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F ilak had been waiting for Daisy . In the latrine .

Daisy gaped at him for a long, frozen instant, and then whirled around to stare at the closed curtain behind her. “ H -how?” she stammered, over the thudding in her ears. “ Where — where the hell did you come from?”

But Filak was already striding toward her, his head cocking sideways, his clawed hand reaching toward her face. “ Daisy ,” he murmured. “ Hvae er ae ?”

Daisy’s heart was still clamouring, and she recoiled backwards, away from his outstretched hand. “ You ,” she croaked. “ Did you — did you kill someone? Someone you knew?”

Filak’s head tilted further, and his brow furrowed. Looking confused, uncertain, because of course he couldn’t understand her — and a harsh, frustrated noise escaped Daisy’s throat as she wildly waved down the corridor. “ Rosa said,” she began, frantically grasping for the few Aelakesh words she’d learned that day. “ Rosa sagei — your Ka -esh kin — your fólk — that you —”

There was no word for it, nothing, and finally Daisy made a fist with her hand, and stabbed it toward Filak’s heart, toward his own marked sun. As if she was holding a dagger, and gouging it into him again and again. Killing him.

Filak stared down at Daisy’s stabbing hand for a long, unmoving instant — and when he glanced up again, his eyes were wide, his face paler than before. “ Hvae ?” he asked. “ Sagei Rosa tetta ?”

He was asking if Rosa had said that, surely — and Daisy swallowed, and jerked an erratic shrug, another wild wave of her hand. “ Rosa doesn’t know!” she countered, stupidly, because of course Filak couldn’t understand that, either. “ Apparently no one knows, not even Julian ! And how the hell am I supposed to know, either, when we still can’t even talk to each other!”

Filak’s head tilted even more, as distinct frustration flashed across his eyes. “ Daisy ,” he said, almost reproachfully. “ Rosa veit ekkert. Tú getur trúae mér .”

As he’d said Rosa’s name, his hand had slashed sideways, saying no, no Rosa . Rosa doesn’t know , perhaps. Do not listen to her.

And gods, Daisy wanted to believe it. So stupid, so ridiculous, standing here unmoving as Filak eased closer, his gaze flinty on her face. “ Róleg , sólin mín ,” he said, quieter. “ Treystu mér .”

Róleg meant peace, Daisy vaguely recalled, and she shuddered out a slow, unsteady breath as Filak’s hand rose again, settling warm against her cheek. And though she flinched beneath it, she didn’t move, didn’t run away. Peace , my sun.

“And the other women, too,” Daisy blurted out. “ Have you really been propositioning every single woman you met? For an entire year ? Looking for another” — she waved her still-shaky hand at the mountain around them — “another mate? Another sálufélagi ?”

Sálufélagi had been another word from the book, and Filak’s head tilted again, his fingers spreading wider against her face. “ ég vil sálufélaga ,” he said, as his eyes held to hers. “ ég vil tig, Daisy . Daisy mín. Sólin mín . You .”

You . Yet another word they’d both learned that day, and the common-tongue again sounded flat and stilted on Filak’s mouth. But his eyes were still hard and certain, his sharp thumb now stroking at her cheek. “ You , Daisy mín ,” he said, lower. “ Sólin mín .”

His other hand slipped down to Daisy’s heart, spreading wide against that sun he’d drawn on her skin — and brushing against her breast through her dress, too. And curse her, because Daisy’s breath should not — not — have caught like that. She did not want that, she did not want him, not now, not after everything…

But Filak’s dark lashes lowered, his hand purposefully slipping downwards, curving brazen and proprietary over her breast. Touching her, caressing her, so warm and certain and reassuring, and Daisy should be shoving him away, demanding he explain and tell her the truth —

And not — this. Not standing here, breathing hard, as Filak stepped even closer, and ducked his face into the crook of her shoulder. “ Róleg , Daisy mín ,” he murmured, and oh, she could feel his soft lips, kissing at her skin, at that damned metal kraga still around her throat. “ Tú ert sálufélagi minn. Stjarnan mín. Sólin mín .”

You are my mate , it meant. My star. My sun.

Daisy shuddered all over, but oh, the feel of his steady safe hands, still stroking and caressing, even as they began purposefully guiding her backwards. Toward the wall behind her, its stone hard and cool against her back, Filak’s tall warm body blocking her in, pinning her close. As his kisses to her neck sharpened, deepened, his teeth gently scraping…

“ Filak ,” Daisy choked, grimacing over his shoulder. “ This was already bad enough, but now you could be a — a murderer .”

But Filak only made a low rumbling growl against her throat, his teeth nipping a little sharper. And Daisy gasped, shuddering again, arching into his hand caressing her waist, her hip, her arse…

“You could have killed people,” she gritted out. “ Your own family! And then you left and came here, reeking of their blood !”

