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Eredin whimpered in his sleep, subsiding when Brían tightened his arms around him. He’d always been a cuddler, but it had increased hundredfold since he’d been freed from the White Hunt’s clutches, going from inclination to need.
It hurt how he followed Brían’s touch even while unconscious, like he couldn’t bear not to feel Brían everywhere. Had he really gone over a millennium without friendly touch? He’d had his soldiers, but if they’d all been under the mask’s thrall…
Eredin whimpered again, burrowing impossibly closer. Brían kissed his temple, tangled their legs, and let his tears soak into Eredin’s hair.