Chapter 19: Claimed

The night before the hunt, I took Rodrick up to the loft above the stable and bolted the trap door under us.

There was a mattress of old blankets under the rafters, and a skylight with a square of stars in it.

The snow ticked on the tin roof.

He stood in the middle of the floor with his coat still on.

"You're going to die tomorrow," he said.

"I'm going to win."

"You can't know that."

"No." I unbuckled his belt. "But I know where I'll be tonight."

"Tegan."

"You said you'd bet your life on me. I heard you. You said it to a stranger, and you never said it to my face."

His eyes closed.

"Who told you that?"

"The old spinner, outside the hall. He said you bled on his floor."

I pushed the coat off his shoulders.

It hit the boards, and I pulled his shirt over his head and ran my mouth across the scar on his chest.

He made a low sound.

"I want your mark," I said. "Tonight, before the ridge. I want every wolf up there to smell it on me before they smell my fear."

"A mark is for always."

"I know what it's for."

"You're sure."

"Rodrick. I've been sure since the thyme."

He took my face in both hands and kissed me so deeply I thought my wolf would climb out through my throat.

We went down onto the blankets together.

He undressed me slowly, and for once he was the one who didn't hurry.

I lay on my back with the stars over me and let his mouth learn me.

He kissed my collarbone, the ridge of each rib, the soft place under my navel.

When he settled between my thighs, I looked down and saw his dark head there, and his gold eyes lifted to mine.

"Tell me what you like," he said.

"Everything you do."

"Be specific."

"Slower."

He went slower.

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