But Filak’s growl sounded distinctly displeased this time, his claw-tipped hand tightening against her arse. “ Daisy ,” he murmured, muffled into her throat. “ Róleg . Nóg um tetta. ”

The sound from Daisy’s mouth might have been a groan, or a curse. “ Or an — an extortioner!” she continued, high-pitched. “ Or a thief! Or a — a philanderer! You could have already done this to dozens of women, to all those women you were propositioning, all that time. You could be just another lying cheat, just like Lew !”

And surely Filak recognized Lew’s name, at least, because his head snapped up and back, his eyes narrowing sharply on hers. “ Nei , Daisy ,” he said, low and commanding. “ Nei Lew . Nei .”

No Lew , it meant. No .

But it was something, something, and maybe Daisy needed to push it, needed to hear it. Needed to know, to learn, for herself…

“Just like Lew ,” Daisy snapped, harder than before, jabbing her finger into Filak’s bony chest. “ Lying to me. Keeping huge deadly secrets from me. And acting as though I’m something special to you, as though I’m your sól , your sálufélagi ” — she gulped for air — “when in truth, the offer is apparently open to any woman who wanders across your path! Just — like — Lew !”

Filak’s expression darkened as she spoke, his brow deeply furrowing. And in a sudden movement, his hands snatched away from her, and instead yanked at — his trousers. Tugging them downwards with a swift, impatient jerk, and releasing —

That . His thick, bobbing cock.

Damn. It was just as impossible as last time Daisy had seen it, covered all over with those same curling black marks, its hood painted a full, inky black. And from within it, the pearly white was already seeping, hanging from his cleft in a glossy, lengthening string…

But — wait. There . Something — new. Those twining black lines on his shaft had been there before, yes, but now, in the midst of them, was… a sun . With multiple new lines radiating out from it, painted with what almost looked like fresh wet ink. And the lines didn’t end with Filak’s shaft, but instead spiralled up and out over his lean hips and his hollow belly — and even down over his swollen bollocks, too. As if the sun was… growing. Spreading .

Daisy stared at it for an instant too long, her body unmoving, her breath choked off in her throat. Gods , it was a sight, it was bizarre, it was absurd, it was utterly ludicrous —

And it was — hers. Her mark, her prayer, her sun, radiating out all over Filak’s groin, all over his swollen leaking cock.

Hers. Sólin mín.

Daisy swallowed, still staring, and suddenly there was the strangest, most overpowering urge to — draw it. To put this to paper, to keep it, to remember it forever, because it was — it was art. It was art, it was shocking and surreal and — and absolutely, utterly stunning. Hers .

Daisy’s face felt far too hot, suddenly, her mouth opening and closing — and when her gaze snapped back upwards, Filak’s eyes were hooded and glittering on hers. “ For you , sólin mín, ” he said, husky, as his hand dropped downwards, and blatantly traced a claw over his new sun. “ Filak og Daisy . Sálufélagar . Ach ? ”

Daisy’s head twitched, maybe shaking, maybe saying no, she didn’t believe him, she couldn’t — they still weren’t mates , were they? But in return Filak’s eyes flashed, his hand snapping up to grip her chin, tipping her face toward him. Wanting her to say it, but she couldn’t, she couldn’t trust him, he could be a lying cheating murderer …

A low growl burned from Filak’s throat, his head tilting back in obvious frustration — and in a sharp, sudden movement, he shoved Daisy — downwards. Down onto her knees, here, trapped between him and the stone wall, in a gods-damned latrine .

But Daisy … didn’t fight it. Didn’t even try. Just blinked at that shocking sight of his cock now bobbing before her eyes, marked and swollen and leaking. Hers .

“Ach?” Filak demanded, with a light little slap of his hand to Daisy’s hot cheek — and her gasp escaped on its own, her lashes fluttering as she blinked up toward his hard watching eyes. Because maybe she wanted to see this, maybe she’d wanted him to show her, help her to see, to learn…

“ Tú ert mín, Daisy ,” came Filak’s clipped, unrepentant voice. “ Filak og Daisy . Daisy og Filak . Sálufélagar . Ach ?”

And as if to prove his point, he even swiped for Daisy’s hand, drawing it up into his clawed fingers. Showing them both that beautiful yellow ring, still sparkling on her finger, betraying her. Maybe even saying… yes.

But Daisy wasn’t saying it, or was she? Just kneeling like this before him, waiting, needing. Needing to learn, to know, to see what he would do next.

“Ach?” he demanded, with another light, thrilling slap to her cheek, followed by a gentle stroke of his fingers against his new black-painted sun. “ Tú ert mín, Daisy . Sólin mín .”

You are mine, Daisy . My sun.

“ Mín ,” he insisted, a low hungry hiss in his throat, as he spread his hand before Daisy’s eyes, showed her the black ink now smudged onto his pale fingertips. Showing her that it was fresh, it was new, it was hers . And — Daisy’s tongue brushed her lips — the ink was also safe, right? Made from fruit, Julian had said…

And when Daisy still didn’t move, Filak’s hand slid to her mouth, and tugged her lips apart. Opening her up for him, oh gods, making his intent very clear. Giving her every opportunity to say no, to shove him away, to run, to escape him, to forget.

