“So. Maybe you and I could . . . not go home together?” The words hung in the air between them, as fine as spun glass and just as fragile. Marra waited for him to say something, to catch the words or shatter them, whichever he chose. “I think I’d like that,” said Fenris. Marra sagged with relief. She had been so focused on what he might say that she hadn’t quite expected what he might do. So it came as a surprise when he wrapped both arms around her and put his lips against her hair. “I think I would like that very much,” he murmured. “Oh good,” said Marra against his neck. And then she would
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