Dagny skitters toward the edge of the clearing, her face pinched in fright. As she dives behind one of the welwig trunks, my gaze snaps toward the jovial voice that caused her to flee, a spike of anger heating my veins.

My irritation turns to horror at the sight of a massive Roark-shaped mass barreling down from the skies, and without thinking, I grab Fenryr and roll, moving out of the way just before Roark slams into the ice, digging a horse-sized crater right where my head was.

My shock turns to rage as I turn my attention to Cyprien, floating weightlessly to the ground with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I shout. “What would possess you to just fucking drop him?”

Cyprien shrugs, his smile threatening to split his face. “He was heavy.”

Lir touches down beside his counterpart, his mouth pressed into a thin white line. “He’s lying. Roark said something to piss him off and his grip ‘slipped,’” Lir says, using air quotes around the last word.

Cyprien waves him off, turning his head in a slow arc as he searches the clearing. “The details don’t matter. Where’s my bunny?”

“Your wha—OOMPF!” The air is pushed from my lungs in a violent puff as Cyprien’s foot presses against my sternum, my ribs cracking beneath his full weight as he uses my chest as a springboard. I roll onto my side as the pain radiates, my vision tunneling, focusing on the angelic face peeking out from the tree trunk, at the twin silver orbs shining with distrust.

She blinks, and the apprehension on her face is wiped away, replaced with a smile born of moonlight, of euphoria. She steps out from the tree, her arms spread wide as she welcomes her mate.

Cyprien collides with her, knocking her backward off her feet and sailing through the open air. In a flash, Cyprien is wrapped around her, twisting sideways to protect her from the inevitable crash. As soon as they make impact, Cyprien rolls to his back, clutching the little one to his chest so tight, I’m fearful he might break her.

He pushes his face into her neck, his eyes rolling to the back of his skull as relief floods the bond, filling all of our veins. Soft sobs wrack his chest as he runs a shaking hand up her spine, feeling her as if for the very first time—as if he can’t quite believe she’s real.

A low whine echoes in Lir’s chest, and in the next moment, he’s there, thick, hot tears streaming down his face as he curls over Dagny and Cyprien. It’s such a profound sensation of solace that it warms my chest and fills the space where my heart should be.