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357 pages, Kindle Edition
First published March 18, 2021
Love. That was what he felt, he knew; the sort of slow-built, sustainable, devastating love he’d never hoped to have.
“I want to keep you safe. I don’t want to have dragged you through the wilderness, at the mercy of the clans, just to prove a political point. I don’t—I don’t want you to be cold, or sick, or miserable, or in danger of being eaten.” He shook his head, and his voice cracked. “I am afraid, every second, that you will decide none of this is worth it.”
“You’re afraid that I’ll decide none of this is worth what?” he asked, softly.
In the smallest voice that Oliver had ever heard from him, he whispered, “Me.”
Bjorn’s love—and it could only be called that; deny it all she liked, she knew that was the emotion burning in his gaze—was a savage, nearly-violent thing. A starving, hungry, desperate love, one he kept in check, kept tamped down low, from sheer force of will.






“A king for a king,
A throne for a kiss,
When the dragons sing,
The throne shall be his.”

"You can call him?"
"If I truly have need of him, he will come. But he doubtless doesn't want to sit attendance on a council meeting. Boredom makes dragons hungry, you know."
"You are, as ever, an utter delight."

“You,” he said, completely unable to keep that warm fondness from his voice, “are so incredibly sweet.”
He felt the subtle jump of Erik’s body against his own. “That’s… not something I get accused of.”

Oliver melted. He was flying, flying, but Erik had him; Erik wouldn’t let a bad thing touch him.
“I love you,” he heard himself say, words pressed to a sweat-damp temple. “I never thought… Gods, I love you. So much.”
The gentle press of Erik’s teeth at his throat sent him over the edge, and everything was white, and blue, and wonderful.

“If I get killed, it won’t ever be because of something you did or didn’t do. And I’m not leaving, not even for a dragon”– he smiled –“because I love you. Even when you’re a pompous ass. Even when you worry too much. Even,” he added, gently, “when you’re afraid.”
Erik’s eyes widened an impossible fraction. He drew in a ragged breath.
And then he gripped Oliver’s hair and kissed him savagely.

But his lips were soft when he pressed them to Oliver’s temple – and left them there. Quietly, but seriously, he said, “I have meant it every moment of the day, and I have tried to show it in the ways I know how. But I know I need to say it, too. I love you. So very much.”
Oliver fell asleep with the pad of Erik’s thumb brushing a tear from his cheek.


Leif said, “I’d tell you you look half-dead, but that might be a compliment, I don’t know.”
A flicker of a smile. “Hm. Trust me when I say that it does pain me to admit that there might be a shred of cleverness in you, Torstanson…”
Leif rolled his eyes. Sickly or not, Náli was still very much his annoying self.

“Maybe Southerners aren’t as soft as you think.”
That earned a grin. “Or maybe you’ve got more of the North in you than you know.”
A beat. Oliver said, “You could make a very terrible joke out of that.”
Bjorn stared at him a moment, and then roared with laughter.
“You don’t need me to fight: you need me to think. And, not to brag about it, but I do happen to able to communicate with dragons, and I’m fairly sure none of you can do that. So. Do you want one more set of strong shoulders? One more sword and a bawdy joke around the fire? Or do you want a dragon rider back in the North once more?”

5 'winter' stars ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
4,5 'I needed more Erik & Oliver' stars ⭐⭐⭐⭐/⭐["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>





