Chapter 3 #2
Looking to the sun, then back to his mate with a frown, Luka extended his right wing, stretching it over Ruger’s head and curling the tip to shade him as they walked. The shifter didn’t comment, but Luka detected a grin in his profile, indicating he welcomed—or at least, indulged—the gesture.
On the other side of the bridge, Ruger slowed to match his stride and drifted closer, his arm lightly brushing against Luka’s with every step. He didn’t speak but instead provided a quiet, steadying presence that felt like a soothing balm to his frayed soul.
Nearing the front of a rustic cabin with a bright red door, Ruger reached into his pocket and removed an ornate key. “I don’t think your wings will fit through the door.”
Luka nodded and rolled his shoulders back, gritting his teeth against the ache as he retracted his wings. It had never been a comfortable process, but they had been unsheathed for so long, this time, it was truly painful.
“You must be hungry.”
Honestly, the thought of food hadn’t crossed his mind at all, but he wanted to make his mate happy. “Do you have bread?”
“I’ll order us some.” Unlocking the door of the cabin, Ruger pushed it open and motioned him inside. “It might be a while. Do you want to take a shower while we wait?” At Luka’s frown, he chuckled and shook his head. “Sorry, I keep forgetting how new this must be for you.”
New, yes, but he didn’t consider it bad. Just confusing.
“Do you want to bathe while we wait?” Ruger clarified.
Ah, now he understood. Not ideal at that time of year, but at least the lake water wouldn’t be bitingly cold. Besides, he had endured worse.
Still standing on the covered portico, he started to turn but stopped when Ruger grabbed him by the wrist.
“Where are you going?”
His brow creased as he glanced between the lake and the shifter. “To bathe.”
Though the hint of a smile still played on his lips, Ruger sighed and pulled him across the threshold into a spacious sitting room with lavish furnishings. “Come with me.”
Ruger led him past a padded settee upholstered in dark, plush fabric and an artfully carved table with a glass top. Instead of candles and lanterns, the room was lit with glowing orbs that hovered near the ceiling, and on the far wall, a strange black mirror reflected their movements.
He had never seen magic like it before, and frankly, it made him a little uneasy.
They passed through a bed chamber with gleaming floors and a four-poster bed covered in thick blankets fit for a king. Ruger might not have the arrogance or pomp of nobility, but he clearly came from a wealthy family to be able to afford such luxurious lodgings.
The last room they entered looked like nothing he had ever seen before.
A ceramic chair with a hole in the center. A glass cage. A recessed basin built into a wooden cabinet.
He didn’t recognize any of it, nor could he begin to guess their purposes. Still, he trusted Ruger. The male had said he didn’t mean him harm, and he believed that promise.
“This is a bathroom,” Ruger explained as he opened a door on the glass box and reached inside. “It’s where we take care of our hygiene needs. This—” He pulled a metal lever, causing water to spray from a pipe extending from the tiled wall. “—is a shower.”
Luka stared in stunned silence for a long time, studying the way steam spiraled off the water, despite no obvious heat source. “What kind of magic is this?”
“Not magic.” Returning to his side, Ruger took both of his hands and pulled him toward the shower. “Just clever engineering.” With deft fingers, he untied the coat from Luka’s waist, letting it fall to the floor. “Come on. I promise you’ll like it.”
He pulled back and shook his head. Yes, he trusted Ruger, but it was all just too much. “I will bathe in the lake.”
Silence stretched between them, but it didn’t feel tense or combative. They simply existed in the same space, Ruger meeting him where he was without argument or demands.
Then, without a word, Ruger toed off his shoes and began to undress, peeling away layers of clothing to reveal a toned, muscled body.
A quiet, possessive growl rumbled in Luka’s chest and echoed around the room as he drank in the view. Apart from a nest of dark curls at his groin, he appeared completely hairless, creating a smooth, unmarked canvas of sun-kissed skin.
Gods, he was stunning, the most glorious sight Luka had ever seen. Heat flooded his veins, and his prick swelled, jutting from between his thighs where it throbbed to the frantic beat of his pulse.
When Ruger stepped inside the enclosure beneath the spray of water and held his hand out, Luka hesitated for only a moment before following after him.
The rush of warm water felt amazing, but it couldn’t compare to the feel of Ruger’s hard body pressed against his. Overcome both physically and emotionally, he wrapped his arms around the shifter and dragged him close, bending to bury his face against the side of his neck.
Trembling with the effort of restraint, he breathed deeply, hoping Ruger’s scent would calm him, ground him. Instead, it only stoked the need that burned inside him.
But Ruger didn’t pull away.
He wrapped his arms around Luka, a contented purr vibrating in his throat as he caressed his back in long, languid strokes.
