Dar moved then—fast, decisive. He caught her arms, pulling her against him, not roughly but with a strength that left no room for retreat.
Her breath caught at the sudden closeness.
“Do you truly think I fear his anger?” he said, his voice low, fierce. “It is you I fear for.”
She stilled, her heartbeat hammering.
“He could order your death,” Dar went on. “A word from his mouth and it would be done. Quietly. Efficiently. And I—” His grip tightened, then eased, as though he fought himself. “I would not stand for it. I could not.”
Her voice softened. “Dar?—”
“If he takes you from me,” he said hoarsely, “there is nothing left. No hunt worth tracking. No future worth claiming.” He swallowed hard. “Life would hold no purpose.”
The truth of how much he loved her struck her harder than the words themselves.
He stared down at her as if only now, realizing what he had laid bare. His jaw clenched. “Bloody hell,” he muttered, the words thick, almost embarrassed.
And then he kissed her.
Not gently. Not carefully.
His mouth claimed hers with urgency, with fear barely leashed, as if he needed the kiss to prove she was still there, still alive, still his. She felt the unspoken words in it, the ones he could not yet say, the ones Hunters were never taught to give voice to.
Elara melted into him, knowing them anyway, knowing he loved her, and knowing, too, that loving her might cost him everything.
She welcomed his demanding kiss, savoring every moment of it. No secrets clouded their path nor divided them. They were free to love.
His lips fell away from hers and he lowered his brow to hers, his hands squeezing at her waist as he whispered, “What am I going to do with you?”
The answer was simple. “Love me.”
He lifted his brow and stared at her, then with barely a shake of his head, he said, “I don’t know how.”
She smiled and not so softly said, “Hunters always get their prey… hunt for it.”
Her challenge shifted something inside him, an instinct that was primal, one that never failed him.
His eyes narrowed in warning. “That would make you… my prey.”
She laughed softly. “That means you have yet to catch me.”
“Yet here you are in my arms.”
“But am I in your heart?” she whispered. “For I know without a doubt you are in mine.”
He grumbled beneath his breath, fighting a turmoil he didn’t understand. His hand went to grip the back of her neck. “You are mine.”
She saw anger mixed with confusion in his gray eyes and she challenged him once again. “Not the same as in your heart.”
“Hunters don’t have hearts.”
“Is that what Hunters tell themselves so they can hunt without feeling and always get their prey?”
“It is inbred in us,” he argued and dropped his hand off her neck to step away from her.
“Don’t look for an excuse. Look for an answer.”
Again, she challenged him.