Page 49 of WitchBorn

“Can’t I nap?” I asked sleepily staring up at him. He looked bigger again. Which meant I was back in the fawn form. The heat would rise soon.

“I can carry you for a while.” He glanced around. “I was never a gym bro. But this smaller form isn’t that heavy.”

“You could fuck me and recharge.”

“Tempting as you are… will you be good if I carry you?”

“Define good?”

“Not tempt me to throw you on the ground and fuck you till we both see stars.”

“That sounds really nice.”

“Not when you might have broken ribs and a fever.”

I sighed.

“What?”

“Last chivalrous man on earth, and I get stuck with him as a mate.”

“You want me to act more like the wolf? He’s an asshole.”

He was and wasn’t. His demand instinct rather than emotion. Was that the difference? Animals could feel emotion.I never questioned that. Not only because I could become the Stag, but I’d seen my fair share of animals reacting to everything from harm to loss to affection. Did the wolf think he was immune to emotion if he buried it deep enough or cast it to his human half? Or maybe Winter froze that part of him.

He knelt down. “Climb on.”

“The mark has gotten bigger.”

“I’m trying not to drain you. Get on.”

I draped myself over his back and wrapped my legs around his waist to ease some of my weight, and he rested a careful hand on my thigh when I’d rather have it on my bare ass. “You’re thinking very hard,” Finn said.

“I’m getting very hard, too,” I grumbled as my cock pressed against his stomach.

He groaned. “I can tell. Behave. Rest. The sun is coming up and I think I know where we are.”

“Okay,” I agreed. The heat emanating off him soothing even while my groin ached. “Really sucks being witchborn,” I grumbled into his shoulder. How could he still smell good after several days out in the woods without a bath? Was he using some sort of glamour? I licked his shoulder.

“Don’t do that.”

“You taste good.”

“Okay.” He hesitated. “Do I want to know what witchborn is?”

“It’s what everyone calls those who are part fae.”

“An insult, you mean?”

“Depends on the person speaking.”

“Usually does,” Finn said. He carried us away from the clover field and past the little creek. I longed for a bath as the sweet sound of running water trickled by, and hadn’t realized how tired I was until Finn was shaking me awake.

“Huh? I’m awake.” I coughed hard, lungs screaming for air. After a few rounds of coughing and wheezing, I sucked in air, though craved more.

“You’re burning up.” Finn leaned over me. “And still shivering. Fuck. We need to get you out of here.”

“Never been sick before,” I said.