King of the Wilds - Tasha Black Page 0,24

arms.

“Bron,” she moaned again, as if she had forgotten every other word in the English language.

“Good girl,” he murmured. “Sleep now.”

“I need you,” she managed to whisper back.

“You want me,” he chuckled. “For which I am grateful. But what you need now is rest, mortal. When you wake, we can talk about the rings around our fingers.”

She wanted to protest, she really did.

But once again, he seemed to read her mind, sliding his rough fingers through her hair so gently in just the perfect way to make it impossible for her to stay awake.

13

Miranda

Miranda woke the next morning awash in happiness.

Bron’s strong arms were still around her, and the scent of the garden at dawn was incredible - fragrant roses and a dewy earthiness that filled her senses.

She stretched and Bron stretched, too.

“Good morning, lass,” he murmured into her hair, sending shivers down her spine.

“Good morning,” she whispered back.

He twined his hand with hers and she looked down to the see the inky vines twisting around their ring fingers.

A thousand worries crowded in the background, but at the front of her mind there was only joy and wonder.

She had always been too wrapped up in work to do much dating. She’d thought it would take a miracle for her to find the time to get to know a guy.

Now she was apparently going tattoo-steady with a massive hunky king.

And he seemed like he was very pleased about it.

The tattoos were only around their fingers though, they didn’t cover up to their wrists like the ones the others shared.

“Ready for a swim?” he asked.

She laughed. “Really?”

“Sure,” he said. “The creek is right down the hill. We can get in a quick swim before we meet the others.”

“I just have to get my stuff from the car first,” Miranda said.

Bron lifted his hand away from hers and their little den opened up, vines unfurling and pulling away.

She pulled on her swimsuit again first, realizing it wouldn’t look good for her to be caught buck naked in the garden. Then they walked together to her car, where Miranda grabbed her purse and shopping bag from yesterday, glad that she had a cosmetic bag and fresh clothing so that she could clean herself up a little.

And so that the others wouldn’t know she’d slept over with Bron.

But I have a tattoo on my finger.

She sighed.

That ship had sailed. A tattoo on the hand didn’t leave a lot of room for a relationship to start off in privacy. So much for keeping things quiet.

But the more she thought about it, the more she realized that she wasn’t sure she wanted to keep things quiet.

She had some things to figure out, but she felt peaceful in a way she never had before. That had to count for something.

“Race you to the creek,” Bron offered, his eyes twinkling.

She laughed and took off without agreeing. She needed every advantage in a race against a guy with legs as long as his.

He must have been holding back because she reached the bank long before he did.

“Nice,” he said, looking her appreciatively up and down.

Sheesh, she’d probably been jiggling all over the place tearing downhill in her suit. Somehow, she kept forgetting to be self-conscious around the burly king.

She grinned back at him and he offered her his hand to help her into the water.

Once in, she removed her suit and washed it with her mini-hand sanitizer as Bron looked on, bemused.

Then she washed her body as he watched with a heated expression.

“Can I wash you too?” she offered shyly.

But he shook his head.

“Oh,” she said, feeling stupid.

Had she misunderstood what happened between them?

“You see those vines around your finger?” he asked her, as if reading her thoughts.

She nodded.

“Do you know what they mean?”

“Sort of,” she said.

“I want you to understand completely before they grow up over your hand and around your wrist,” he said gruffly.

“So tell me,” she said.

“Get dressed and I will,” he said.

He stepped into the water, submerging and then coming up and shaking himself like her parents’ old Labrador used to do after a bath.

She managed not to laugh.

“Go on, go,” he said. “Or I’ll lose my resolve.”

She climbed out and decided to air dry for a minute or two before getting dressed.

“Gods, woman,” he growled from the water.

“What’s the story with the tattoo?” she asked primly.

“You are my queen,” he said simply. “When we seal that bond by fully consummating our union, the vines will crawl around our hands and we will spend the rest