Page 107 of Gunnar

I’m wrapped around something warm. Solid. Alive.

The memory of last night hits all at once, and that little spot on the back of my neck tingles.

He did that.

He said it’s his claiming mark, and it would always be there, to show other shifters I’m his.

It seems incredible, but it feels right—like it’s what I wanted all along.

His arm tightens instinctively, pulling me closer. My face presses into his chest and I breathe him in—that exciting woodsmoke, clean-skin scent of his.

I give a soft sigh.

We must have slept like this all night.

I haven’t slept like this in years—no restless waking, no tension sitting under my skin. Just… this.

Warmth. Weight. Him.

My eyes drift closed again, my body already sinking back toward sleep⁠—

Bang.

A knock on the door. My eyes fly open.

Gunnar’s chest expands under my cheek. He’s awake now, too.

“Yeah?” he calls, voice rough with sleep.

The door cracks open and Torin’s head appears.

When he sees me, he does a double take. “Oh—good morning,” he says. “Didn’t realize you were… busy.” A beat. “Sorry. Problem.”

Gunnar’s body tenses. “What is it?” he demands.

“Orson’s gone and sacrificed himself to the rival clan.” Torin rolls his eyes. “Guess he thought it was the best idea.”

“What?”

Torin takes a breath. “He called. Said they’re ready to broker peace with you. But he sounded… off.”

“Off how?”

Torin frowns. “I don’t know. Like he was reading from a script.”

“Fuck.” Gunnar’s voice drops.

He disentangles himself from me and sits up, running a hand over his face.

“We’d better go,” he says.

Torin nods. “Right.”

He withdraws, pulling the door shut behind him.

I push myself upright, clutching the blanket around me. “What does this mean?”

Gunnar lets out a rough breath.