[A/N: In which Sky and Martin get down to it again... so 🙈]

Martin leads me upstairs by the hand, shy and sweet. He takes me to the larger bathroom, where a huge claw-foot tub occupies most of the floor.

"I found it at a garage sale," he says. "I don't use it very often — it takes too much water — but I feel I'm due an indulgence tonight."

"Or several, I hope," I say, as he starts the taps. "What would you like me to do?"

He glances up at me, and despite his recent tears and turmoil, a mischievous smile teases the corner of his mouth. "Undress, to start."

Slowly, I obey, removing my clothing piece by piece. He mirrors me until we stand in our underwear. Coyly, he turns as he slides his briefs off his hips and steps free of the garment, standing naked and facing away. I shed my last covering as well, and move to stand close at his back. "May I touch you?"

He shivers as my breath tickles his shoulder and the side of his neck, but he shakes his head. "Not yet."

Moving to the side of the tub, he steps into it and settles at one end, then holds out his hand to me.

"You won't turn into a fish, will you?" he teases.

"Not unless you want me to," I return, joining him carefully at the other end of the tub.

He smiles. "No. Your mer-form is beautiful, but I think this shape will do."

We sit in silence then, waiting as the tub continues to fill. When the water reaches the overflow drain, Martin shuts it off. Wordlessly, he reaches for a soft cloth from a nearby stand and begins to wash himself, slowly and gently, almost with a lover's touch, as I watch. When he finishes, he hands the cloth and soap to me and watches as I do the same.

There's something ritualistic about it, almost sacred, and something tells me this is more than just a bath to him.

When I'm done cleansing myself, he shifts and moves closer, turning to rest his back against my chest. We lie like that, hardly moving, until the warm water begins to cool.

At last, Martin rises, shedding water as he stands, pulls the rubber bung from the bottom of the tub, and steps out. He grabs a towel and hands me one as I follow him, and looks at me with clear, dark eyes.

"That's the past." He nods to the sudsy water slowly disappearing down the drain. Then he steps closer, arms encircling me in a light embrace. "This is the present. And here's to the future," he says, and kisses me.

"To the future," I agree, lips moving against his as I speak. "And to a life of love in the here and now."

〜〜〜

In his bed, I lie on my back, looking up at him. He'd combed the tangles from my hair with exquisite care, never once causing pain, and I understand that this is the sort of touch he longs for — the sort that conveys not only desire, but the respect and tenderness of which he has so long been starved.

I had returned the gesture, running a broad-toothed comb through his dense dark curls as they dried into charming corkscrews. Then, wordlessly, I had reclined upon his bed, covering myself from hip to thigh with the thin sheet, and signaling that the next move is his.

"How do you want me?" I ask, when he merely stares. "I'm yours for the taking, Martin."

"I'd rather make love than take it," he says quietly, the bed dipping as he sits at my side.

A grin stretches my lips, and I flex my arms above my head, luxuriating in the ease of water-warmed muscles. "Alright. 'Make love' with me, then. Show me how you like it."

His eyes widen a little, then go dark, and a shiver of anticipation goes down my spine as he embraces the power I've placed in his hands.

"As you wish," he whispers, returning my own words, and wets his lips.

〜〜〜

We're already half tumescent from the close contact and the promise of pleasure, and with a bit of gentle teasing, we're both at full mast.

We let instinct guide us, and when I submit myself to him, he hesitates only briefly before taking full command.

He fucks me; and if before I'd judged him as less than well-endowed, I quickly change my mind. He may not be in the top percentile for length, but he's thick and hard, and plenty long enough as he hits the spot inside me that pulls the breath from my lungs and makes me moan into his pillow like a proper bitch.

When he comes, I come, and together we fall in a breathless, sweaty tangle of limbs.

He's still inside me, and still hard, and a little gasp escapes me as a bolt of pleasure, like an aftershock, shoots through my core.

"Sorry," he whispers near my ear, still breathless with exertion as he holds me from behind. "It's been so long... I forgot."

"Forgot what?" I ask, shifting experimentally and then gasping a second time as the same sensation hits me again.

"I'm a Wolf. And you're my Mate. And it's my first time with you... like this."

"So?" Now the heat within me begins to build once more, and tingles of pleasure tease my softened length towards another erection.

"We get... It's called 'tied.' Um... Wild wolves, when they mate, they get... stuck."

I laugh. "Oh, lords. Are you saying we're knotted? That's real?"

"Um... Well, not the way... not like..."

"No pun intended, I'm sure."

He huffs. "I mean not like in books. It's not just Alphas. It's any Wolf. Even me."

"Hmmm," I push against him a little, and smile as he gasps in turn. "Round two, then."

〜〜〜

In the morning, I wake to sunshine, the love of my life's embrace, and the aftermath of bliss.

Well, Martin's arm is draped across me, he's snoring in my face, and I've got a sore ass, but close enough.

The sunshine part is true, and either way, he's adorable.

I lift myself a little and kiss the bridge of his nose. With a snort, he awakens and blinks at me blearily.

"Good morning," I say, and smile.

He wrinkles his nose. "Merman morning breath smells likes fish," he mumbles.

I grin cheekily. "I could tell you what Wolf breath smells like, but I think you know."

He grimaces and rolls his eyes at me as he sits up.

"What time is it?"

"No idea," I say, stretching lazily. "Six or seven, by the light."

"Where's my phone?"

"Wherever you left it, I'm sure."

Reaching for him, I try to draw him back to bed, but he's already up and getting dressed.

"I don't want to leave the kids with Noah too long," he says. "I promised to pick them up by eight."

"Martin..." I sigh with resignation and then smile. I love this side of him, too, and I know that, bathing rituals aside, the past doesn't simply wash away, and we have to take things slow. He's allowed himself more freedom in the last twelve hours than in the past ten years. "Very well. What would you like for breakfast, my dear?"

〜〜〜

To his great consternation, Martin's phone does not make an appearance all morning. I offer to let him use mine, but he declines, explaining that his brother rarely answers any number, much less one he doesn't know, and he doesn't recall Ambrose's off hand.

After a quick meal of eggs, buttered toast, and fresh coffee, we make the short journey across town to the grand old mansion in which Martin's brother resides with his mate.

Oddly, it seems we're not the first to arrive, and Martin's older brother Dane, the Alpha of his pack, stands on the lawn speaking with Noah and Ambrose with his arms crossed. His mate — the lithe, Fae man with purple eyes — stands a little to the side, speaking with Flora, Rio, and Nico.

As Dane and Noah turn to look at us and their expressions widen with shock, I remember what Martin told me about Wolves knowing when another Wolf had found a mate, and move a little closer to his side protectively.

Martin, though, is oblivious to this, and has eyes only for his children, the number of whom appears to be one short.

"Noah? Where is Miguel?" he asks, quickening his pace as we draw near.

The Alpha moves to intercept, blocking his path.

"Martin. We've been trying to reach you," he says. "I'm afraid I've got bad news."