Page 72 of Sunsplitter

“Please.”

“I was saving it for something fun!” She threw up her hands. “A nice vacation. Or something kinky. But I guess we’re doing this, instead. I’m going on the aedari hunt with you.”

He crossed the room, reaching for her face with both hands. “This is no mere hunt, Fionamara. Aedari are ferocious. Deadly.”

“I’m objectively a better fighter than you,” she returned flatly.

He hesitated. A meek, “That… feels unfair…”

“Who saved you when Tyvo had you on the ground?” Fi clawed her fingers into his jacket, pulling him closer. “Who put the sword through Verne’s chest?”

He flashed a fang. Grumbled.

“Say it Antlers. Out loud.”

“You did.” His tone was hushed, his thumb on her cheek in a slow, reverent stroke. “You beautiful, vicious woman. You did.”

“And you honestly think you’re going on an immortal hunt without me?”

Fi had never bested an immortal in single combat. Neither had Antal, in her time with him. But they’d managed it together.

He studied her with bright eyes. Void, when he looked at her like that, she could almost believe she was all he’d ever need. That everything they’d fought for wasn’t on the line. Again.

“I can’t lose you,” he whispered.

“And you think I could lose you?” She wound a hand behind his neck, slipping fingers through his hair. “Would you be happier with me at your side?”

“Yes.” He didn’t hesitate. “Of course, yes. But—”

Fi crashed her lips against that dumb, selfless mouth of his.

She claimed him for herself. Claimed their burdens as something to share, not whatever bullshit he was about to spin. Antal growled at the assault. Then he sank into her, claws tightening on her cheeks, pulling her into him as her tongue traced his fangs.

Hers. He washers, and she’d not give him up without a fight.

Fi pulled back, fingers knotted in his hair. “We’ve always been stronger together. I’ll protect you. And you’ll protect me. We’ll keep this Plane safe from your wicked aedari.”

His eyes were embers. Their breaths, tangled as his nose brushed hers.

“Our home,” he said.

“Our home,” she agreed.

He kissed her again, fiercer in the press of his lips. More desperate, in the rough slick of his tongue into her mouth, a low and aching sound in his throat. They hadn’t touched like this since their trip to the Twilit Plane. It felt like reconciliation.

Like the gulp of air Fi needed.

“Are you hungry, daeyari?” she asked in his native tongue.

“For you?” His exhale fell hot against her mouth. “I’m always starving.”

Was he? Fi dragged a hand down his chest, his stomach, scraping the snug fabric of his trousers. She pressed a palm to his groin—already hard.

Of course yelling at him made him hard. Simple beast.

Antal pushed into her grip, a groan as she stroked him through fabric. Here was a balm to some of her doubts, the reassurance of how much he wanted her. The reassurance of how much she wantedhim, her pulse quickening at the thought of claws on bare skin, of every honed muscle put to the purpose of her.

His tail coiled around her calf. Fi still had no tail to reciprocate.