NSFW
A Light in the Dark Bonus Scene: “Sam Makes Some Friends”
CLAIRE
Claire and Sam had been at Felda’s homey little cottage for four hours.
Sam was lucky he was so precious, because Claire’s patience for sitting around not doing much was wearing thin; for anyone else she would have already snapped and made a hasty exit. But her mate and the village of Edden’s vibrant fiber artist were embroiled in a frantic discussion about fiber and spinning and color theory that Claire had long since abandoned understanding. She had her knitting, and she was fine sitting in the lovely painted chair from her first visit and letting the warmth from the fire and the murmur of their voices wash over her.
For now.
They’d been living in Edden for just about two weeks now, waiting for the Consortium and Guild officials to arrive so they could close out the business with the manor and move on with their new lives. Claire had been pleasantly shocked that very few people had had a problem with Sam’s appearance, but a chat with O’brenne had illuminated why.
“Well, he’s just Drakari, is he not?” she’d asked, dusting a shelf full of her wares. “They’re rare, but not exactly fearsome. We had an older Drakari couple come through here on their way to Citrine City some years back.”
Claire had been puzzled; the name was familiar, but she couldn’t place it. “Drakari?”
“You know, the non-elf folk from Istarii. Big, gray skin, horns and claws, bordering on a little too friendly?”
It had taken a moment, but eventually the dots had connected and Claire had been left gasping and feeling like an enormous fool. “Oh, of course!” she’d breathed, scrubbing her hand down her face. “It’s been so long since I heard about them, and I’ve never seen one in the flesh. Um–before Sam, that is.” Naja hadn’t invented a monster at all–she’d borrowed most of Sam’s appearance from real people who lived in a nation to the south. I suppose it shouldn’t come as a surprise that that mad fae is racist on top of everything else, Claire had mused.
“Curious he doesn’t have the tail, though. And some have wee wings, too.”
“Yes, to be sure,” Claire had responded, her mind whirling with the revelation. “And you said a Drakari couple was here recently?”
O’brenne had shrugged, moving onto the next shelf. “Aye, if you think a decade is recent. But they stayed for a bit and made a fair few friends in the village. I think Teran still writes them.”
Claire had smirked. Of course Teran would be the one to do such a thing.
When she’d imparted that information upon Sam and Tully that evening, Sam had been stunned. But Tully had been completely unfazed.
“Yes, this is just so,” she’d shrugged. “I had a fair amount of contact with the Drakari and their Istarii Drakan cousins during my service in Viskega. You did not know, maya boichik?”
Sam had shaken his head slowly, the curling tendrils of hair not captured in his bun bobbing against his handsome gray face. “No, not in the slightest. Does this…does this mean I’m not a monster?”
Tully had slapped his arm playfully, snorting. “Of course not! This is why it is not worth the risk of trying to change you back. The Drakari are a rare sort outside of their home country, but they are just people like you and I, yes?”
Finding that out had done wonders for Sam’s fears about meeting the townsfolk, and it had been only a matter of time before he was asking Claire to come with him to meet Felda–he wasn’t so changed as all that. He still needed her for moral support and to smooth the way with social interaction.
Felda sprang to her feet with a shrill sound that startled Claire from her thoughts, then dashed out of the room. Sam laughed, turning to Claire with eyes so bright and full of warmth she ached to see it.
“She wants to give me one of her wheels!” he told her, beaming and practically vibrating with excitement. “It’s just a little one she used to bring to the markets when she still attended them, but I’ll have a wheel again!”
Claire laughed, setting her knitting down to get up and steal a kiss. “You are completely adorable,” she murmured against his lips. “That’s great, Sam. I was so upset that you’d lost your other one.” Claire had already been planning on saving up to get him a new spinning wheel, but having this one in the meantime still meant a lot. “How much does Felda want for it?”
He grinned, his arms slipping around her waist and pulling her close. “She insisted on it being a gift. I’ll have to find some other way to thank her.”
Felda returned carrying a bundle just a little smaller than Claire’s travel pack, looking flushed and excited. “Here it is!” she cried, setting it down on the floor and peeling off the muslin covering.
The little wheel was made of blond wood and was so small that Claire couldn’t help cooing at it. She recognized most of the parts from her lessons with Sam, but in this case they were all packed tightly together in order to keep the profile of the device as compact as possible. The single treadle attached directly to the wheel with a little arm held on with strips of thick leather. The bobbin looked smaller than Claire remembered the one for Sam’s old wheel being, and the wheel itself was only a little over a foot across, she reckoned.
