“No.” She leaned in as carefully as she could and brushed her lips over his. How do I do this? She sat back and examined his lips for frostbite.
“Don?” Keenan’s face crinkled in a frown. “I don’t understand.”
He’s here. That’s the important part.
“You’re alive.”
“And you are.” Keenan struggled to sit up. He frowned briefly. “I guess giving up my Winter left me weaker than I thought it would. I feel . . . wrong.”
The sob that Donia intended to hold in escaped.
“Don?” He tried to pull her to him, but she resisted—and he couldn’t move her.
Despite her resolve, frozen tears raced down her cheeks and onto the sheets. “I’m so sorry.”
“For what?” he asked. His voice was almost the same, but it sounded different enough that every word he spoke reminded her of his changed state.
“Getting hurt. This.” She pointed at him in the bed.
He caught her hand in his. “I’m alive . . . with you . . . in your bed. What do you have to be sorry about?”
“You’re mortal,” she blurted. Graceful, Don. She opened her mouth to try to say more, but he was laughing.
There were a lot of reactions she’d considered while he’d lain unconscious in her bed, but laughter wasn’t one of them. He held her hand and laughed until she was a bit worried. Then he shook his head. “Well, that’s new.”
“You don’t understand—”
“Don?” Keenan tugged her to him, and she let herself be pulled into his embrace.
Careful; no frost, no ice.
“I’m here with you. I don’t care about anything else.” Keenan stared at her with something like wonder in his very mortal blue eyes. “You’re alive,
and I’m here with you.”
“But—”
“I love you, and I’m here with you.” He slid his hand over her cheek. “Nothing else matters.”
“You’ll die,” she protested.
“Not today.” He covered her mouth with his and kissed her just as thoroughly as he had when he was a faery. His arms slid around her, and he pulled her down beside him.
The fear of hurting him made her cautious, but he had no hesitation. His hand was at the buttons of her shirt. Mortality hadn’t erased his deftness with clothing removal either.
He leaned back for a moment to tug her shirt down her arms, with the same wicked, lovely smile that had first stolen her breath years ago.
“You know,” he said, “after centuries, there aren’t too many things I can think of that I’ve wanted to try but haven’t.”
“Oh?” Cautiously, she slid her hands over his chest.
“Mm-hmm.” His fingertips traced her collarbone and down her arm, while his other hand unzipped her skirt.
She lifted her hips for him to remove her skirt.
“What did . . .” she started, but her words vanished as he leaned over and kissed her hip.
A few moments later, he whispered against her skin, “You know what I’ve never done?”