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He covers his cheeks with a hand. His eyes close. “If you’re sure, all you have to say is Doliver Talon, I release you from your oath.”
“It’s that simple?”
“Words are simple, yet powerful. They are capable of destruction and murder when laced in malice. Even by human terms, the most binding statement in this language contains but three letters.”
“Three letters?”
His eyes open. “I do.”
Breath catches in my chest. “I suppose you’re completely right.”
Before I can open my mouth again and free him from the oath, he shakes his head. “For my sanity, could you wait until the night of the full moon, when your decision becomes official? Being near you is intoxicating. I fear giving myself an inch would end poorly.”
“How…so?”
The look in his eyes alone could melt steel. It is smoldering. When he speaks, his voice is strained. “I just don’t want to risk making you uncomfortable. You have given me hope. Your words are repainting the way I view myself each day. For the first time in decades I am entertaining the idea of being wanted without feeling used, the idea of being more than a joke.” He swipes a hand over his mouth, and I watch his throat bob. “I feel starved for you.” His gaze lowers. “Your attention. Your touch. Your love.” He takes a deep breath, freeing it slowly. “I could listen to the way your lips form that phrase for an eternity and never tire of hearing it.”
Oh. Wow. I may no longer be seated. There’s a good chance I’m floating ten feet off the ground.
“I will wait with my oath,” he says, the words bearing no small amount of finality. “For all the moments in my past where I did not, I will now.”
“You don’t have to do that to yourself.” My voice escapes in reedy tones. I fight desperately to clear my throat. “I’ve already told you I don’t hold anything you’ve done before me against you. I only care about what happens going forward.”
He smiles. “Compared to how much you are planning to sacrifice to be with me, taking this time to commit myself wholly to you is small. I love you, Brittny. I regret every time I attempted to find what I feel for you somewhere else, regardless of whether or not you think less of me for it. Even if nothing I’ve done alters my worth in your eyes, there are still too many moments I cannot get back.”
Chewing my lip, I run my fingers through my hair, messing up my bangs. “As long as you don’t pounce on me the moment you’re free, I suppose it’s okay if that’s what you want.”
His teeth flash. “No promises.”
Lifting my sandwich, I take a blushing bite. “Remember my experience with intimacy thus far has been limited…and I will be able to turn into a Yorkie at around the same time you’re released from your oath…so…”
“I adore your priorities.”
“I made a list of small dogs at work today. I want to try them all.”
“What an excellent use of company time.” His smile broadens, dimpling beneath shining brown eyes. “I’ll teach you what I can.”
“What are the limitations? Like, color. You make your fur match your skin. Does that mean I can do any color I want, or do I just have the options of my current hair or skin? And face shape. Poms have teddy bear, and fox, and baby doll. Can I control that? Also, I’m sure you know humans have bred so many breeds into the ground. Can I be historically accurate, and therefore able to breathe as a pug, or can I only do whatever currently exists?” I nearly inhale a spoonful of soup when I gasp. “Right. We were talking about houses. What’s your dream home look like? Should we start planning? Do I need to learn how to build a house, or can we post a request for an architect on the board and get help throughout the process? Will they be nice, you think? Or are we going to have to fight for our vision?”
Ollie’s mouth opens, then he wets his lips. Knitting his brows, he looks elsewhere and says, “You’re limited by your strength, so I personally have never succeeded in becoming a wolf. Color, face shape, period in history, as long as you are familiar enough, you can mold yourself into any canine that matches your abilities. It takes some practice, but when you find your favorites, changing forms is as simple as exhaling.” Looking upward, he murmurs, “Houses…”
I wince. “Sorry. I’m all over the place.”
His head shakes, absently. “I love enthusiastically communicating about a range of topics. I don’t think Willow will be okay with a change of schedule regarding movie night, but having a basement theater in our woodland cabin sits well with me. I’m sure someone will have an enchantment for cross-realm streaming.”
I blurt a laugh into my sandwich, giddy. “There’s an enchantment for that. Does Faerie have commercials? That’s a great tagline.”
“Faerie doesn’t have much in the way of traditional human entertainment.”
“Stunted technological growth due to the presence of magic?” I ask, surprising myself with the very Alana line. I guess her knowledge has worn off on me. More than that, though, I guess she really is going to stay on my heels.
I swallow my emotions as Ollie replies, “Not quite. Our technology is melded with spells for a purpose of function. The concept of television or video games or social apps isn’t as in demand.”
“Seriously?”
“If you didn’t need to worry about paying for the activities you simulate and the real world held all the magic you find in shows, why wouldn’t you explore the real thing?”
“Because last I checked it was unethical to throw birds at pigs.”