“It’s beautiful,” Sam breathed, reaching out to gently stroke it like it was a shy dog he was trying to win over. “Are you absolutely certain you don’t want anything for it?”
Felda waved away his concerns and retook her seat. “Nonsense, Sam. I have no use for it now that my hip’s too bad to make it to the markets. I insist you have it and give it a good home.”
Claire squeezed Sam’s shoulder, noticing his eyes getting glossy, and decided to step in before the poor man was completely overwhelmed. “Surely you can at least let us treat you to a meal as thanks,” she smiled, shifting ever so slightly closer to her emotional mate. “You’ve been so generous.”
Felda’s lips twisted as she considered. At length she shook her head, chuckling. “Alright, I accept. Only a fool turns down a free meal, eh?”
They arranged to meet her at the tavern for dinner that night, and then at long last Claire and Sam were taking their leave.
“Sorry that went on so long,” Sam murmured as they walked through the village to return to their room. He rubbed the back of his neck, smiling sheepishly. “Time really got away from me.”
Claire smiled up at him, her arm going around his back. “It’s alright, I didn’t mind.” Well, not really. “You were having so much fun making a new friend, and I loved to see it.”
“Felda’s not my friend. Is she? I only just met her.”
“And then spent the better part of a day talking to her. She’s given you a gift. What is that if not a friend?”
He looked stunned. “I suppose you’re right.” He flushed, shoulders hunching. “I’m just now realizing I’ve not had much experience with making friends.”
Claire groaned, squeezing him with the arm she had around him. “Sam,” she cried, “why must you say things like that when we’re not alone?”
He cocked an eyebrow at her. “What do you mean?”
She rolled her eyes. “I mean saying things that make me want to swaddle you up like a baby and climb you like a tree at the same time.” She waved her free arm, indicating all the people out walking around. “I can’t do either right now and it’s driving me crazy.”
She felt very pleased with herself when he flushed, ducking his head and jostling her. “Why do you have to say things like that? Are you trying to make me…react in public? Bring shame to us all?”
She laughed, squeezing him again. “Alright, fair. Luckily we’re almost to the inn anyway.” She bit her lip, meeting his eyes with heat. “Then we can misbehave all we want.”
Sam stumbled, letting out a very undignified squeak, but managing to stay upright, shooting her a venomless glare. “You just promised, Claire!”
“I’m sorry!” she cried, choking back the giggles that threatened to spill out. “For what it’s worth I was genuinely not thinking.”
He rolled his eyes and snorted, but let her pull him in close against her side anyway.
Sweet Delenaa, the way she loved this man.
Claire should have known it wouldn’t be a simple matter to make their way to their room so she could ravish Sam in peace.
As soon as they stepped into the warm, cozy common room they were set upon by a flushed and mildly drunk Tully, who was making up for two-hundred years of purgatory by making friends and drinking mates of everyone who came through the Spur’s doors.
“Maya chjyza!” she cried, lurching to her feet and weaving her way over to them. “Come, sit, join us!” She reached up and patted their cheeks, Sam bending dutifully so she could reach. “We are having a lovely time, I am telling you!”
Claire hid her wince, disguising it as a smile. “We’re a little tired, Tully, we were going to have a nap before dinner–”
Tully scoffed, waving away her protests. “Come! Come, come, come. Is one drink, I promise!”
Claire’s eyes darted to Sam’s face, noting that he was already edging closer to his adoptive mother with an apologetic smile in Claire’s direction. She sighed, doing her best to ignore the way her pulse throbbed between her legs as she made to join the group.
She was a big girl; she could wait.
Tully was sitting with Callum and Hestia, the owners of Edden’s only bakery, the two normally quiet middle-aged bakers ruddy-faced and giggling into their cups. Claire had to hand it to Tully–she had quite the way with people. She shook both their hands and told them it was lovely to see them again; she’d sat down to talk to them both when she’d first arrived in Edden a lifetime ago, and Hestia had even been able to give her some details about the manor.
“Lovely to see you again, dearie!” the older woman beamed, her eyes focusing on Claire’s face with some difficulty. “I’m so glad you were able to free this poor lad. I told Callum though, I said to him as soon as I saw you, ‘See there now, Cal–that one’s going to be doing great things.’ Didn’t I, lovey?”
