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“You used to scare me, Draven,” I whispered, skimming my fingers over the back of his neck. He was quiet for a moment. “I know. But I was never your prison. Never your captor. All I've ever wanted was to be your protector. Your sanctuary.” My heart flipped over in my chest. Draven reached out a hand and caressed my hair. “I saw you, and I wanted to consume you. Like a fire that would only burn for me.”

“It was Draven. He’d come up behind me. I jumped for a second time that morning, unable to help myself, then glared up at him. “How did you even do that?” “I have the ears of an exmoor and the tread of a fenrir,” he said with a smirk. “I’d say comparing yourself to wild animals was fitting, except the exmoor seems highly intelligent,” I muttered.”

“The flames flickered, casting dancing shadows along the wall, as the lute player jumped lightly down to the floor. He was an otherworldly vision. His hair a wild tangle of amber curls, his eyes a rich, liquid gold that sparkled like a fine ale. He was dressed for battle, clad in a coat of mail, silver links glistening overtop a thick, forest-green tunic. A quiver of red-tipped arrows hung at his back and he held a bow loosely in one hand. Rows of small knives were strapped across his chest. His sleeves had been rolled up to reveal strong forearms and sun-kissed skin. Snug trousers made of a sturdy green fabric emphasized the length of his lean legs, and were tucked into tall, black leather boots that came up to his knees. As he crossed the room towards us he moved with a lithe, feline grace I had only seen before in one other man.”

“We ride hard each day,” Draven barked. “We don’t dawdle or take breaks. We don’t stop to sightsee.” “I’d never dream of asking you to sightsee,” Vesper said with an impressively straight face. “A man like you? Never.” “Fine,” Drave said darkly. “Since you won’t leave when asked and as my only other option is to kill you, which I know she won’t like…” “Your sister?” “My companion,” Draven growled. “Since my companion would evidently prefer I didn’t kill you.” “That would be very nice,” I said, as calmly as I could, my heart beating fast. “Especially when he’s so talented with breakfast.” Were they really going to come to blows? I imagined exaggerating the story when I retold it to Galahad and saying two half-naked griddle-cake-scented, dazzlingly handsome men had been fighting over me.”