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She could not help looking.

The fine lines of muscle across his back shifted as he moved, lean strength under smooth skin. The curve of his hips, the flex of his shoulders, the quiet power in the way he carried himself even half-dressed.

Beloved, every line of him, even as she tried to let him go.

He pulled his trousers on but did not leave.

Instead, he turned back to her, crossed the room, and without a word, lifted her easily into his arms before settling back onto the bed. He draped her across him, her cheek against his chest, one arm firm around her waist.

It took her a moment to notice what he held in his other hand.

The notebook was older than she remembered.

The cover, once a deep brown leather, had faded to a softened, worn tan. The edges were curled slightly from use, the spine creased where it had been opened and reopened too many times.

On the front, in her own familiar handwriting, etched into the sturdy material with youthful, untrained hands:

Maka-bók.

"Manual of the Virtues of a Man."

She had written it half in jest, half in anger at the injustice when she was still in the schoolroom.

"This..." she whispered.

"Sion found it after I hounded him for days. It was in your old room at your parents' house. I dare not show my face there," Blaidd said with a self-deprecating smile, "not unless you come along to shield me from your mother. "

There was a hint of a teasing smile in his voice.

"I've read it so many times," he added.

She had written that name half in jest, half in defiance. Maka—to choose, to claim. It had been her private manifesto, her quiet rebellion. It had been her attempt to define what kind of man she would accept into her life, though ultimately, that choice would not be for her to make.

She traced the letters with her fingertip.

He pinched the book back from her and slowly flipped through the pages. She noticed he had made annotations with a pencil in the margins.

"I did not realise"—he smiled tenderly as he spoke—"that fourteen-year-old Fae had such…detailed expectations.”

She made a soft sound of embarrassment.

"But I am glad. Men really don't know what women want," he said as he reached up to steal a quick kiss before continuing.

He cleared his throat faintly and began to read.

"'My one will never look at another woman.'"

He paused and looked at her seriously. "That one," he seemed to consider, "is going to be difficult. I possess eyes."

"""Her lips twitched.

"But," he continued firmly, "I will not look at another woman with interest or hunger. And not with curiosity about what it would be like. I never had eyes for anyone but you. Not Rowena, not anyone."

Fae let out a soft, shaky breath that was heavy with remembered hurt. "You haven't looked at me, either," she said quietly. "And now it’s only because neither of us can escape the bond."

The words were sharper than she intended.

Blaidd's eyes seemed to pierce through her shield and see the humiliation of a lifemate who thought she was not pretty enough to hold his attention. Slowly, he set the notebook aside. Then he cupped her face in both hands, firm but gentle, forcing her to meet his eyes. "You're right," he said. "My eyes used to slide off you."