Chapter 34

Meetings are a boring but necessary part of being king. Usually, after every long meeting, I take a few minutes to walk around the village, check if everything is okay, and stretch my legs before the next one.

Things have changed ever since Violet arrived. She's in my head before, during, and after every meeting, and I find myself making my way to her again and again.

I step outside and find her adorning a small tree with pine cones hanging from pieces of hay, her nimble fingers weaving the decorations with care. She hums a song, lost in her task. I come up behind her, Eirik balanced on her hip.

This makes my heart happy; I don't know why. She's the nanny. That's the whole reason she's here. And yet, every time I see her with Eirik, something tugs inside my chest.

Eirik squeals at me when I approach. Violet turns and smiles, and it's an arrow through my chest all over again.

I don't know what's wrong with me. This little human has turned everything upside down. I pick up Eirik to distract myself. He gurgles cheerfully and reaches for a lock of my hair.

"Careful, little bear," I murmur, untangling his grip.

If there was any tension between us, she doesn't show. Violet chuckles. "Little bear. I like that. It's cute, just like him."

I arch an eyebrow at her. "Bears aren't cute. Have you ever seen one?"

She curls her nose at me, but then she smiles. "Not in real life, and I hope that never changes."

I hold a smile back as Violet raises a hand to adjust Eirik's onesie. My arm moves on its own. I capture her hand in mine and brush my nose against Violet's wrist. She startles at the contact but she doesn't pull back.

It's her smell. The feeling of her skin. The way her eyes glimmer when she looks at me. It's all this. Holding her arm, I brush my cheek across her wrist, marking her with my smell.

Whatever I'm feeling, I don't want anyone else getting close to her.

Eirik squirms in my arm. I let Violet's hand go so I can put him down. Eirik holds my finger and wobbles around us with unsteady legs.

"Look at him go." Violet grins with affection. "I bet he'll be toddling around on his own two feet any day now. Then I'll have to chase him across the village."

Pride swells in my chest at her words, at the clear affection in her voice for the child who is not her own. Something warm and unfamiliar blossoms behind my breastbone. We watch Eirik for a while. Finally, I clear my throat.

"Let's go inside. It grows cold."

Violet picks Eirik up and follows me back to the house. We stroll, side by side, down the dining hall toward the bedroom. The smell of dinner already wafts through the house.

I open the door to the bedroom. She strides to the crib and puts Eirik down. I close the door behind me, my gaze dropping to her backpack.

She still has all her stuff in there. Ready to go. As if she's waiting for a chance to leave.

I don't like that. It makes my heart hurt.

So, I stride to the dresser and yank the first, then the second drawer open. I pluck the tunics from the inside of one and shove them into the second.

"What are you doing?" she asks behind me.

"Put your things here," I reply without looking at her. "I'll take you to the tailor tomorrow. You need new clothes."

"Why?"

"Because I said so." I finish the drawer and, grinding my teeth together, I turn to look at her. She arches an eyebrow in doubt. I can relate. I also have no idea what I'm doing. Releasing a breath, I take one step closer to her. "Because I want you to feel like you're home." The words feel clumsy on my tongue, too revealing, but I force them out. "Here. With me."

Violet's eyes glimmer as she stares back at me. She taps a finger against her chin, her lips quirking. "What do you mean? You ran away yesterday."

I shake my head. "You drive me mad. I don't know what to do when I'm next to you. I don't know how to act."

She licks the corner of her mouth. My blood sings with hunger for this woman.

"So, I'm not imagining it," she says, her eyes wide. "You kissed me because you wanted to?"

I scoff. There's so much I could tell her—how I can't stop thinking of her, how I dream of her lips, how I've been marking her with my smell—but I have no clue how she's going to receive it.

I have no clue about what's happening to me. All I know is that I want this woman. Human or not. I want her lips on mine and her hair in my hands.

"Violet," I breathe out, shaking my head in disbelief. "Violet."

She tilts her head, and it's so beautiful and loving and everything together that I can't take another second. I step closer, drawn to her like a moth to a flame. And at this moment, I don't care if I burn.

Realization strikes me like a bolt of lightning—ancestors help me, I love this small, brave, kind human woman. The intensity of it steals my breath. She has all of me.

She frowns. I don't know what face I'm doing, but it's confusing her. "What? Are you regretting it again?"

A laugh escapes me. "No. No, Spitfire. I regret nothing."

I close the remaining distance and press my mouth to hers. She makes a small, startled sound, but then she kisses me back, winding her arms around my neck. Like yesterday, I pick her up to diminish our height difference, and she flings her legs around my torso.

This. Her body against mine, her hot mouth, her hands grabbing onto my hair. This feels right.

No matter how wrong it might be.