“Stars,” Mariana hollered. “Must you poison our ears so profusely, Berk?”

With a wave of his hand, the door to the sitting room slammed closed. “Sixty-two years. You’d think she’d let me be by now.”

“She enjoys it too much,” I said, and a tightness twisted the organ in my chest. I drank some more and stared back at the crackling flames.

For some minutes, the only sound came from the fire, both of us lost to its lure.

“Who is she then?”

I didn’t startle. Didn’t so much as blink. I knew better than to give anything away under the watchful eye of an ex-commander. “Who?”

“Don’t play stupid. I already know you’re a fool.”

I chuckled. The stale sound died rapidly.

I tossed back the last of the water, wishing again for whiskey. The burn wouldn’t be enough to kill the thoughts he’d pulled to the surface. The memories I’d spent the previous night and today dodging and running from by spending every minute at the Keep.

It didn’t matter where I was. Gray eyes had chased me from sleep and during each waking hour.

I couldn’t forget them—couldn’t forget any part of her—and I knew I never would. The caramel hair, feather-soft over her bare shoulders and tits, tangled and damp between my fingers. The secretive smile that filled my chest with an elation I’d never felt before. The laughter constantly tripping the beat of my heart. The comforting weight of her in my arms while she dreamed.

The fucking scent of honey that had yet to leave the apartment or cottage, nor the taste of her—that sugar-laced venom.

It took every ounce of the brutal training I’d had to keep the roaring sorrow inside me from showing.

“No one,” I eventually murmured when I felt as if I could trust my voice. “We both know I’ll never venture down any road like that.” Hollow words, yet I’d said them with conviction. Until little over a week ago, I’d been sure of it, too. Now, the stars had made it more certain than the next sunrise.

Berk sat with that a moment, drumming his fingers over the armrest. “Sometimes we don’t willingly venture.” He lowered his voice and leaned over the arm of the chair to whisper, “It’s forced upon us, and we’re fucking dragged the entire way.”

I couldn’t help but snort.

He sat back with a wince, the door to the sitting room thrown open.

Mariana held a tray of tea, her brown eyes fixed on her mate. “I do hope you like that chair,” she said, setting the tray on the table between us. “You’re sleeping on it.”

“The truth hurts, sweets,” Berk sang after her, though his tone was weak.

“Uh-huh.” She pulled the door closed. “So will that back of yours in the morning.”