But instead, Daisy just… stayed there. Stayed there, kneeling, gasping, waiting, saying… yes. Yes , yes, gods yes, even as Filak opened her mouth wider, shifted his hips forward…

And then he slid himself inside. Slow , brazen, utterly calm, as if he had every right to put his cock in her mouth. Every right to fill her, to occupy her, to flood all her screeching senses with his marked sliding skin, his thick vibrating heft. And most shocking of all, his impossibly stunning sweetness, oozing out from inside him, painting itself over her tongue…

Daisy choked, betrayed a low, shaky moan — and then she was lost, utterly defeated, sucking hard and desperate against him. Drawing more of that decadent sweetness out from him, while he hissed a groan, and shuddered even fuller between her lips. His clawed hands lightly skittering against her hair, because he liked it, he wanted it, he wanted her . Only her.

And she wanted him, wanted this, so much it was a fierce blazing frenzy, whipping her forward. Sucking him deeper, harder, feeling him swell and spurt out more in return. Speaking to her, speaking this one clear language they both knew, and Daisy moaned again, her fluttering eyes briefly finding Filak’s face. And then holding, catching, because oh, that look in his eyes, that vicious glittering triumph, his mouth curling up, his claws sinking deeper into her hair.

“ Mín ,” he breathed, hot and menacing. “ Sjúgeu á mér typpie, sólin mín .”

With that, he held Daisy’s head firm and still as he slowly slid himself out, until his oozing blackened crown was just kissing at her lips — and then, with a deep, satisfied growl, he sank himself back inside. Faster this time, smoother, again as if he had every right to fill her mouth with him, to bury himself snug and shuddering against her convulsing throat.

But he did, he did , even when he began moving harder and faster, plundering her with swift, decisive purpose. Plunging deeper and deeper, until Daisy almost gagged on it — but then he drew backwards again, until he’d tugged himself free with a loud, obscene pop. So he could instead prod and paint his seeping black tip against her lips, watching her desperately slurp and lick and suckle at him, and even kiss at that beautiful new sun — her sun — on his skin.

And he liked that, oh gods, the wicked satisfaction blazing through his eyes as he smeared himself back and forth on her mouth — and then he plunged into her throat again. Holding himself deep with his firm, unyielding hands on her head, his claws scraping against her scalp, as he murmured low, fluent, silken words she couldn’t understand.

It was ludicrous, outrageous, this appalling orc making himself utterly at home in her mouth, using her, ravaging her. Maybe even trapping her again, holding her here on her knees with his hard invading flesh, his sharp deadly claws…

But it didn’t matter. None of it mattered. Only the frenzy and the craving, the wild screaming need for it. Needing Filak’s commands, his certainty, his control. And his approval, too, maybe even his tenderness, that gentle scrape of his claws, the husky softness in his voice as he spoke. All at such bizarre, compelling odds with the greedy, shameless way he kept using her mouth, plunging into her throat, making her his, his, his…

“ Gott, sólin mín ,” he breathed, as his head arched back, his teeth bared, his eyes half-lidded and blazing. “ Tú ert svo falleg, svo trong, ach —”

His voice broke, his whole body jolting — and with a shout, he bore down, and burst out into Daisy’s throat. Spewing out spurt after spurt of that succulent sweetness, hot and fervid and gushing, so thick it flooded her mouth, spilled out her lips. But it tasted so good, so fucking good , and she desperately gulped to swallow, as her own shaky hand slid to her groin, ground against it once, twice —

And then her own release shot through her, too. Sharp and bright and burning, everything, oh gods, everything —

It took all her focus to stay upright, to cling to it, to ride the crashing, careening waves of it. To feel the steady certainty of Filak’s hands, stroking her again, trembling just a little against her hair. And he was speaking again, too, hushed, rushed, breathless words she still couldn’t understand, but they still made perfect, exquisite sense as they dropped through her thoughts. Like magic, like a soft, shimmering dream.

Good, Daisy . Good , my sun. You are so pretty, so sweet, you are mine, mine, mine —

But it was that, perhaps, that finally flickered into Daisy’s awareness. His . His . As if this was settled again, now, now that she — she’d done this. She’d eagerly knelt and sucked him, in a latrine .

Because — because why? Because Filak had wanted it? Because he hadn’t actually answered a single one of Daisy’s questions, had he? She still knew nothing about his past, his family, what he’d done, or why… right? Was she really that desperate, foolish , oh gods, oh gods…

And even as she shoved Filak away, away, it was too late. Not just for her own stupidity, but for — for —

“Filak!” yelped a voice, far too loud and shrill and familiar. “ What the hell?”

And when Daisy wrenched to look toward it, it was — Rosa . Rosa , standing in the curtained doorway — and now Julian appeared over Rosa’s shoulder, too. Both of them looking shocked and chagrined and maybe even furious.

They’d seen — everything .