Page 80 of Heartsong
“You just got back?”
“No. I…” He didn’t quite know why he flushed nor why the words tangled on his tongue. “I settled across the street last night. I didn’t know if I was welcome.”
She was quiet for a while, the only sign that she hadn’t fallen asleep the movement of her fingers as they traced patterns on the surface of the water.
“You were here all this time.”
It wasn’t a question, but Frey answered her anyway. “Yes. You are my north star, Anna. My…my home.”
Those brows drew together again, and Frey worried her headache was worsening. But then her hand, wrinkled and hot from the water, reached up to cup his jaw.
“You say things like that and all my arguments start sounding silly.”
He wasn’t sure what to do with her words, drowsy and muddled as she was, but he decided to take heart. Covering her hand with his, he pressed her palm into his skin, soaking up the feel of her touch.
They stayed like that until the water cooled, then he washed her limbs and back. Anna was warm and boneless when Frey finally helped her from the tub. He fetched clean clothes while she toweled off, and he helped her dress into loose, comfortable layers. Finally, he carried his mate back to her bed and set her amongst all the soft blankets.
The sight of her there, safe and comfortable, sated the fiercest of those protective instincts.
That she reached for him in the darkness and asked, “Will you stay with me?” sated the rest.
He’d never refuse her, but trying not to seem overeager, Frey eased onto her bed. He held still while it creaked, and when it didn’t give under his bulk, he rolled to his side and drew Anna into his body.
The little contented sigh she made would stay with Frey until the goddesses sent him to the Otherworld.
“You’re so warm,” she said, words still slurred, but now from relaxation.
His chest rumbled with a purr for her, and he was more than content to lay with her like that, carding his claws through her damp hair. Her natural scent was stronger now with the previous days washed away, and he wanted to bury his nose in her hair and drink it down. He knew better than to jostle her, though, or press on her head beyond the gentle massaging he did with his fingertips.
Anna’s breathing became easier, although he didn’t think she slept. Laying with her like this brought all the stories, all the advice the elders had given about finding and taking a mate back to him. Frey hadn’t listened to them as well as he should have, then or now.
In this moment, though, he thought he understood.
Whatever this took, whatever Anna needed, Frey would give it. Whatever compromises had to be made, whatever modernization he needed, he would adapt. It would take effort and time and patience, but their bond,Anna,was worth it.
Being Anna’s mate was to be Anna’s partner. Her support. Not just her sword but her shield, her sustenance, her home. She didn’t just need the strength of his arm and wing but his heart and his compassion. She would test him, try him, and likely vex him again and again—but always would she be worth it.
Carefully, Frey drew her hands to his lips and kissed every fingertip.
“I understand now, my heartsong,” he murmured to her. “I know now what I must do to be a mate worthy of you.”
Her hand fumbled blindly in the dark, gracelessly finding and patting his mouth. “Shh,” she chided, “you’re great, Frey. You’re more worthy than I deserve.”
He wanted to hiss at her words but bit it back, knowing the sound would aggravate her head. “Don’t say such things.”
“It’s true,” she whispered back.
Her eyes remained shut tight, but Frey scented when fresh tears began to flow. A little sob burst past her lips, and he couldn’t stop himself from gathering her even closer. He made soothing, shushing noises as his hands ran up and down her back.
“Don’t cry, my Anna. Please,” he begged.
“I haven’t been fair to you. Everything has just been so much to deal with and I just—I did what I always do, and I hate that, I hate that I pushed you away and I’m sorry and—”
“Shh shh shh.” He placed the gentlest of kisses on her brow and wiped her tears with the blanket. “I asked much from you without understanding everything I asked for.”
“You’re being too nice,” she said, as if that was a bad thing. “You should be mad at me. I’m mad at me. And at you still, a little.” She pulled her hands from his grip to cover her face as the tears came harder. Her voice was cracked and muffled, but he still heard her sob, “I’m justtired.”
“I know,” he murmured, “I know you are. You should sleep.”