Callum nodded emphatically, almost spilling some of his ale. “Oh, aye, that y’did. My Hestie’s a right good judge of character, y’know.”
Hestia giggled, swatting at his arm but leaning in close to give his stubbled cheek a kiss. “He does know how to flatter,” she murmured.
Maybe it was strange, but Claire loved seeing a couple who’d been together for a long time still being sweet on each other. It soothed the part of her that couldn’t help fearing, just a little bit, for her own relationship’s longevity. She supposed it was just a symptom of seeing so many miserable marriages growing up among Kersterinian high society.
She turned her head to look up at Sam, seated to the right of her on the bench they shared with Tully, and was surprised to see his eyes already on her, looking soft and sweet and wanting. She reached over and took his hand, squeezing the huge appendage and smiling up at him. Somehow, she knew his thoughts were on a similar track as her own: thinking about their future, and how long and beautiful it could be, now.
“Are you going back to the big city, son?” Callum asked Sam, leaning far over the worn wooden tabletop separating them. “To be with your lady-love, here?”
Sam flushed, his grip on her hand tightening. “Yes, I plan on it. I thought I might enroll in school and follow her into the Guild.”
“Oh, that’s so dear!” Hestia cried. “I love to see a couple embarking on a career together. It’s a trial by fire, but if you can run a business together without murdering each other, then you’ll weather anything life can throw at you, to be sure.”
Callum laughed, putting his arm around his wife and dragging her closer against her side. “Remember how many times you threatened to castrate me in that first year with the bakery?” he said fondly, kissing her temple. “Can’t say I didn’t earn it, neither. I wasn’t quite my best self, then.”
Hestia smiled up at him, putting a hand on his leg. “Oh aye, I remember, alright. But we made it out of the weeds with both your bollocks intact and safely tucked in your pants.”
Sam choked, sputtering out a laugh, and Claire decided that she wasn’t quite so upset by this diversion, after all.
SAM
It was both pleasant and agonizing to get roped into a conversation with drunk strangers at Tully’s request, but Sam had to admit that overall he’d had a good time. It was so new and strange to meet a new person and be met with kindness and curiosity, and he was pleased to find that the more times he talked to people, the less sweaty and nervous he felt. But he was still relieved to be able to make his exit with Claire and finally slip away to their room for some peace and quiet.
His arousal from her earlier teasing had dimmed, but lingered on the fringes of his awareness; if he didn’t keep his focus on mundane things his cock would twitch and start to fill in his pants, and there was no hiding that fact with this particular pair. He realized too late that he’d made a mistake in letting Claire lead them up the stairs, the hypnotic sway of her hips grabbing his attention and throttling him over the head with a powerful burst of need that had him stumbling on the wooden stairs. He managed to do it quietly, at least, but it would be a miracle if they made it the rest of the way to their room without his making a fool of himself.
Though, his attraction towards and affection for Claire was so powerful that he’d gladly make a fool of himself for her again and again. He’d lived most of his life stuffed full of insecurity and self-consciousness, but when it came to this woman who was miraculously his, that all fell away. If she wanted it, if she needed it, if it would bring a smile to her face, then he’d do it, whatever it was.
How could he not? She was everything.
The gods were merciful, allowing him to make it back to the privacy of their little room without inciting an incident. He sighed in relief, following her inside and trying to be subtle about holding his new wheel over his crotch.
But it seemed that Sam had not been the only one going mad with pent-up desire. As soon as the door was shut and latched Claire launched herself at him, leaping into his arms and crashing her mouth into his with a desperation he felt mirrored in the pit of his stomach. He hastily set down his gift from Felda and cradled the backs of her thighs in his hands, unable to resist kneading her plush flesh.
She moaned into his mouth, her tongue hot and sweet against his. An answering moan slipped from his throat for her to swallow, and he was walking before he could decide to do it consciously. He pressed her into the nearest wall, letting it take some of her weight so his hands could wander just a little. He was starving for her, the smell of roses and vanilla singing in his veins and making his mouth water. One hand supporting her ass, his other trailed higher, dancing over her soft belly until he was able to palm the silky weight of her breast through her shirt.
She gasped, nipping at his lip and grinding her hips into him, rolling the sumptuous heat of her sex into the aching length of his erection until he was weak in the knees.
