Swiftcurrent Creek whats comes next,

A tear—felt rather than seen, as his forehead remained to hers in an attempt to ground the moment—stirred a sharp inhale from the man. Once more, a murmur that he was a good man—that he must be so. Eset had whispered as such to him, or similar words, not so very long ago—and to his mind also drew Moonwoman, a quirk to her lips as she asked if he was wicked.

It was hard to accept such a graceful compliment when it seemed the majority of his doing had done nothing but let down others.

A proclamation given, then, when she pulled back to look at him—what could only be taken as an utterance of allegiance. “Promises, promises,” he murmured back to her, the quirk of his own mouth tilting upward at the laugh that escaped her.

In truth, he would never ask for such devotion—should anything ever occur, he wanted nothing more than the safety of those within his home.

Never again.

Testing the salve, the Mayfair rolled his shoulder back—silence hanging between them a moment as he considered. “You decide where you feel you need to be. But if it’s on the first patrol—we leave soon.”

More than ever, it was impertinent to ensure the safety of the creek.

While he had placed the decision to her end, his eyes swept over her once more—eyes tracing the emotion that still seemed to cling to her. “What can I do, Morwenna?”