from snapping at him to hurry. Thorin notices and growls. “Fuck it. I can’t wait anymore.”

I wait for him to enter me without any thought as to what “first” he might be alluding to.

The last thing I expect to feel is Thorin’s mouth on me.

He’s lying on his back as he kisses his way up my inner thigh. It forces him to lift his head and then his shoulders off the bed by the time he reaches the crease between my upper thigh and lower lips.

“Thorin?”

I feel him biting into my thigh when I squirm. “Hold still, songbird. I’m going to eat this gorgeous cunt.”

Thorin kisses my thigh one last time, but his intent still doesn’t sink in until I feel his tongue flick my clit. I jump in surprise, arching away from his mouth, and Thorin slaps my ass in reprimand. “Do that again, and I’ll tie you down.”

I moan miserably, but I do not move again while Thorin tortures me with his mouth and tongue. I’m not sure I can ever get used to the sensation, but before long, I stop running from it.

Thorin rests his head on the bed again and drags me down with him by my hips until I’m sitting on his face. I panic a little at the idea of smothering him, and Thorin seems to read my mind, tightening his hold to keep me where I am.

“Jesus, Thorin.”

I have no choice but to hold on to the headboard while he works his tongue through my pussy without mercy. Each time I’m close to coming, Thorin shifts his attention away from my clit, and the edging starts all over again.

Suddenly, the room is too warm, too stifling.

Eyes barely open, I move my hands to Thorin’s flannel and quickly slip the buttons free until the panels part, and I can breathe again. The shirt slips from my shoulders and catches on my elbows, exposing me even more for Thorin’s gaze as he watches me from below.

My nipples are hard against my palms as I cup my breasts and ride his face. When I come, it is with a splintered and delirious cry.

Thorin doesn’t give me time to recover.

He dumps me onto my back unceremoniously, shoves down his pajama pants just enough to free his swollen cock, and makes quick work fucking me into the mattress.

My heels dig into the muscled globes of his ass while he gives it to me with short, brutal strokes that make me scream and come again before he spills inside of me.

When Thorin doesn’t immediately roll away but instead stays inside of me until his cock is flaccid, my suspicions are raised.

“I know…what you’re doing,” I accuse through attempts to catch my breath. He’s lying next to me now, doing the same. “You’re trying…to get me…pregnant.”

“Congratulations, Aurelia. You’re the last to know.”

I narrow my gaze at his nonchalance. “It won’t work.” Thorin lifts his head to peer down at me with a curious look, but instead of telling him I know why he’s trying to breed me, I say, “I’m on birth control.”

“Oh, yeah? How long has it been since you’ve taken the pill?”

“Who says it’s the pill I’m taking?”

He gives me an eerie look that tells me to cut the bullshit. It sends a chill down my spine that he once again knows more about me than he should.

“Well, I still won’t allow it,” I declare impetuously. “Consider my body a hostile environment, asshole. No sperm shall pass.”

“Good. I think my sperm likes a challenge.”

I punch the bed and glare at him. “Why are you all of a sudden impossible to piss off?” I yell.

Thorin laughs, then pulls me down to lie on his chest with a quick kiss on my forehead. “Blame yourself for making me this fucking happy, wolf.”

My lips part, but no words come out.

He’s happy? Why? Does he know something I don’t?

I’m too afraid to know the answer, so I don’t ask him, and we don’t speak again for several moments.

I’m actually close to falling asleep when I mumble against his chest, “Can I ask you something?”

“I know what you’re going to ask, and no, you don’t snore…you do talk in your sleep, though.”

I sit up with a gasp, and my hands brace against his hard chest. “I do not.”

He grunts in disagreement but does not say more.

Rolling my eyes, I lay back down, and Thorin makes sure I’m curled back onto his chest. “That was not what I wanted to ask, you jerk.”

“Ask your question, Aurelia.”

“Actually, it’s about that. What you call me. Sometimes, it’s wolf, and sometimes, it’s songbird. Why?” It’s unusual to have more than one pet name for a person, isn’t it?

“First, tell me why you think, and I’ll tell you if you’re right.”

I roll my eyes, but then my mind sifts through all the times he called me wolf and songbird.

The former always seems to be when I’m being combative, protective, strong-willed, or even playful. He calls me songbird when I’ve either pleased, tamed, or surprised him. And he seems to reserve my name, Aurelia, for whenever I’ve exasperated or annoyed him.

“Wolf is for how you make me feel. Songbird is for how I make you feel.”

“You will always be both to me, not one or the other,” he confirms. “You are fierce, and you are gentle. You are spoiled, and you are selfless. You are terrifying, and you are fucking beautiful, Aurelia George. A dream and a nightmare. My songbird and my wolf. No matter what I call you, Aurelia, you are mine. I lay claim to every part of you.”

My heart thumps against my chest while the rest of me is frozen. I don’t blink or make a sound as I replay his words in my fried mind.

All of me.

He wants all of me.

Not just the palatable parts.

Does Thorin even know what he just offered me? Total and unyielding acceptance, which I’ve always dreamed of but never got, no matter how many people screamed my name or claimed to love me.

“Now, go to sleep,” he orders. “We’ll train some more in the morning.”

Thorin, apparently done talking for the night, reaches over and shuts off the lamp, plunging the room into total darkness before he can see just what his words have done to me.