Jason lay beneath Ylva, still joined with her, his chest rising and falling in slow, steady breaths. The fire had died down to glowing coals, casting a soft orange light across the clearing. Mae was still asleep nearby, her breathing deep and peaceful. The ant king stood at the edge of the trees, motionless, his black and gold eyes fixed on Jason with unnerving intensity.
But Jason wasn't looking at the ant king.
He was looking at Ylva.
Her face was pressed against his chest, her ear over his heart. Her fur was soft against his skin, her body warm and heavy. She was about to fall asleep—he could feel her breathing slowing, her muscles relaxing.
He had nutted inside her. Deep, the best unprotected sex he could have.
And in the quiet aftermath, his mind began to churn.
"I like her." Jason thought to himself.
No. That wasn't strong enough.
"I love her." Jason came to the realization.
