Veda
Tyboll's new rule works. Less talking and more sex. This is one demand I am incapable of dismissing. We are stretched out on the bed with me lying on top of him. His fingers run up and down my back while he breathes into the hair against my neck. Where he bit me is sore, but I wouldn't dream of complaining. It feels right. Being in my mate's arms is right. I whisper a silent thank you to the Goddess.
Tyboll answers. "You're welcome."
I roll my eyes, but don't bother correcting him. I'm actually thankful to him, too.
"Come on, woman, we're taking a bath." He lifts me as he stands. I'm cradled in his arms and feel incredibly safe. And loved.