47. Hector

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

HECTOR

K illian was so stoic, so serious, that all I could do was stare up at him. His intentions were like an iron wall, impossible to move, there and unassailable.

And then, I started to smile.

"I know," I whispered. I could feel everyone in the smithy looking at us, eyes drawn by the silvery perfection of their chief, but I kept my eyes trained on his. "Killian, I know. I love you too."

His brow furrowed in confusion. His lips fell a bit slack.

All right, I was still too Urial to stand there in the middle of the smithy and talk openly about my feelings while everyone watched.

When I bit my lip and glanced at Abram, he jerked his chin at the door. "See you tomorrow, lad."

I grabbed Killian's wrist and pulled him into the alley out back.

As soon as we were alone, Killian came up short. The steadiness of his stop was enough to draw me around, and he caught my hip as my momentum made me clumsy.

"What do you mean?"

I scowled. "What do you mean, what do I mean?"

"How did you . . . know?"

I bit the edges of my tongue, then stepped closer. His body was warm against my front, and I looped my arms around his hips. "Because I—well... I never meant to presume. It's—well, isn't it obvious? You've done so much for me, been so careful, so generous. The way you smile sometimes, when we're alone—you don't smile like that anywhere else. I wasn't counting on anything romantic or any—any promises, but on every metric by which I measure what love is..." Nervous, I swallowed, but when I tightened my arms around his hips, I felt stronger for it. "Killian, you excel. You've cared for me better than I knew I could be cared for, given me things I never would've dreamed to ask. There is nothing more you must do to prove yourself or your feelings. They are apparent in every touch, every glance, every smile. Every concession you make because I'm stubborn and I'd like to give you as much as you've given me. I'm glad that you said it, but if you hadn't? It's no longer possible for me to doubt you."

He stared at me, stunned and red cheeked. A thrill rushed through me at having made the Crane so dizzy.

But this had cost him something—rearranging his whole world was a show of feeling I hadn't expected.

I wanted to give him something in return.

The ring sat heavy in my pocket, and I pulled it out, offering it between us.

"I, ah, made this for you." I uncurled my fingers to reveal the delicate silver ring in my hand. It wouldn't have suited my fingers at all, but Killian had nice hands with long, graceful fingers. They were what I'd thought of with every curl of metal. "It doesn't have to mean anything. I just wanted you to have a piece of me when we're apart. Or, well, I thought it would be nice, is all. After all, you gave me a bird. A trinket's not so much."

Once I slipped the ring on him, Killian stared at the back of his hand, his fingers spread, that silver band a perfect fit. I liked it there, imagined it could protect him from the worst of what he faced.

A muscle in his jaw twitched before he looked at me again.

"And if it meant something, it'd mean that I'm yours?" he asked.

Heat flooded my face. "Well... traditionally, but I'm not looking for something so concrete. I just want you to have?—"

Killian cut me off with a steady palm against the side of my neck. His thumb brushed my lips, and I fell silent.

"Let it mean something." His voice was low and serious, infused with feeling that stole my breath and warmed my skin.

I pushed in to claim his lips, parted them beneath my tongue. His fingers slid into my hair and he pulled me in.

When we had to catch our breaths, his fingers were still fisted in my hair, my hands twisted in his shirt. Gods, he was right—Nemeda had better clothes. The way his shirt fell open beneath his neck, revealing golden skin and the mark of a lighter scar across his tempting chest, was too perfect. Whining, I dragged my hands down and let the shirt spread wider.

His lips were only a hair's breadth from mine when he whispered, "And you're mine."

I didn't know if that was a question or a proclamation, but it didn't matter. Desperately, I nodded and leaned in. Another kiss. Another taste of my Killian.

His hands were everywhere, sliding up and down my sides, tugging at cloth that I wished he would tear off me.

But there wasn't a chance we could have each other right there on the street. Even in an alley, it was too exposed.

I could hardly think with his lips on me, but I knew if I could clear my head for one second, we could both get what we wanted.

The door—if we didn't go all the way back into the smithy, we could take the stairs right up to the storeroom. Over the sound of hammers below, no one would hear us.

I grabbed Killian's hand and pulled. "Come on."

We stumbled our way up the stairs. Or, well, I stumbled. Killian was surer footed than that, but he gripped me by the hips and pushed me on.

Up in the storeroom, I spun into his arms, and he walked me back until my shoulders hit the wall. Alone, in the heat above the smithy, Killian slipped his clever hands beneath my clothes and shed them. I tugged his, and they were so marvelously easy to remove.

Naked and needy, I turned to face the wall, my hands braced against the rough wood.

"Hector—" Killian's voice was rough with need, raspy with concern.

I glanced back at him. "Fuck my thighs," I begged, forcing my legs together tight. We had no supplies, no comfort, but we had our own bodies, and gods knew those could be pleasurable enough.

Killian growled, crowding into the space behind me. Before I even felt the blunt head of his cock nudging between my legs, he reached around and pulled my dick. I muffled a whine against my arm and pushed up on my toes, arching my back to offer myself to him.

The way his cock pressed into my perineum, slid against my sensitive balls, had me whining and whimpering as if he fucked me for real. I couldn't wait for that—to have him inside me, knowing he loved me.

Knowing he finally accepted that he did, and I didn't have to fret.

His hand was quick and efficient, striping along my shaft as a quick pace, until I was muffling my moans against his neck. He must've felt me shake, go stiff in his arms, because then his strokes were shorter. Tighter.

He focused near the head as I squeezed my eyes shut and came apart in his arms. Less than a minute later, I felt the sticky mess of his come between my thighs, smelled the familiar bitterness of him.

Together, we sank to the floor. Laughing and breathless, we knelt on there. Killian wrapped his arms around me tight. The way his nose buried in my hair and his breath tickled my neck lit my skin up, tingling all the way down my chest.

I turned to catch his lips, kissing between panted breaths.

"I love you," I whispered into them.

And as I stared up into his beautiful eyes, I watched his expression soften, a kind of peace settling over him that I wanted to keep forever.

"Love you too, Crane Owl."

Behind my bit lip, I whined, high and tight. "Take me home," I rasped. If I got nothing else done the whole night, fine, but I'd have him, now that we stood before each other without masks.

He nodded, and when he nuzzled my shoulder, I felt the graze of his teeth across my skin. It was as much a "yes" as I'd ever gotten, and I grinned in the shadows of the storeroom.