Page 77

The star projection system is the part I care about most. I want the entire northern sky visible from the main seating, all of it calibrated for Wintermoon’s latitude. Cassiopeia has to sit centered above the primary viewing chair. Years ago, when Aya didn’t know I was listening, she said it was her favorite constellation. I add the coordinates and draw its W over the seat.

I get lost in the work and fill the notepad with calculations. I sketch sight lines and circle problems in Amari’s layout that I’ll need to discuss with him. Even with my nose in the plans, I keep track of her. Aya’s heartbeat is slow and steady upstairs, her breathing deep. My dragon is scenting her for any change that would mean she’s carrying our hatchling-pup. The stubborn bastard won’t stop checking even though it’s too early for that.

Sheets rustle overhead. I set my pencil down and stare at the ceiling. Her heartbeat picks up. She makes a groggy little noise and stretches until her joints pop. She grumbles and rolls over to put her feet on the floor. When she goes quiet, I know she’s listening for me the same way I’ve been listening for her.

“Good morning, beautiful,” I call up the stairs.

Her giggle floats back down. She scrambles into the bathroom and shuts the door.

I pick my pencil back up, but I don’t write a word. The toilet flushes, and the sink runs. She hums while she brushes her teeth. I don’t think she’s ever noticed she does it. Her clothes hit the tile when she starts the shower. I want to be up there with her, but I sit on my hands.

“Stop being a creep,” she calls out.

I laugh but keep my mouth shut. She knows damn well I’m listening to every move she makes. She’s not going to shame me out of it today, with her claim fresh on my neck and mine still healing on hers.

The water cuts off, and a dresser drawer creaks open upstairs. She works a brush through the tangles in her hair and takes her time with her lotion. The shea butter mixes into her wild berries and drifts down to me until my mouth waters. I want to drown in her.

I push away from the desk and stand when she hits the stairs. She nudges the cracked office door open the rest of the way. I’m grinning again. I already know I look ridiculous and don’t care.

Her hair is combed up into a ponytail. She’s wearing my T-shirt with nothing under it but her panties. Its collar hangs loose, showing off my bite on her dewy brown neck. When her silver eyes meet mine, my dragon rears up, and I brace a hand behind me.

She ducks her head in the doorway and crosses the office with her gaze locked on her mark. I brush my fingers over it while she watches. Her scent gives a smug little kick she’d never cop to out loud.

I cup her face and give her a slow kiss. Her warm mouth tastes of mint. When I pull back, she beams up at me.

I’ll thank Mother Fate for the rest of my days.

“Good morning,” she says.

“Good morning.” I run my thumb across her cheek. “You need to hydrate. Go get some water.”

She stays planted in front of me. I should’ve expected that from a wolf who has never done a damn thing I’ve asked her to do without an argument. I sigh and point at the chair behind my desk. “Okay. Fine. Sit down, and I’ll go get it for you.”

I go to walk around her, but she steps into my path and grabs my shirt. She backs me up with steady pressure until I sink into my chair. She straddles my lap and wraps her arms around my neck. Her thighs are warm on mine.

I’m not going to survive this woman.

She grips my chin and turns my face to bare the mark. Her brow pinches while she studies the shape her teeth left in my skin. Worry sharpens her scent. “Let me see it. I want to make sure you’re okay.”

I cover her hand with mine. “I’m fine, Aya. Baby, I promise you I’m fine.”

She shifts closer in my lap to see it better. My dick goes hard against her and aches. She freezes at the press of me between her thighs. She smirks as she drops her hand and sits back on my knees.

“Let me get you some water,” I manage.

“No. Not yet.” She gives me the face she makes when she’s already decided how this is going to go. Nothing I say will change it. She grabs my notepad off the desk and pulls it into her lap.

“You’ve been working.” She scans the pages.

“Yes.” I lean back in the chair. “I was trying not to fuck you in your sleep.”

She doesn’t glance up from my notes. “I wouldn’t have minded if you did.”

My dick twitches under her. She has to feel it, but she keeps reading. I huff smoke out of my nose.

“Your handwriting is horrible. I can barely make any of this out.” She flips a page and squints at my sketches. She turns the pad around to show me. “So what are you working on?”

I stare at her. “You want to talk about this now?”