Falling in Love with the King of Beasts

LERRIN

As the morning turned to afternoon and the sun warmed the forest, they walked and spoke more freely. Lerrin led the way, but Suhle helped him choose the path at each point to ensure that they left the least trail possible.

They stopped to eat alongside a river, sitting on a flat rock in the sun that might get warm enough to bleach their scent from the surface before anyone else found it.

Suhle unpacked rations she'd placed near the top of the smaller bag, and they sat facing in opposite directions to watch for pursuers, but thigh-against-thigh so that they could see each other's faces too.

"If you don't regret losing leadership, what do you hope for, Lerrin?" Suhle asked, returning to their earlier conversation. "Even if we are alone, we must have a purpose. Our lives will not be wasted."

"Of course not," he said, "But until we know where we'll settle, I won't make any plans or decisions. Until I know what resources we have and… I just look forward to building a life," he said simply, chewing on a piece of dried meat.

"What does life look like—the right life?" she asked, watching his face, her eyes bright.

Lerrin smiled sheepishly. "I've honestly only ever had one dream," he said quietly. "But I fear it will not hold the purpose you would want. We will have to discover that part together," he said, scanning the forest because he found himself suddenly vulnerable, afraid he might let her down.

She put her hand on his thigh. "No, Lerrin, tell me. I would hear it, exactly as you envision it. As you have always seen it in your mind. What does your life look like?"

He looked down for a moment, then forced himself to meet her gaze. "My happy cave," he said, then felt his cheeks heat.

But Suhle only tipped her head. "Tell me about it."

He'd never spoken about it, he realized. It had always been assumed that he would follow his father's footsteps and step into the Alpha role when Lucan was gone. There'd never been room in the life he was first groomed for, then leading, for this kind of quiet picture. It was something he'd always kept to himself.

But Suhle wouldn't judge, he knew. She might want to add to his picture, and that was okay. It was going to be her life as well. He didn't doubt that they would have need to compromise and find their way together. But she wouldn't judge, he knew that. So he launched in, clearing his throat because he felt oddly nervous.

"I've always imagined the side of a mountain," he said quietly, sliding his palm flat against Suhle's, then his fingers between hers, and watching her entwine her fingers with his. "I imagine that I would have to climb a path quite high—high enough to make it work so that no one would come unless they truly intended to," he said with a smile, imagining the solitude.

"And high on the mountainside is a cave mouth. One that is perhaps obscured by trees, or simply high enough that it can't be seen easily from the ground. However it is, I imagine myself standing in the opening of the cave and looking down on the trees and landscape below.

"That high up it's very quiet, except for birds, and the wind blowing through leaves. When I sleep at night, the cave is near silent. And when I wake in the morning, the sun creeps up to wash over the forest below from behind me, so I stay in shadow as long as I can.

"But if I stand in the same spot in the evening, I'm washed in sunlight and warmth," he said breathlessly. "The heat of it warms the cave before night, so it's always warm, even in the winter."

Suhle watched him, her mouth slightly open. He swallowed.

"For the longest time, Suhle, I only ever saw myself and my cubs—that they followed me, wanted to be near me, would mimic me. And when I stepped out of the cave, they'd play around my feet, calling out for me to see what they could see…" he trailed off, clearing his throat again. "But then I met you, and suddenly the picture was complete."

Her throat bobbed as he pulled her hand down and leaned in until they were almost nose to nose. "Now when I imagine standing in that evening sun with my cubs at my feet, I see my mate step out of the cave behind me and come to stand next to me."

She blinked. "Does she speak?" she whispered.

He shook his head. "She doesn't have to. She puts her hand at my back and smiles at our cubs and just scents the wind with me. And then when I turn back to the cave because night is falling, she's there too."

Her throat bobbed again, but her scent was rising with warmth from her skin, desire.

"I can see the fire that cooks and warms," he whispered using his free hand to trace the line down her jaw. "I can see the sleeping platform at the back of the cave, covered in furs. I can see myself curled up with her—no matter the weather outside. I can feel her soft skin and her gentle laugh, and I can hear the sighs she makes when she's pleased…"

"Pleased?"

"Pleasured," he said, his voice deep and rough. Suhle bit her lower lip and his eyes dropped to that spot, wishing he could use his tongue to tease it back out. "She isn't scared—she never has to be scared. Because she knows I would put myself between her and any danger that might appear. I would give my life to save hers, without hesitation."

"And she would give hers for you," she whispered.

He nodded then brought his eyes up to lock with hers. "And for the rest of our lives, that is all we need—that warmth, that closeness, our babies…" he dropped his gaze away, suddenly feeling that the entire picture was inadequate. "I know there is no purpose in that, Suhle, but truly, it's the dream that feeds my soul."

"You're so wrong, Lerrin," she whispered, pulling his chin up so he would look at her. "Love is the best purpose of all… can't you see that?"

And then she kissed him.