Page 67 of Forged Flight

I tighten my arms around him. “Don’t.”

He pauses. “Doc?”

“Stay.”

His brow furrows. “I’m liable to crush you.”

I laugh softly, wrapping my arms tighter around his broad back. “It would be a wonderful way to die.”

A deep chuckle rumbles through his chest. “You’re ridiculous.”

He presses a soft kiss to my cheek, lingering there for a moment before pulling back. His expression shifts, worry crossing his face as his eyes search mine.

“Did you enjoy that?” he asks quietly.

I blink. “Lucan—”

“I mean it.” His thumb brushes gently along my cheek. “Was it too much? Did I… hurt you?”

I shake my head. “No.”

He studies me, still uncertain.

“It was… magical,” I whisper.

The tension slowly leaves his expression, replaced by soft amusement. A playful smirk curves his lips. “Magical?”

I nod, curling closer against him. “Magical.”

Chapter Eighteen: Lucan

I wake to warmth.

Not the warmth of the blankets or the dying embers in the forge downstairs, but the solid, familiar heat of Micah’s body pressed against mine. Somehow, I’ve ended up curled in front of him, his arm draped across my waist and his cheek resting between my shoulder blades.

I’m the little spoon.

The thought makes me smile.

Beside us, Maple is curled into a tiny ruby-red ball, her wings tucked neatly against her sides. Her tail is wrapped around one of my wrists, and every so often, she lets out a sleepy chirp.

I squeeze Micah’s arm where it rests across my belly.

He shifts, nuzzling his nose against my nape. “Morning,” he murmurs, his voice rough with sleep.

“Morning.”

Micah sighs. “I don’t wanna get up.”

I chuckle softly. “Then don’t.”

“I need to.” He gives a soft grunt. “Gotta open the clinic.”

I roll onto my back, careful not to disturb Maple. “Aye. But first… we should look at what we took from the king’s office.”

Micah perks up at that. “Right. The evidence.”

He scrubs his eyes with his knuckles before reaching for his glasses on the nightstand and quickly slipping them on.