Page 33 of Mated to the Mad Marquess

Served him right, leaving her here under guard.

Her mate’s other half cast a dark shade that wandered to and fro on the other side of the door, but Solis remained unintrusive. If she was being honest, she wanted to be intruded upon. She wanted to be near her mate for as long as she could. She’d welcome the company of his shadow form.

The goodbye would be upon them soon enough, but it wasn’t tonight. Why did either of them need to be alone now?

Out of that pacing darkness, under the crack in the door, a black moth crawled up the frame. Hrafn sighed her relief. She wouldn’t have to be alone after all.

The moth grew into an inky cloud before transforming into Ezra’s usual hawk-like form. He glided to the chair opposite the bed and perched on the back of it.

Why did you eat his face?Ezra asked.

Hrafn blinked at him, crossing to him tentatively. The oversized shirt billowed around her. “I beg your pardon?”

Your mouth on your mate’s mouth.Were you hungry?

“Oh! No. It’s called a kiss. It’s . . . an expression of great affection.” She’d met Ezra during the war. He hadn’t had a chance to see Hrafn smile much in their time together since then. He’d certainly never seen her kiss anyone. She’d been too chained to duty to seek out lovers in the way she had before, when she was younger and could afford to be reckless.

Malcolm was the perfect partner to finally break her fast on. Attentive and imaginative. Tender when it called for it. Rough when she wanted that. Her toes curled against the rug just thinking about the bliss he’d inspired.

Ezra’s head twisted sharply to the side, aiming one inky eye at her.You don’t feel affection for me?

Recognizing the hurt in his voice, Hrafn contained the urge to laugh. “Of course I feel affection for you.” Her voice wobbled with amusement. “You’ve become dear to me, Ezra.”

You’ve never once tried to eat my face. I would remember.

Twisting up her mouth,Hrafn schooled her expression. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” She leaned forward and brushed her lips gently across his beak. He smelled acrid.

Ezra’s chest puffed out, feathers ruffling. He turned his head side to side contemplatively.

“Is that better?” she asked, straightening to her full height.

I don’t know. Are kisses always so boring?

Hrafn pushed him off his perch. He took flight with a squawk, swooping once around the room before landing again on the back of the chair.

“Damn you,” she chuckled. “But thank you. Your silly questions are making me feel better.”

Are you sick?

“Just sad.” She rubbed at the space above her heart. “It’s like a sickness in my feelings.”

He snorted at her.I know what sadness is. I don’t like it when you’re sad.

“Aw. That’s nice, Ezra.”

Head bobbing, he paced side to side on the back of the chair, talons clicking against the wood.I don’t like it because I can feel it in the piece of soul you gave me. It’s unpleasant.

She frowned at him. “That’s less nice, Ezra.”

His feathers ruffled. He studied her again in that bird-like way of his, one eye at a time, head twisting side to side.Would you like me to sleep on the bed with you tonight?

The offer warmed her. Hrafn truly was the most violent sleeper. The link of their souls enjoyed being close, but not even that comfort was worth her restless thrashing and kicking. That he would dare it now just to soothe her was a kindness she wouldn’t soon forget.

“No,” she said softly. “But thank you, my friend. Good night.”

Hrafn climbed back into bed, aware of aches in intimate places. The pleasant throb brought to mind the bed sport that had caused them—bed sport and table sport and floor sport and stairs sport . . . A new, different ache made itself known, and her heart squeezed.

“Careful now, Hrafn,” she scolded herself. Crossing her arms over her chest, she guarded the part of her that had the most to lose.

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