She can't ever get enough of touching him. She meets that kiss with her own ferocity, eager hands reaching for him, pulling him close.

She's not thinking about the bite anymore. She's thinking about how good he smells, summer rain falling on forge stones. She's thinking that a hundred years in exile was a small price to pay for the privilege of being right here, right now.


And then she's not thinking at all, she's kissing him and he's kissing her back.