She watched out her window as predawn gradually lightened her bedroom. Then she curled on her side facing Sebastian. He slept stretched out on his stomach, his head half buried by pillows. Even though the room was chilly, he had pushed the blankets down to his hips.
Her gaze followed the peaks and hollows of his wide shoulders and biceps and down his muscled back. His tanned skin bore the marks she had made on him, long scratches on his back and the reddened bite mark on his arm, already fading.
She lifted the covers to look at herself. He had marked her too. Bruises dotted her hips and thighs, and the bite he had given her, at the juncture of her neck, felt tender and sensitive to the touch. But she was only human, and the marks on her body would not be as quick to fade.
She slipped a hand between her legs. She felt throbbing and sore below too. He had spent himself on her again and again, and he had wrung more climaxes out of her than she had ever thought possible. And she was fiercely glad for all of it.
She also knew what that could mean. It was possible—just barely possible—that he might be beginning to mate with her. It was too soon to know, of course. It was too soon for everything. Only time could tell if he would mate with her, or if he would pull away, or if this complete, full-blown obsession she had developed for him would turn out to be love.
But she thought, at least in her case, that it was the beginnings of falling in love. She really thought it was. He was fine and fierce, complicated and quite extraordinary, and the strength of emotion and vulnerability he had shown to her surpassed anything she had ever experienced from anyone else. He engaged all of her senses, emotions and intellect in a perfect trifecta.
Yes, I think I could grow to love you, she thought, as she looked at the back of his tousled head. I think I could grow to love you so much, I would do anything, give up anything, for you. So don’t back away from us. Give us time.
Of course she didn’t say any of that aloud. A sensible, sane person wouldn’t dream of saying any of that after spending just one single night with someone, however extraordinary that night had been.
So the new, trembling, fierce thing inside of her would keep silent for now, and watch, and pretend to be sensible and sane.
She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his bare shoulder. He stirred and rolled over, his tough face eased from sleep, and he gathered her into his arms. She went gladly, curling her tired, sore body to his. He cupped the back of her head, fitting her to his shoulder, and pressed a kiss to her forehead. She stroked her flattened hand along his lean chest, which was bare of hair.
Then she drifted with him, lightly along the edge of sleep, until the smell of brewed coffee wafted up from the kitchen, and the morning sunlight shone full and bright.
Breakfast was another quick, simple affair of coffee, leftover chicken, cheese and crackers, and fruit. After carefully inspecting the sealed jars in the huge pantry, Derrick declared that he might have fresh-baked bread for them later in the day.
Derrick, Tony and Bailey all made a point of smiling at Olivia and doing a dozen little things that said they were welcoming her into the fold. She was warmed by it, not only for her sake, but also for Sebastian’s. They cared about him, and that spoke volumes for the quality of his character and leadership.
Dendera’s attitude remained the same, reserved but not unfriendly, and Steve kept himself aloof, which, as far as she was concerned, was just as well. If he tried to tell her any more negative gossip she might haul off and hit him.
Once they finished the morning meal, Derrick and Tony took care of cleaning up. The three symbologists gathered the first batch of hermetically sealed containers and headed down the path to the cottage. Sebastian and Bailey insisted on accompanying them.