Page 28 of The Longing

Good.

“I’m…I’m tired. I’m going to go to bed.” I stumble over the words, pushing them out as fast as I can.

The corner of Fenrother’s mouth quirks up. “I will accompany you,” he says.

“What about…” I flail for an excuse. “What about your meal?” I point at the carcass still slowly turning over the fire.

“I already ate,” Fenrother says.

A shiver runs through my body. A shiver which is different to all the others I’ve felt here in the Yeavering. It’s a shiver I should not be having. A reaction I should not give in to.

“Oh,” I respond, not looking at him, but my eyes drifting to the tapestry above, where I quickly tear them away.

“An ancestral portrait, of sorts.” Fenrother catches my gaze. “The seventh Wyrm commissioned it, so the Duegar tell me.”

“I don’t like it,” I blurt out.

Fenrother says nothing. He continues to look at me. His gaze is somewhere between his scientific stare and confusion.

I take my chance, turning on my heel and quickly making my way down the hall to the stairs. I know I’m going to Fenrother’s bedroom. I know he’s entitled to sleep there, and given his complete lack of awareness, he will probably insist on it.

I mean, I don’t dislike the idea.

The thought gets shoved aside as I grab handfuls of material, hike up my skirts, and climb the stairs. No historical drama or movie ever explained how bloody difficult it is to get around in one of these huge dresses. It’s something I’m going to have to practice.

When I get to the bedroom, it is, mercifully, empty. Only my heart seems like it has strained a little in my chest, a pain spearing through it, albeit briefly. I pull the dress over my head as quickly as I can and grab an oversized shirt from the wardrobe before hurrying through to the bathroom to do what I need to do. My stomach is cramping from eating too much tart in one go, so I resolve not to do that again.

Even if it was the tastiest thing I’ve had in a very long time.

A bit like Fenrother.

My internal monologue is not helping this situation at all. I’m completely blindsided by my reaction to my big monster.

Ilikedthe kiss. I liked it a lot. I didn’t want it to end and in fact…

Shoving the erotic thought away, I shrug on the shirt. The thing has to be Fenrother sized, even if I’ve never seen him wear anything on his top half.

It’s almost like a challenge for him.

I exit the bathroom, and sat on the bed propped against the carved headboard is Fenrother. Fortunately, he is still wearing what little clothing he bothers with. His eyes widen as he sees me, carefully looking over what I now have on.

Something he’s probably going to complain about, I’m sure.

“You left,” he says simply.

“You found me,” I respond, pulling back the bedclothes and climbing into the big bed.

I try not to think about the last time I was in this bed with Fenrother, naked against his Wyrm form.

“I found you,” he repeats before there is a small sigh. “I…liked you putting your mouth on mine.”

“You liked the kiss?”

“Kiss.” Fenrother touches his clawed fingers to his lips. “I liked the kiss.”

“As I’m supposed to be your mate, I’d be surprised if you didn’t,” I say, turning on my side away from him.

Fenrother says nothing for a while. Instead I hear his breathing, like the huge creature he is, the air whooshing in, then out of his lungs, as I study the stonework on the other side of the room.

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