In silence, I finished pottering around in the flower bed before standing with a groan. I peeled off my gloves and set them on the wooden bench to the side. “I’m going to head back inside,” I announced as I stretched out my back and wiped down my pants. Cair’s imagination would be getting up to all sorts if he saw the state of my knees. Truth be told, so was mine, but I filed those musings away for exploration at a later date. Blow jobs in the garden: question mark. “I’ve been reading this really informative book about the mating habits of minotaurs, and I’d kinda like to finish it before dinner.”

Orian blinked, but otherwise didn’t comment on my choice of reading material. For the best, really. His eyes did drop to my neck, however, where I knew a livid bruise in the shape of Cair’s fangs had formed, but again, he just clenched his jaw and ignored it.

I barely resisted the urge to draw my head into my shirt like a turtle.

“I shall escort you, if you will permit it?” he said. Whatever got me out from under his silent scrutiny, I was totally amenable.

“Sure!” I chirped before gathering my tools and striding out of the garden.

Orian followed two steps behind.

* * *

Curled up in the armchair in my nook, with a blanket over my legs and a book in my hand, I could fully unwind and stress over nothing except the words on the page. It was my favorite part of the day, except any time I spent with Cair. Nothing would ever beat my mate’s company, especially when he’d sit with me here, bundle me into his arms, and let me perch on his lap while I read. He said it relaxed him, watching me concentrate, committing every line and freckle on my face to memory and basking in my scent and heartbeat. I never argued. Mostly because I often found solace in the exact same thing.