She'd understood. She understood now.
She turned back to the water and held out her hand toward the bank. "Blindfold," she said.
A beat of silence. Then Lucan produced a strip of dark cloth from somewhere, because Lucan always had something, and he waded in first, the water swirling around his thighs. He reached up and tied it carefully over her eyes, his fingers gentle against her temples, his purr running low and constant against her senses. The silk soaked in river water clung to her lashes like a fucking promise. His purr wasn't just sound; it vibrated under her skin, settling low in her belly where her swollen womb carried four cubs, fuck knew whose, didn't matter, they were theirs. His slick fingers tied the knot snug, plunging her into velvet darkness. "Good?" His breath ghosted hot against her earlobe, thick with that possessive rumble.
"Good," she breathed, the word trembling.
The world went dark and warm, and sensation exploded.
