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“I see my mate has a problem listening.” He kisses the sensitive spot between my neck and shoulders. “Does this mean I win?” His fingers slip down the sweatpants, the gentle caress tickling the flesh where my hipbones are.

“Maybe. I’ll never tell.”

“Stubborn little mate.” Alaska tugs my sweatpants down, then flips me onto my back, his fingers stroking the middle of my chest again.

The fun is gone. Sadness returns to his eyes.

I run my fingers through his messy, tangled hair. “Hey, I’m okay. I promise. I feel great. Better than I did before the arrow shot me, and I know it’s because of the tears you gave me. I’m sorry you felt so afraid, so worried, but I’m here, okay? Let’s enjoy one another, Sunshine.”

“Why do you call me that? Sunshine? I’m barely a dim light in pitch black.”

“Maybe that’s how you see yourself, but that’s not how I see you. Do you know what Helios means?”

Alaska turns on the shower before caging me in again, shaking his head. “No, what does it mean?”

“The sun, but more god-like, traveling across the sky. You’re my sun, Alaska. You’re who I’ll always travel to. You’ll always be my home.”

He hums before replying. “I love that.” His knuckles stroke my cheek again. “I’m so glad you’re okay. I don’t know what I would have done. I would have welcomed death if anything happened to you.”

“Hey. I’m right here. Death can wait, right?”

“He can wait forever,” he replies, pressing a kiss to my cheek. “Come on, Honeybee. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Alaska guides me to the sink first, where I brush my teeth. I might scrub my tongue until I gag, but it’s necessary since I’ve been asleep for a full twenty-four hours. I spit out the toothpaste and rinse my mouth out with water, already feeling better.

My sweet mate helps me into the shower stall, keeping a tight grip on me so I don’t slip and fall. The hot water hits the middle of my chest, the heat seeping into my tired muscles.

I sigh, tilting my head back and not realizing Alaska would already be there. He embraces me. His strong arms wrap around my hips, and we stand there for a few minutes, allowing the hot water to run over us.

“You are beautiful,” he praises, grabbing the new washcloth and holding it to the warm spray to soak it.

“As long as you think so, that’s all that matters.”

He pours a very generous amount of body wash onto the cloth, then rubs the rag together. Alaska takes his time washing me, kneeling on the hard surface. He scrubs each leg, and the soap turns a light pink.

He’s right. I must have sweated out the bloodroot. Alaska keeps scrubbing until the water finally turns clear, then does the same to the other leg. It takes time, but eventually, the rag is ruined, and he’s washing my hair. His fingers dig into my scalp in a massage.

I press my shoulders against his chest, my hips jutting outward. My cock is painstakingly hard from the attention I’m getting. My blood heats. My mind wanders to nothing but filthy images of Alaska.

I need him.

I can’t wait another second to be bound, claimed, and owned.

Alaska spins me around, dipping my head back for the water to rinse out the shampoo. Our cocks touch, and he does nothing about it. That only annoys me further.

My hole becomes slick with the same lubricant that Alaska noticed in the pasture when we went camping. My fingers dig into his shoulders when a cramp slices through my stomach. The arousal is too much to ignore. My cock is aching. An actual pain is throbbing in my shaft from the lack of attention.

“Alaska,” I moan.

“I know, Honeybee,” he growls, his fangs long and sharp, waiting to sink into my flesh. “I’m going to give you what you need.”

He rushes to bathe himself in record time. I’m leaning against the wall, stroking myself, dying to come, dying for him to fill me. My hole flutters. More slick spills from me and drips down my legs.

I whimper, holding a hand across my stomach. The pressure helps.

“Alaska.” His name is one of desperation leaving my soul. A new sweat breaks out over my body. I thrust my hips, my cock waving in the air, seeking friction. “I need.” I cut the sentence short when a moan escapes me.

“I know, Honeybee. Me too,” he growls.