to a human’s. Arysteon’s long hair tumbled around his shoulders and in his face. The air was laden with that crisp, familiar lightning scent.
Arysteon pushed himself up onto his feet, claiming balance by adjusting his tail. The pain from his many wounds lingered now only in phantom sensations, their immediacy having fled in the wake of his change.
He once again met Leyloni’s gaze—this time from much closer to her eye level—and took a step toward her.
She raced forward, closing the distance between them in the span of a couple heartbeats, and crashed into him. Arysteon swayed from her momentum, and she threw an arm around his neck to draw him into a tight embrace. A sob escaped her.
Serek patted Arysteon’s face and shoulders, babbling happily. Spittle trickled down his chin.
Arysteon wrapped his arms around his mate and youngling, tipping his head down to rest his cheek atop Leyloni’s hair.
She tightened her hold on him. “I thought I was going to lose you.”
“Never,” he said, filling his nostrils with her scent to chase away the other smells that had assailed him.
“Your wounds!” Leyloni abruptly withdrew and ran her gaze over him, her eyes shining with tears. Her brows creased. “They…they are gone!” She touched her fingers to his neck, chest, and shoulder, trailing her fingers over the places where he’d been slashed, bitten, and battered, calling up echoes of his pain. Her caress soothed any lingering discomfort.
He followed the movements of her hand with his eyes. The scales over which her fingertips glided were undamaged, displaying no sign of the wounds Pavoss had inflicted. But Arysteon’s confusion and wonder at that was overpowered by the tantalizing heat following in the wake of her touch. His heart sped as that heat suffused him.
Arysteon clenched his teeth against the sudden bloom of desire within his loins—though he knew there was nothing sudden about it. The comet was still working its magic upon him, and he would have been hungry for his mate regardless, especially considering the challenge he’d just faced. His every instinct was to reassert his claim on her now. To fill her with his seed again and again, until she smelled of naught but him.
Serek, wanting to help, slapped his hand against Arysteon’s chest and shoulder. And the gesture was helpful in its own way, providing enough of a distraction to break Arysteon from the strengthening grasp of his need.
“You were bleeding,” Leyloni said, gently catching the baby’s hand and lifting her gaze to meet Arysteon’s.
Arysteon cupped her cheek in his palm, brushing the pad of his thumb across her soft skin. “I… When the change takes me, I feel myself being unmade, and my body is reborn from my spark. That must have undone my wounds as well.”
Leyloni leapt at him again, throwing her arm around his neck and hugging him tight. “I do not care how it happened, only that you are alive and here.”
Serek leaned forward and rested his forehead against Arysteon’s, hugging his cheeks as he babbled, seemingly in agreement with Leyloni.
Arysteon held them close, chest filling with warmth that had nothing to do with the comet.
20
Leyloni laughed as Serek, who was clutching her fingers for support, walked in front of her with hurried, stumbling steps. When she released him, he took several more steps before he lost his balance and plopped onto the grass with a delighted squeal. Sticking his fur covered bottom in the air, he pushed himself up, only to immediately tumbled to the side.
Her grin widened as Arysteon growled and gave chase to Serek. The baby giggled and crawled away, but he didn’t make it far before he was swooped up into Arysteon’s arms. Arysteon lowered Serek onto his feet and held his hands, helping the little one walk just as Leyloni had a moment before.
She knew the Snow Tree village was somewhere nearby—this was the area her father had described, and she’d found signs of hunting parties having been nearby, though all those signs had been days old. As eager as she was to find the Snow Trees, she was in no true hurry. This time with Arysteon and Serek was precious, and she wanted as much of it as she could have.
The days had been calmer since the passing of the Crimson Comet—Arysteon had been calmer. The urgent, desperate, bestial edge to his appetite for her had softened, allowing them to make love with slow-burning passion, to explore one another’s bodies fully and discover new means and heights of pleasure.
Even with