Page 38 of Must Love Scones and Secrets
Bjorn’s eyes widened in surprise before darkening with renewed hunger. His hands gripped my hips, guiding my movements as we hovered.
“Rosalyn,” he groaned, his control clearly slipping.
“Give me all of you. I want you, Bjorn,” I whispered.
That was all it took. With a deep moan, he found release, his hands clutching me to him as he pulsed inside me. The intensity of his climax caused spasms of pleasure to wash through me in a way I’d never experienced before. It was dreamlike. When I collapsed against his chest, my wings finally slowed and stilled, lowering us back onto the mattress.
We lay tangled together for several moments, catching our breath as the storm continued to rage outside. Bjorn’s hand stroked my back lazily, careful of my sensitive wings.
“That was...” he began, seeming at a loss for words.
“Magical?” I suggested with a smile.
He laughed softly. “Definitely magical.”
We stayed like that, exchanging lazy kisses and gentle touches as our bodies cooled. Eventually, Bjorn pulled the blanket over us and tucked me against his side, his arm around my shoulders.
“I never expected this when I came to Moonshine Hollow,” he said quietly, his fingers playing with a strand of my hair.
I propped myself up on an elbow to look at him. “Expected what?”
He met my gaze, and there was something vulnerable in his eyes. “You. Us. This.”
My heart swelled. “Well, I never expected a handsome Rune elf to ride into town and sweep me off my feet, either. Sometimes, the best magic is the unexpected kind.”
Bjorn smiled, but there was a shadow behind his eyes that I couldn’t quite read. Before I could ask about it, he pulled me in for another kiss, closed his eyes, and pressed his cheek against my head.
Nestled in his arms, I felt more content than I could remember being in a very long time. The steady rise and fall of his chest, the warmth of his skin against mine, and the way his arm held me close even as he drifted off to sleep all felt right. Safe. Like coming home to a place I’d never been before.
The storm outside quieted somewhat, though rain still pattered against the roof. Merry and Smoke had curled up beside one another, Merry playing the part of an opportunist and Smoke the unwitting bedwarmer. I saw Merry’s tail twitching occasionally in his sleep, and I smiled. Even my fickle caticorn seemed at peace here.
I was just drifting back to sleep when I heard a faint, melodic humming coming from outside. At first, I thought it was just the wind through the trees, but the sound was too organized, too purposeful.
Carefully slipping from Bjorn’s embrace, I pulled on the oversized shirt and padded to the window. The rain had slowed to a gentle drizzle, more mist than rain, and in the faint pre-dawn light, I could make out tiny points of brightness hovering near the edge of the fields.
Fairies. But not the kind that tended gardens in Moonshine Hollow. These were wild fairies, rare, royal, and notoriously mischievous. And they were…singing?
I watched, transfixed, as they seemed to troupe in a line toward the forest, carrying small lanterns as they went. This wasn’t normal fairy behavior, especially not for wild fairies who usually kept away from human habitation.
“Bjorn,” I called softly, turning back to the bed. “I’m so sorry to wake you, but you must see this.”
He stirred, blinking at me in confusion before awareness returned. “Are you all right?”
“Yes,” I said, my heart warming that his first thought was toward my comfort. “Come see.”
“What is it?”
“Fairies. Wild ones. And they’re acting strangely.”
That got his attention. He rose from the bed, pulling on his trousers before joining me at the window. His arm slipped around my waist naturally, as if we’d been doing this for years rather than hours.
“I’ve never seen them behave like this,” I said, gesturing. “These are wild fairies. They never come this close to town. Should we… Maybe they know something about the magic.”
Bjorn hesitated only a moment before nodding. “Let me get dressed.”
We quickly donned our now-dry clothes and slipped out into the misty dawn, following the fairy procession. They trouped through the forest to a circle-shaped opening in the woods. There, we found a single standing stone covered in white flowers. The stone was ancient, carved in spiraling patterns that reminded me of Bjorn’s runes.
Around the base of the stone, wildflowers were blooming, rare, magical varieties that I’d only ever seen in herbalist shops. Silver bellflowers, moon poppies, and the elusive starshatter lily,its petals changing color with each shift of the light, grew in abundance.
