Damar reacted almost immediately. One moment, he was asleep, and the next, a powerful, scale-dusted arm had hooked around my waist.
With a low, guttural hum, he yanked me down onto the furs, pinning me beneath him before I could even squeak.
"Stay," he rasped, his voice thick with sleep and that lingering, possessive edge of the rut. He buried his face in the crook of my neck, right where the serpent mark was still warm and glowing. "Don't call me a lizard, Ari," he muttered, and it nearly sounded like he was sulking.
Oops, my bad.
"Alright, I'll stop. But can you get off now? We have to leave." I said, but he stayed still.
"The bed is warm. Why would we leave?"
I laughed, trying to push his heavy shoulders back, though it was like trying to move a mountain.
"It's because the kids are waiting, the food is getting cold, and I spent an hour roasting those tubers specifically for tonight. Come on, Damar. Dinner is ready."