For a long time, they stayed like that, holding onto each other as they swayed gently beneath the water. Neither of them spoke, communicating only in soft touches and quiet rumbles.
Once Luka had regained a modicum of control, he lifted his head and leaned back just far enough to look into Ruger’s eyes. There was no fear, no judgment. Rather, he found only understanding and desire shining back at him from those amber depths.
It felt surreal to be not only stared at but actually seen. Not as a monster. Not as something vile. But as someone worthy.
As someone who mattered.
He bent closer and hovered there, waiting, hoping. Ruger didn’t disappoint.
Closing the distance, his mate brought their lips together, the touch soft and tentative. When he didn’t recoil, Ruger kissed him again, firmer this time, more insistent.
Luka growled his approval and clutched at the male, digging his fingers into the velvety skin at his hips. Desire seared through him, molten and consuming. By the gods, he needed him, craved him.
It went beyond the mere physical, though. A deep, dark part of him wanted to possess the male, to lay claim to him. He wanted to drown Ruger in his scent, to mark him, brand him from the inside out so that no one dared to take what belonged to him.
“Mine.”
The sound of his own voice, deep and guttural, startled him, but Ruger only smiled and lifted his arms to wind them around Luka’s neck.
“Mine,” he echoed. “You are mine.”
They came together again, the previous hesitancy now replaced by a deep, feral hunger. They ate at each other, mouths crashing and tongues dueling. Their hands roamed and groped, pawing at slick skin with desperation rather than coordination.
His cock throbbed, hard and aching, pulsing in with every thunderous beat of his heart. He rocked his hips, sliding the length across the hard muscles of his mate’s stomach, seeking more friction.
It felt amazing, but it wasn’t enough. His low growl filled the enclosure, vibrating off the glass as he spun the shifter around and pressed him against the tiled wall.
Ruger groaned and arched his hips, pressing into him as he blanketed his mate’s back and peppered kisses across his shoulders. Gods, he was gorgeous, achingly so, and the scent that poured off his skin was dangerously addicting.
Sliding a hand over Ruger’s hip, he palmed his rigid shaft, growling as he stroked him from base to crown. His mate shuddered, and his head fell forward, a volley of animalistic noises spilling from his mouth as he fucked into Luka’s fist.
With his free hand, he fumbled blindly at the bottles on the corner shelf, searching for something—anything—to help ease the way.
“This one,” Ruger panted, plucking a small bottle filled with thick liquid from the shelf. “Hurry.”
Only too eager to comply, he coated his cock with the gel and slicked Ruger’s entrance with the excess. Then he lined up the head and pushed inside, breaching the tight ring of muscles, and nearly choked.
So tight. So fucking hot. Ruger’s inner walls squeezed around his length, sucking him deeper into his silky channel.
He tried to start slow, to give his mate time to adjust, but every breathy moan and throaty growl tripped him closer to the edge.
With one hand braced against the wall, the other gripped around Ruger’s hip in a bruising hold, he pounded into him, pistoning his hips as he drove them both toward completion.
“Fuck!” Ruger roared, his fingertips clawing against the tiles. “Harder. I’m close, Luka. Fuck me harder.”
He drove forward, thrusting into his mate with an intensity that bordered on violence, but still, Ruger begged for more.
The room filled with the sounds of their coupling—growls, groans, and barked demands—their movements growing clumsier as they neared the pinnacle. Hovering on the edge, ready to fall, Luka tangled his fingers in his mate’s hair and jerked his head to the side, exposing the slope of his throat.
Ruger didn’t resist. Rather, he relaxed into the touch, offering himself freely, and Luka roared as he struck hard and fast, embedding his canines into the supple skin.
The first splash of crimson over his tongue made his head spin. The second sent him reeling. And the third pushed him past the point of no return.
Straightening, he roared in pleasure when Ruger whipped his head around and bit into his shoulder, leaving his own mark. Staking his own claim.
Fire raged through him. Heat exploded in his chest. Time slowed. The world tilted.
And then he was soaring.
Wrapping both arms around his mate, he buried himself to the hilt and stilled, shuddering as he spilled himself until he had nothing left to give.
Ruger trembled against him, and his head fell forward, a low moan falling from his lips as he followed after him, painting the wall and floor with his own release.
“Holy fuck, that was intense.”
Lingering in that soft, floaty place, Luka grinned. “I do not think there was anything divine about our coupling.”
"Agree to disagree.”
Gods, he had never thought he’d have this. He’d never had the audacity to think he deserved it. Now that he’d tasted what it could be like, though, there was no going back.
Ruger was his. Completely. Irrevocably.
And he’d fight the gods themselves to keep him.