He rolled the firm nub of her nipple between his fingers, pulling a whimper from her kiss-swollen lips, and then he was setting her down onto her feet, following her to the floor and settling on his knees. He pulled her blouse free from where it was tucked into her pants and kissed the rich brown skin he exposed, his fingers fumbling to get her pants undone and off of her. If he didn’t bury his face in her pussy in the next breath he might lose his mind.
Claire writhed against him, pinned between him and the wall, her hands combing through his hair–when had it escaped its bun?–and gently stroking his face as he kissed and licked whatever he could reach, his lust-clumsy fingers finally getting her clothes loosened and off her mouth-watering body.
He groaned, leaning down so that he could press his nose into the tight black curls at the apex of her sex, breathing the sweet musk of her deep into his lungs.
“Sweet Delenaa, you always smell so fucking good, sweetheart,” he rasped, his hands caressing the soft skin of her thighs.
“You want to move to the bed?” she panted, her fingers wrapping around his horns as he licked along her seam.
“No.”
He grabbed one of her legs and slung it over his shoulder, opening her wide for him, and he rumbled in appreciation at the sight of her glistening rosey-brown petals just begging for his tongue. He sank a little lower, sitting on his heels now, then slung her other leg over his empty shoulder, making her squeak in surprise as her weight settled onto his shoulders, his hands cupping her ass for additional support. Her upper body sagged against the wall with a soft thump, and once he was satisfied he wouldn’t drop her he dove into his favorite meal in all Cillure.
Her sweet tang burst on his tongue, her scent all around him and making him drunk as he feasted. He’d been a very devoted student in the weeks since they’d first come together, and he liked to make a game of things: how quickly could he make her come the first time? How many orgasms could he wring from her gorgeous body before she was too sensitive and begging for a break? How many times could he make her gush and soak him with her juices?
It was great fun.
She began grinding her hips up into his mouth, her hands like vices around his horns. He licked her clit in a slow figure 8, flicking at the hood on the upstroke, then latched onto it and sucked it like he knew she liked.
She choked on a scream, her thighs clenching tight around his ears and her body curling up off of the wall. He felt her throb and flutter in his mouth, hot liquid dripping from her sweet cunt onto his chin. He released her with a grin, switching to slow, almost tickling licks as she came down and caught her breath. He watched her chest heave with her breaths, beads of sweat sparkling the skin of her cleavage. Normally he’d lick her sweat off of her in between pleasuring her, his body always so desperate for her that he couldn’t help himself. But if he wasn’t careful he’d drop her, and that was simply unacceptable.
He gradually increased his speed and pressure again, winding her back up until she was moaning his name and riding his face with everything she had. This time when she came he was able to see her face, the look of ecstasy twisting her perfect features but somehow only making her beauty shine brighter. Heat pooled low in his belly; this was his Claire, his mate, the woman who had saved him and would be his wife. There was no greater honor in the world than this: settling between her legs and lighting her up like a star over and over again.
After the third orgasm she gently fisted his hair and tugged him away from her. “I want you inside me, love,” she rasped, her expression dazed but determined.
He growled, trying to bury his face in her again, but she held him firm and yanked first one leg free and then the other. Once she was back on her feet she held out her hand to help him up, then led him over to the bed.
She took a seat on the edge facing him, her hands trailing over the slight roundness of his belly and up to the wide planes of his chest. He shivered at her touch, one hand reaching out to cup her face as she looked at him. Her nimble fingers made quick work of his tan waistcoat, then the buttons of his black shirt. He shrugged the clothes off of his frame, letting them flutter to the floor. He went to unbutton his pants, his cock wet with precum and sticking to the fabric uncomfortably, but before he could she grabbed his wrists and stopped him.
She grinned at him, her amber eyes sliding down his form appreciatively. “Gods above and below, you are so sexy,” she breathed, leaning forward to trace the outline of his rock-hard cock through his pants with her pink tongue.
His breath caught in his throat, pleasure rocketing through him, making his vision sizzle. She tongued him through the fabric until it was wet through and clinging to him, one hand cupping the back of her head while the other pressed into his own forehead.
Finally she relented, making quick work of getting his pants loose and down his strangely-shaped legs. He stepped out of them, giving his cock a few rough strokes to ease some of the ache there.
“How do you want me?” he asked, his voice full of grit even in his own ears.
