“But who are you, if not celi di, to bring me here?”
“I did not bring you.”
“Then I brought you?” he asked, sounding unsure.
“No. Perhaps we are not even here for each other, merely at the same time.”
It was his turn to say, “No,” but with a great deal more vehemence than she had uttered the denial. “You are here for me.”
“You did not even know where you were; how can you be so sure of that?”
“My wolf wants you.”
There was no mistaking the heat in his grey eyes.
“Perhaps wolves are not taught they cannot have everything they want, but we of the Éan know differently.”
He tugged on her hand, moving her to stand between his feet, so close their bodies touched.
Her heart raced, but it was not in terror. Her breath caught, but not because her lungs refused to work. For the first time in five years, Una found herself wanting to be near another adult, craving a physical closeness she was sure would be denied her always.
“You crave me as well,” he claimed, his expression no longer confused, but knowing in a way that made heat pool low in her belly.
“Here, I may feel all that I am denied when I am fully myself.”
“What do you mean?” he asked, his head bent as if to listen more closely.
Or kiss her.
Was it possible that she actually hoped for the latter?
“I cannot abide any but my parents and the very young in close proximity.”
“Why?”
“It is not something I would speak of here.” The ugliness of her past and her ongoing pain did not belong in this beautiful place.
“One day you will tell me.”
She laughed then, as she so rarely did—and only then around the children. “You assume we will see one another again.”
“I am living among your people now. If I do not see you in this miraculous place again, I will see you in your village.”
She simply shook her head, knowing differently. “I do not go to the village.”
At least right now. Her father had forbidden her.
“As time goes on, we will be allowed into the trees.”
“I doubt that.” Some of the humans living among their tribe had never even received an invitation to do so.
His smile was knowing, but he did not argue with her. Instead, he lowered his head further and whispered against her lips. “I wonder.”
“What do you wonder?” she asked breathlessly.
“If you taste as delectable as you smell to my wolf.”
She would have answered. She might even have denied him, though she did not think so, not when this was the only taste of intimacy she was likely to ever have.