Page 168 of Dare

“Your exhales last longer whenever you’re daydreaming.”

She traced my jaw, then jutted her chin toward the surrounded drapes. “Actually, I wanted to thank you for the curtains.”

I had found sheer fabric in the textile cellar, the material functioning well for our bed. The mesh was light and airy, screening insects from us at night. Practical but attractive. For this anniversary, I’d thought she would like them and had installed the curtains while she slept this morning.

My mouth crooked. “Never thank me.”

Flare owned me nothing, whereas I would indulge her for as long as I drew oxygen. She knew this but refused to listen.

Case in point, she nipped my lower lip. “That will only make me show gratitude more enthusiastically.”

I quirked a brow. “Is that so?”

“Mmm-hmm.” Her fingers coasted down my navel, the descent causing my muscles to jump, my spent cock twitching with just as much subtlety. “Rules are meant to be broken.”

My voice turned to gravel. “And how would you break mine?”

Leaning up, she swept her lips over mine. “I already have.”

That, she had. For this reason, I kept my little beast in bed for the next three hours, fucking us into exhaustion. After the fifth orgasm, I ceased only because my cock would fall off if I didn’t calm the bloody hell down.

However, Flare had other ideas. She sprawled on top of me, her legs fencing my hips. “What next?”

With a half-chuckle, half-groan, I sampled her neck while she brushed through my mane. “Patience,” I murmured, ravenous against her throat. “Remember. We still have time.”

All at once, Flare gasped. She went still and repeated to herself, “Time.”

Leaning back, I furrowed my brow while she directed her gaze toward the marks we’d scratched onto the opposite wall. A makeshift calendar tracked the days, weeks, and months. It was one of her drawings, similar to the sketches she composed in the sand.

Realization set her irises aflame. Her features veered back to me. “I found the key.”

50

Flare

We emerged from the cave tunnel and onto the northwest cove, an area we journeyed to occasionally for gathering firewood. The aquamarine sea glittered, the low tide trailing its fingers over the frothy sand. Threading my fingers with Jeryn’s, I dragged him to the shore, then hunched to the ground.

My prince wore only his pants, the material buffeting his long limbs as he squatted beside me. The breeze winnowed against my linen shorts and smocked camisole while I raced my fingers through the sand. Having practiced this art piece, it didn’t take long to create.

Twelve months. Three hundred and sixty-five days. One year ago today, we washed ashore. Since then, a thousand hopes, a thousand emotions, and a thousand experiences. Those, and a single desire. The man I’d wanted nothing to do with became the man I wanted to share everything with.

We had learned each other’s fears and wishes. I knew what provoked him, and he knew what comforted me. We had learned one another’s favorites—colors and food and fauna. I knew his passions, as he knew mine.

And finally, I understood The Phantom Wild’s reason for calling me.

Kneeling before the sea, I sketched a vial pendant. Inside the pendant, I added intertwining symbols, including a fur cloak, his scalpel knife, the siren shark that haunted him, and the rainforest flora he’d turned into medicines.

Finished, I gestured toward the artwork with a flourish. “Happy anniversary.” Swallowing, I said, “Now your vial is mended.”

Jeryn blinked at the drawing. For a while, he didn’t respond, staring as though unsure what to do with this gesture.

I hesitated, my heart crumbling to powder. Did he not like it?

But then his chest hitched, and I realized. Other than his necklace, sentimental gestures had been scarce in his life. He didn’t know how to process his gratitude.

Shaking his head, Jeryn muttered something. Then he grabbed my face and crushed his mouth to mine. I smiled into his lips, gasping as he inched back and murmured, “Thank you.”

My soul flapped its wings. Giving him another quick kiss, I pulled back and pointed. “This is my gift to you. But it’s also the key.”

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