Page 119 of Lana Pecherczyk
His hurricane of emotion slammed into her again, stealing her breath. But despite the angst she sensed, he didn’t hide a single thing. He kept his promise to keep the block down.
“My name was Manfri. I hated it.”
“I love it.”
“Then remember it. Because I won’t stop for anything else.”
“Are you okay?” she whispered, touching his jaw. “With what I did?”
“I don’t know yet,” he admitted. “But I need you for this, Blake. I just hope you’re not the one who regrets it.”
“Manfri.”
“Already?”
The look of honest confusion on his face, the disappointment, his messed-up hair, and pouty, full lips—it made her fall in love. “I’m just testing.”
“You little—” His growl cut off. His mouth had better uses than words.
Chapter
Thirty-Seven
The caravan still rocked gently. Wooden joints still creaked in the midnight rhythm. Hooves still clip-clopped. Beads clacked.
Blake woke up from sleep, wrapped in River’s protective arms. His fingers moved lazily, drawing gentle patterns across her shoulders in the dark. She had been dreaming of something she couldn’t remember, but his musky pine scent grounded her in reality. What kept her anchored most was the rise and fall of his emotions stirring alongside her own, no longer hidden. When they flurried like scattered snow, she knew he sensed her wakefulness.
“I fell asleep,” she murmured apologetically, rubbing her eyes.
“You did.” His deep voice held a note of humor, though darker currents churned beneath. He tightened his embrace.
Their bond hummed with raw intensity. He’d opened himself to her completely, a choice that felt like their first real step toward forever. That notion felt good. Safe. Blissful. Smiling, she slid her hand over his abdomen, watching her blue mating marks shimmer against his skin.
“Did you sleep?” she asked.
“I felt the spell on the door break.” His jaw tightened against her temple.
“That’s good, right?” Too awake now to temper her excitement, she grinned. “That’s exactly what we want … right?”
His nod came slowly and unconvincingly. The shadows beneath his eyes deepened as he stared at some invisible point beyond the caravan walls.
“Then why aren’t you happy?”
“It’s not safe now.” He pulled her closer. “Why are you so full of joy?”
She blinked. “What do you mean?”
“Even when you’re asleep, your happiness vibrates into me.” He brushed back an errant lock of her hair when she looked up at him, his throat working with unspoken words. “How can you possibly feel one thing that much that it remains while you’re unconscious?”
She pressed her palm over his thundering heart. “Because you make me happy.”
“Not that happy,” he noted dryly. “You fell asleep after one orgasm.”
She tried to hide her embarrassment by saying, “Sex isn’t everything.”
“You’re breaking my heart.”
“Har har,” she said, lifting to kiss him. “I’m happy because you trusted me more than anyone else ever has. Coming down from that high might take a while.”