The goddess before him bit her lip, studying him closely. She tilted her head, one of her hands coming up to play with her breast. “Hmm…” she considered, before grinning and twisting, getting onto her hands and knees on the edge of the bed.
He gave the plump roundness of her ass an appreciative slap as he lined the swollen, dripping head of his cock up with the slick heat of her entrance. “As my lady commands,” he murmured, sinking into her with a torturous slowness that made them both groan and pant. When he was fully seated, his pelvis pressed tight against her ass, he sagged forward, kissing her shoulder and taking a shuddering breath while he gathered himself. He didn’t want this over too soon.
But Claire, it seemed, was unwilling to wait. When he didn’t move she started rolling her hips, pressing back into him and encouraging him to start thrusting.
He grabbed her hip with one hand, urging her to still. “I need a minute, love,” he ground out, kissing the curve of her neck to show her he wasn’t upset.
“If you need the minute for you then that’s alright. But if you’re worried about making it good for me you already did that, and now all I want is for you to pound me into this mattress and fill me with your hot cum.”
He froze, considering her words, kissing his way down her spine until he was upright once more. Then something inside him snapped, the wild howling thing at the core of him that slavered and begged for him to rut into his mate taking over, driving his hips forward at a punishing pace that had Claire screaming into the mattress, her hands white-knuckling the blankets as he drove into her with loud, wet slaps of flesh on flesh.
His orgasm hit him suddenly, barreling down his spine and wrenching his sac up tight against his shaft hard and fast enough that it almost hurt, but pleasure eclipsed it all as he thrust forward one last time and emptied himself into Claire with a barely-stifled roar, stars bursting across his vision and his knees threatening to give out as wave after wave of bliss pumped his seed into her body.
Finally, he was spent, letting himself collapse onto the bed beside Claire. Eyes closed, he groped blindly until he found her and tugged her into the cradle of his arms, her face nuzzling into his sweat-drenched chest. She gave his pectoral a weak slap. “Great job,” she mumbled, wiggling closer to him. “I think I actually died that time.”
He managed a chuckle, the world vaguely spinning around him beyond the velvet closeness of his shut eyes. “I may also be dead. But what a way to go, hm?”
There was nothing like this, nothing as perfect as lying wrapped up with the love of his life, safe and sated and still riding the high of their lovemaking. He pressed his nose into her hair–which she’d braided in rows close against her scalp once again in a style she called ‘cornrows’ to protect her hair while they were traveling–and let the warm smell of her skin color his every breath.
She was quiet for a long time, so that he thought she might have fallen asleep. But she hadn’t, asking him a question as she burrowed in closer against him. “How has it been for you, talking to so many new people?”
“Strange,” he answered honestly. “But good. Having you with me helps a great deal. It keeps me calm to know that I have a fierce bodyguard protecting me if anyone gets any ideas about trying to hurt me.”
She chuckled, pressing kisses into his skin that had him melting. “I’m glad to hear it, sweet man.” She wriggled free and scooted up the bed so she could lay on it properly, her head on the pillow. She patted the one beside her and he grinned, joining her. “Have you had any ideas about what you might want to do now that you’re free? Besides joining the Guild.”
He had, but he was reluctant to talk about it out loud. It felt like bringing up this particular topic would invite misfortune, would remind her of his failings and sour her feelings for him.
Something of his inner conflict must have shown on his face, her expressive brows drawing together in concern. “What is it? Is something wrong, Sam?”
He sighed, worming his way in close against her so he wouldn’t have to look her in the eye. She held him, combing the tangles from his long crimson curls with her fingers. “It’s just…with Samhain coming I’ve been thinking a lot about…Ingrid.”
“Ah. What about her?”
He bit his lip, his hands tightening where he gripped her. “How I might try to…make it right. Honor her memory and do something to help others in a position like hers.”
Claire hummed thoughtfully, her hands still gentle and soothing. “Do you want help coming up with ideas?”
He pulled away enough to look up at her face. “You’d help me?”
She cocked an eyebrow at him, clearly incredulous. “You think I wouldn’t want to?”
He smiled, surging up to pull her into a kiss. He was a fool, but at least she loved him anyway. “Of course you would. I’m sorry.”
She smiled, kissing him back. “We’re partners. We do things together, help each other. When I have to do hard things, I’ll lean on you.” She kissed him again, her lips soft and sweet. “Now, speaking of hard things…”
Sam laughed, rolling onto his back and pulling her on top of him. “I’m all ears, sweetheart.”
