In a flash, he’d slid off his pants and boxers, and I took off my bra. From the pocket of his pants, he pulled a condom out, and he hurriedly tore it open and slipped it on. He kissed me again, and his hand went down, looping his fingers through my panties to help me slide them down.

Finally, wonderfully, he eased himself inside me, and I moaned in relief. Quickly, he found a rhythm, and I dug my fingers into his back as he kissed my neck. We moved together until I felt the heat rising inside me. I bit my lip to keep quiet, and Pan moaned in my ear before covering me in kisses.

He collapsed on his back beside me and pulled me into his arms, so I rested my head on his chest. He kissed the top of my head and rubbed my back.

“So,” he said. “I know we talked about our relationship status before, but a lot of things have changed.”

I laughed. “That’s putting it mildly.”

“And I know how you’re feeling.” He paused, taking a deep breath. “But I would like it if you were my girlfriend.”

I looked up at him. “I think I would like that too.”

He kissed me on the lips. Our hands were intertwined—my right and his left—and with my other hand, I absently ran my fingers through his hair.

“Jem-Kruk told me about this álfar word once,” I said.

“What was it?”

“Veloma means the one you choose to be with,” I said.

“Veloma,” he repeated. “That has a nice ring to it.”

“It does,” I agreed. “But I’m very happy to be your girlfriend.”

“And my veloma,” he said, and then I pushed myself up so I could kiss him again.

57

The Ten

“Come on. The view up there is amazing.” Pan smiled and extended his hand to me.

We’d been traveling from Louisiana for well over twenty-four hours, but even as exhausted as I was, I couldn’t say no to the excited look on his face. I let him take my hand and lead me to the upper deck of the ferry.

When we’d been here before—one of the last things I remembered before the Lost Month—it had been misty and cold. Today it was sunny and fairly warm, although the upper fifties did feel rather chilly after the oppressive heat of Fulaträsk.

“You can see everything from up there!” Pan sounded exuberant as he led me up the stairs, and I had no idea where his energy came from.

But he wasn’t wrong. From the top level of the ferry, we had stunning panoramic views of the dark waters of the Bay of Bothnia and the lush evergreen islands that populated it.

“Alai, it’s breathtaking,” I said in a hushed tone, and leaned against the metal railing that surrounded the boat.