Chapter 23: Mine

Bronwyn's POV

I did not let him finish his supper.

I took him by the front of his coat in the middle of the feast.

I walked him out of his own hall while two hundred people thumped the tables behind us.

At the top of the stair he caught my wrist.

"Bronwyn. The terms."

"They're all broken."

"I never threw them back at you."

"You said you would."

"I've been saving it." His mouth lifted at one corner. "Separate rooms."

"Broken in the storm."

"No touching in private."

"Broken in the infirmary."

"Neither asks the other's past."

"Broken in your study, on the floor, with a wooden horse."

I kicked the door shut behind us.

"Is that all of them?"

"That's all of them."

"Good," I said, and pushed him back against the wood.

I got his coat off him, and then his shirt.

He let me, with his hands loose at his sides and his eyes gone gold.

His left shoulder was bare under the lamp.

It had no mark on it.

"Whatever you're planning," he said, low, "I'm running out of patience for it."

"Hold still."

I put my hand on the back of his neck and pulled his head down.

I set my teeth to the place where the shoulder meets the throat.

I bit.

It was not gentle.

I tasted blood and salt.

He made a rough sound deep in his chest, and his whole body went tight against mine.

When I lifted my head the crescent was already darkening.

He touched it with two fingers and looked at them.

"Mine," I said.

"Yours," he said, and picked me up.

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