They were late for dinner, Sam’s tangled hair tossed up into a messy bun and Claire’s face still sheened with sweat. He was fairly certain the reason for their lateness was obvious, but if Felda suspected she was kind enough not to say anything.
“There they are!” she cried when they entered the common room, standing and waving at them. Tully had joined her, still ruddy-faced with drink and smiling a little too wide; still drunk, then. Sam waved back, feeling his face heat, and rubbed at the back of his neck in lieu of combing through his hair.
“Hullo!” Claire trilled, smiling brightly and taking his hand as she led them through the gathering dinner crowd. “Have you been waiting long?”
Felda shook her head, chuckling. “Just long enough to get a drink.” She lifted her flagon of ale and took a sip. “And to meet your lovely mother, here, Sam.”
Tully beamed, grabbing Felda’s arm in a friendly clasp. “She is lovely, our Felda. So kind! Show him what you have got, maya pochte!”
Felda laughed again, grabbing a bundle off the bench next to her and putting it in front of Sam when he sat opposite her. “I was going through some things and found this. I’d meant to give it to my son the last time he was in town because I don’t want it anymore, and I’d rather it be out of my house. It’s nothing, really!”
He took it, noting that whatever it was was very light and squishy. A familiar warm scent wafted from the cloth, and he felt his throat tighten. Undoing the knot holding the bundle closed, Sam loosed a choked laugh when a large ball of rich pumpernickel-brown roving revealed itself. “But you’ve already given me a gift!” he protested weakly, his fingers already pinching and stroking the wool. A shiver ran down his spine at just how deliciously springy it felt.
“This isn’t a gift! You’re doing me a favor, helping me make room for more.” She took another sip of her ale. “It’s the younger fiber artist’s sacred duty to take on the unwanted parts of the elder’s stash to let them fatten it up with other pretties.” They shared a laugh, Sam unspeakably touched to have gotten not just a wheel from his new friend, but some lovely wool to use with it, as well.
Because Claire was right; the woman across from him was his friend. Strange and unsettling as it felt, this wasn’t just someone being polite, or doing something out of obligation. Felda clearly liked him, and wanted him to know it.
“I knew you and Felda would be fast friends!” Teran cried out from over his shoulder, patting him on the back. “Soon as I saw you knitting away and letting your breakfast go cold. I told Sil, you can ask him, I said, ‘Sil, wait til that one and Felda cross paths. The whole town’s going to be decked in wool trinkets within the week’!” And then he was off, talking about an art installation he’d seen in Citrine City when he and Sil had traveled there for a vacation some years ago. Sam settled in, one hand still stroking his prize while his other reached for Claire’s hand–his other and far more valuable prize. She leaned in, resting her head on his arm, and pure burning joy filled his entire body.
He knew it would take time to rid himself of the feeling of being watched and judged, if he ever did. He would always have nightmares and hear dark whispers in the shadows when he was feeling low. But every scar was worth it to find himself where he was now. To have been able to just meet Claire would have been worth it, but to have her love and affection, her sweet kisses and fiery heart too, was a gift from the gods beyond anything he could have ever dreamed up. His precious Garnette Mason novels had not prepared him properly for just how big it felt to be in love like this, but it was everything. And for that to have not even been the only goodness to come to him–holy gods, it was so much.
He had real friends here. In the very first place he’d gone, finally free from two centuries of nightmare, he’d found more kindred souls than ever before in his long life, over the course of a paltry week.
“Ter, order up!” Silvio called from the back room, frowning at his husband, now sitting beside Sam on the bench and fully enmeshed in an entirely different story. But the frown melted quickly into a grin, Sil’s mustache hiking up on one side.
“Oh, sorry, Sil! Coming!” Teran stood, chuckling. “I came over here to see what you fine folks wanted to eat, and look at me now! I’ll be right back though, just sit tight!” And then he was off, grabbing the steaming platter off the counter with a conciliatory peck to Sil’s cheek.
“Such a character, that one,” Tully laughed, putting her arm around Claire’s shoulders from her seat on his mate’s other side. “I bet the two of them crazja like rabbits.”
Felda nearly choked on her mouthful of ale, while Sam and Claire sputtered and tried not to laugh too loudly.
