Her breathing hitched, and he pulled her closer, rolling his hips into her center and watching the way her eyes darkened in time with the heady sensation emanating near his heart.

“Then, while you’re safely tucked away, soaking in the tub you’re so longing for, I’ll track down each and every one of them and pluck their eyes from their sockets with the very daggers that state you are mine.”

She blinked up at him from under her hood, speechless for once. He dipped his head, unable to resist brushing his lips across hers.

It was the closest they’d come to kissing since Aleron, and his body screamed for more, desperate for the taste of her. To feel her tongue slide against his. But he swallowed it down, forcing himself to release her. Later. They’d have plenty of time for that after they were fed, washed, and alone.

“Thyoil?”

“Yeah…yeah, I’m ready,” she replied, her eyes still wider than usual.

He clicked his tongue, putting some much-needed space between them and tapping two fingers to her lips. She groaned and smacked his hand away, but repeated, “Ye mipoak thyoil.”

“Good girl,” he said, turning to make his way down the dock, fully expecting her to throw something at the back of his head. But after a heavy pause, in which he could only imagine she was contemplating just that, she stomped after him, throwing a colorful expletive instead.

He grinned. At least she’d said it in Thyabathi.

* * *

“I don’t get it,” she said as they walked, continuing to speak in their native tongue. It caused her to speak slower than usual, but overall, he was impressed with how quickly she was picking it back up after only a few weeks.

Not that he’d tell her that.

He glanced down, still half expecting her to smack him in some way, but her eyes were on the Magyki around them.

“You don’t get what?”

She swiveled her head side to side, staring at the workers they passed. “All these people raced to prepare for your arrogant ass’s arrival.”

Gods, he wanted to bite that fucking whip of a tongue. “What about it?”

She rolled her lips in and then popped them out, making a small smacking sound that drew his gaze to her full lips. “So then, why do I feel like everyone is avoiding us? No one seems very welcoming.”

“I’m not one for small talk. I’ve made it well-known.” He shrugged, reluctantly peeling his eyes away in time to catch a slight commotion ahead of them.

He slowed his gait, stretching an arm across Veralie’s chest and positioning his body in front of hers.

“So, basically, what you’re saying is you’re a—wait, what are you doing? What is it, Jaren?”

He barely heard her; his focus glued to the male shoving his way through the last line of street-goers and jogging toward the dock with purpose.

Jaren stopped dead in his tracks, refusing to blink, unsure if what he was seeing—who he was seeing—was actually there.