I don’t know how many times I’ve said it—
She’s mine.

Not some passing crush. Not some occasional warm body to keep the forge from feeling empty. Mine. She’s the reason the fire in this place actually means something, the reason I built a cot in the back, the reason I come up for air when the smoke gets too thick.

And I sure as hell wasn’t about to explain that to some smug little thing with wandering eyes and a crush she didn’t know what to do with.

The girl had walked in once. Twice. This was the third time in a week. Always pretending to bring something—metal polish, questions about a saddle, some excuse to linger near my workspace and pretend she didn’t see my arm around the one person I gave a damn about.

This time, though?

This time, she walked in on me kissing my girl.

Not a chaste kiss. Not a passing peck. I had one hand in her hair and the other under the hem of her shirt, her back arching into my palm like the forge walls could fall and she still wouldn’t stop touching me. We were tangled up in each other—breathless, flushed, and halfway to ignoring the whole damn village.

And this girl? 
She stood there. And. Did. Not. Leave.

She smirked. Scoffed a little. Like she thought she had some kind of place in this room. Like she thought she could outdo the bond I’ve got with the woman who actually knows me.

Nah. 
Nope. 
Fuck that.

I looked her dead in the eyes. Didn’t blink. Didn’t smile.

Then I grabbed my girl by the front of her shirt and shoved her—firm but careful—right up against the nearest beam. The thud that followed was satisfying.

She gasped, startled, and then laughed. Her hands flew up to grab my shoulders but I was already on her—my mouth hot and hungry against hers, my breath harsh through my nose, kissing her like oxygen was a suggestion and she was the only thing keeping my lungs working.

She made a noise—one of those soft, needy ones that made my vision blur—and I pressed closer. Tongue. Teeth. Fingers tight at her hips, dragging her into the ridge of my pelvis, grinding just enough to make her squirm.

Louder. Messier. Deliberate.

“You like staring?” I rasped mid-kiss, lips still brushing hers. “Then fucking watch.”

I licked up her throat—slow, dirty, wet enough to make her shudder—and bit the curve beneath her ear. The girl behind us didn’t move. So I raised my voice.

“Still here?” I asked, breathless. “Then you’re gonna get a show. Or you can leave. Pick one.”

Toothless, perched above the rafters, let out a growl that made the walls tremble. Her dragon, resting nearby, rose onto its claws, tail lashing. Neither of them liked strangers overstaying their welcome.

“Ten seconds,” I muttered, kissing my girl again—this time just soft enough to contrast the bite. “And Toothless walks you out. By the teeth.”

The door slammed behind us a second later.

Didn’t even look. 
Didn’t care. 
I had better things to do.

Like taste her again.

Like make sure the only thing echoing in this forge was her voice—loud, needy, breathy with my name.