Nose of a wolf was a funny thing. Turned out you could smell damn near anything, assuming you could make sense of it. Certainly added an air of excitement to things, when you didn't even need to look or share a word to know they were frightened.

But Elaine wasn't frightened. Not — exactly.

Oh, he understood it. Rush of blood to cheeks and toes and southward places. Heart aflutter. Thoughts scrambled into dizzying bliss at the slightest of gestures. Spring had come, the world was saved, they'd faced a deadly adventure together to come out the other side (mostly) unharmed.

Hard not to fall in love, over something like that.

But Elaine wasn't in love, either. Or at least, not in the way a fae would describe the word. Infatuated, maybe. Caught up in the whirlwind of a fairy friend, the newness of revelation and freedom, the promise of fables made flesh.

She was right, they shouldn't be pretending.

He was ageless and terrible and strange, so perhaps it was lingering cruelty inherent in his blood to have allowed them progress this far, without a word on his own behalf.

You shouldn't think of yourself in such ways, Gancanagh, or you'll make them true, he reminded himself.

Which begged the question. What did he want, really? What had a hundred-hundred lifetimes taught him about a moment like this, or what could come after?

Deep blue eyes lingered on her figure, soft and sleek and elegant. Apricot scent, homey, fit to put you at ease. She had a heart so big he struggled to fathom how it fit in her form. Was stubborn, too — a trait he was fond of for a multitude of reasons. She'd be easy to get lost in.

He held still while she did her healers work. Lip quirking only a little over the occasional twinge of pain... something soft and nearly sad crept into his features.

...You're right. He answered, finally. Things are different. If she moved to meet his gaze, he wouldn't waver. But Snowbird, they tell those stories for a reason. And I like ye too much to go around breakin' your heart.

Callousness was a choice he discarded. For his hundred-hundred lifetimes, Elaine had only just the one to fall back on. So he swallowed, and tilted his head, and gave a quiet whine. Sincere even if chosen deliberately. I can change the shape I take, but what I am remains the same. While I'm here, I intend to ply me trade at lovemakin'.

Did she understand? His body wasn't sacred, and neither was his bed. Loyalty and exclusivity were distinct in his mind. Sometimes mortals understood. But many times they did not. The ones he'd come to help would need every inch of him, and so he couldn't bargain himself to a singular soul. No matter how beautiful and bright.

None can have me heart if they're not willin' to share it with others in kind. So if it's a one an' only you're hopin' for, a singular ear coiled back, I'll sorely disappoint ye.