Page 30 of Heartsong
Frey wasn’t sure what had invited her nervous chatter, but he wanted Anna to be at ease. He let an easy smile slide onto his lips and spread his wings wide.
“There is plenty of room right here. We can both see for ourselves the fruits of your gifts,” he said, reaching for the ties of his braies.
The depth and violence of her blush was something to see, and Frey couldn’t help a chuckle and lift of his brows before heading off through the dwelling. Nor another when he heard her guffaw at realizing he teased.
She’d said he could use her room and so he took the opportunity, stealing inside the one place he’d yet to explore. A bed took up almost half of it, a mattress piled with blankets and pillows laid atop a metal frame. A dresser with mismatched knobs and a trunk with a broken latch sat atop a faded but still striking rug. Thick curtains hung beside each of the windows, and two potted plants sat together on the windowsill.
It was a tidy space, nothing like the clutter of his nest back in his clanhome on the western cliffs near Caerdyf. After the death of his mother and sister, Frey lived in the family dwelling by himself but had been unable to part with anything. Over the years, he hadn’t been able to part with much at all, and so things accumulated.
In Anna’s bedchamber, everything seemed to have a space. There were a few things left untidied, though, like the thrown-back corner of her blankets, an undergarment laid out on the trunk, a scattering of small items across the dresser top. He found them all charming, like she couldn’t quite contain herself. Most of all, the room smelled strongly of her, making it his favorite of the dwelling.
It took effort to ignore all the fine fabrics saturated in her scent. His claws itched to take the discarded undergarment, tantalizingly shaped like female breasts, and bring it to his nose.
He busied himself with her gifts instead, shucking his leathers to step into the gray braies she’d provided. They were just as soft as he’d hoped, skimming the contours of his lower legs but stretching across the muscles of his thighs. Frey slung them low on his hips, allowing his tail out from the waist of the garment.
Next was a sleeved shirt dyed many hues of blue with pleasing squares and lines in golds and greens. Another wave of gratitude overtook him; blue was the most precious, most expensive dye. His mate had gone to great trouble and expense for him, and he wouldn’t forget it.
He was pleased to find two precise slits had already been made in the shirt, and when he pushed his arm into a sleeve, the first wing joint slid right through. With a few adjustments, the shirt laid upon his shoulders, leaving his wings free. The sleeves were a little tight around his upper arms, and though a row of buttons marched down the front, he doubted he could secure all of them with his claws and so decided to forgo it.
Twisting and bending, he was delighted with how soft and flexible the fabrics were, the clothes offering a pleasant caress with each movement.
Yes, these would do nicely. And perhaps in human clothes, his Anna would stop seeing him as a beast come to life. Perhaps, in clothes she’d chosen for him, she would see the male that wanted to be hers.
There was little light in the bedchamber, but Frey looked at himself in the mirror mounted above the dresser for a moment.
He knew what he looked like, of course. They’d had looking glasses and clear lakes to spy one’s reflection in. Yet neither were as clear as the gleaming mirror here or in the washing chamber.
The face gazing back at him wasn’t entirely one he knew. It was that of a young guardian, a male in his prime and strength. Frey had already lived far longer than his face. Or, if not lived,existedfor longer than his face could tell. He felt older, and in these human clothes, he recognized himself even less.
Nonsense,he told himself.It is just the novelty.
And the suddenness of his new existence.
Just like wooing his mate, it would take time.
Good hunters adapt.
And speaking of his mate, he’d been away from her far too long.
Turning from the mirror, he snagged that undergarment off her trunk, unable to help himself. He buried his nose in the fabric, drawing in a long draught of her scent. It calmed his mind, and he couldn’t help running the soft fabric in circles over his cheek, working a bit of her scent into his skin.
Guardians were much more sensory than humans, given bestial senses to better hunt and fight. It also meant a more visceral reaction and sense of one’s mate, family, and kin. Already he knew he could find Anna’s scent on the wind from leagues away. In the same way that her presence had called him from his stone sleep, their connection meant he would always be able to find her now.
With one last pull, he replaced the undergarment and made his way back into the kitchen.
Anna was spooning their meal into bowls but looked up when he stepped into the bright lights. Her brows shot up her forehead, and Frey wasn’t above flexing his wings and puffing his chest for her, either.
Another blush overtook her face, and a sort of gurgling noise escaped her lips before she clapped a hand over them. Her eyes kept flicking downward, below his waist.
Frey glanced down at himself in the better light. Ah. The cut of the braies left little to the imagination about the size and shape of his cock. He glanced up at her through his lashes, assessing. Perhaps this was a test, a show of his virility?
Anna spun back to the food, but the blush remained.
“They look great!” she said too loudly. “Do you like them?”
A smug smile curled his lips. The sight of him in these clothes, the hint of his cock, had affected her. A new scent began to permeate the air, even over the smells of the meal she’d made, one that only deepened his pleasure.
She feels something.
