Page 43 of Returned to the Vissigroth
"Zyn," he laughed.
This time, when I woke up, despite the dream dissolving into hundreds of untraceable tendrils, a feeling of happiness lingered. Happiness wasn't the right word. I felt exhilarated, I felt alive. Ifelt!
The next thing I noticed was warmth.
Not the dappled sun peeking through the canopy, or the dying embers of our fire, but a steady, living warmth wrapped around me. A body. Strong, unmoving, and vast. My cheek rested against a broad chest that rose and fell in the most peaceful rhythm I’d ever known.
Mallack.
I stiffened slightly, half-expecting him to shift away or break the spell. But his arm only tightened subtly around my waist, anchoring me closer. I couldn’t see his face, my vision was full of aqua skin and muscles—but I could feel him.
Something deep inside me sighed with delight at being cocooned like this. I probably shouldn’t have felt this way. I probably should have been outraged. He was still a stranger, even though he claimed and, by all accounts of the people around us, was mymate. Yet, outrage was the furthest emotion on my mind. I didn’t know why. But I felt it all the same, this overwhelming sense of security, as if the world could fall to pieces and this moment would still hold.
I closed my eyes for another heartbeat. A rumble going through his chest announced his words before he spoke them, “You’re awake.”
I smiled against his chest, "So are you."
“I’ve been awake,” he replied, voice gravel-deep from sleep. “I was afraid to move. This...” his hand brushed lightly against my spine, not possessive, just steady, "thishas always been my favorite part of the day. Waking up with you in my arms.”
I felt my cheeks heat instantly from the huskiness in his tone.
“I can see why,” I murmured, unable to stop the smile that crept onto my lips.
His chest vibrated with a low hum of amusement, but he didn’t move away. If anything, his grip on me shifted; his large hand slid from the small of my back to settle against my hip. The pressure was light. But it still ignited a storm of emotions and sensations in me.
Goosebumps swept down my arms in a cascade, even though I wasn’t cold. Quite the opposite. His palm rested at the curve of my waist like it belonged there, like it had always belonged there. As if he were reacquainting himself with old territory that had waited for him in silence.
I tried not to react, but my breath hitched. My thighs pressed together instinctively, and that strange yearning—the one I’d felt in flickers before—rushed up from deep inside me. He must havefelt the shift, the tension thrumming under my skin, because his fingers tightened just slightly, anchoring me as if he sensed I might fly apart from the inside out.
“I used to wake up like this every morning,” he said lowly, the roughness in his voice laced with something new, something warmer. “Your hair in my face. Your body pressed to mine. It never stopped making me ache.”
A shiver rippled through me. A shiver paired with a want that was primal and instinctive. One that felt like it belonged to someone else—a past version of me, long buried, but slowly waking up alongside my body. I opened my mouth, but I didn’t know what I was going to say. I only knew I didn’t want to move. Didn’t want his hand to stop.
I most definitely didn't want to hear Myccael's voice calling from outside the tent. “Hope you’re decent.”
I jerked, a fresh blush rushed to my cheeks just as the flap rustled open and our son stepped in, arms crossed and eyebrows raised. His gaze swept the empty bed, then landed squarely on the two of us tangled on the ground.
“Looks comfy,” he said dryly.
My face went up in flames.
Mallack groaned behind me and muttered, “Snyg's teeth.”
“Day’s not getting any younger, old male,” Myccael added, barely hiding his grin, “and neither are you.”
Mallack growled something that sounded like a curse, but he didn’t bother moving his arm from around me. His only concession was to rest his forehead against the back of my head with a sigh.
Then Myccael’s gaze softened as it shifted to me. “Breakfast will be here soon,” his voice was light, almost teasing. “Better get some distance between you two.”
I didn’t know whether to crawl under the bedroll or bury my face in Mallack’s chest again. So I ended up doing both.
The flap hadn't even finished settling when I heard more voices outside. Footsteps. Then the distinct clatter of trays and dishes. Oh ney.
My fingers fisted the blanket. I didn’t have time to move, to hide, to even think of something clever or casual. A stream of servants entered the tent like a procession, quietly and efficiently. I was devastatingly aware of the fact that there was abed, and then there was… us. On theground. I felt the servant's eyes travel over us; thankfully, they were well enough trained not to comment.
The way I was still curled into Mallack’s side could not be mistaken for anything innocent. I pulled more furs over my head, wishing with every cell in my body that the earth would open beneath me and swallow me whole. When that didn’t happen, I did the next best thing: I became completely, utterly still. A lump of mortification under a blanket. A ghost. A fossil. Gone.
Mallack’s chest shook under me. The bastard was laughing. This situation amused him. I ground my teeth, not in anger, but because… a giggle was about to escape me, too. Here we were, grown-ups, mated, and I felt like a teenager being caught by her parents. Or so I assumed.
