There were dark promises heaped between his words that were sealed with his actions. With nothing more than kissing and timid explorations he had a flush from her chest to her cheeks and her breathing heavy. Vhalla was driven crazy every time her fingers ran over the taut muscles in his shoulders. She was ready to scream his name when his fire glittered across her skin, crackling against her magic.

Eventually he rolled to his side, scooping her half onto him, his arms around her hips. Aldrik ran his hand along her back as she kissed him leisurely. Vhalla wasn’t sure when or why the heat faded, but when it did she found herself curled against his bare chest, her head tucked up by his neck and chin and his arm around her. The passion had settled into a warm honey, simmering at the pit of her stomach.

“Aldrik ...” Her whisper transformed into a yawn.

“Yes, my Vhalla?” he replied.

She felt his voice reverberate in both his neck and chest, and it made her shiver. “Nothing ... I just wanted to hear you say my name.”

“Vhalla, Vhalla, Vhalla,” he obliged, punctuating each with a kiss on her forehead.

“If morning never came, I think that would be all right ...” Her body was beginning to calm down, and the yawns becoming more frequent.

“I think it would be,” he agreed, pulling her closer.

“We will be together, from tomorrow?” She hadn’t dared ask, fearful of the answer. But if she had to brace herself for the worst, she wanted to know now. She would need the night to prepare herself.

“I wrote the list of soldiers myself.” Aldrik nodded. “We will not be apart ever again from tomorrow.”

“Isn’t that a nice dream?” She yawned again.

“My Vhalla, my lady, my love.” His words smoothed away the rough edges of her heart. “You make me do things far more dangerous than dream. You make me hope, you make me want.” He sighed a sound that was part bliss and part pain. “Mother, I have yet to discover if you will be my salvation or my demise.”

She twisted to look up at him, his dark eyes intense.

“I would never bring you harm.” She pressed her lips against his.

“Salvation, then.” He grinned against her mouth.

Morning threatened to burn through the canvas of the tent, and Vhalla felt as though the world began and ended with the man she was curled up against. His steady breathing and heartbeat were in perfect time with hers and created a melody that had a sweet timbre. Not quite awake, but no longer sleeping, Vhalla drifted through a blissful haze.

A haze that was abruptly interrupted by a broad-shouldered prince entering the tent. Vhalla sat quickly, as if doing so could hide the truth of spending the night in the crown prince’s arms. It was a contest to see whose face turned the reddest—hers or Baldair’s.