14. Lyra
14
LYRA
T he day flows like honey - sweet, languid moments stretching between my duties. At breakfast, Theron's massive hand brushes mine as he passes the bread basket, sending sparks racing up my arm. During Mira's lesson, which I've started helping her with, I catch his amber eyes watching me from across the room, the intensity of his gaze making my cheeks flush.
Evening settles over the manor, and I slip into the library to return a text on cardiac conditions. The scent of leather-bound books and aged paper wraps around me as I navigate the towering shelves. My fingers trail along the spines, searching for the right spot.
Heavy footsteps echo behind me. I turn to find Theron filling the space between the shelves, his broad shoulders nearly touching both sides. The lamplight catches the silver rings in his horns, casting dancing shadows across his face.
"I thought I might find you here." His deep voice rumbles through my chest.
The tension between us has been threatening to overwhelm me. I spend more and more nights talking to him. More and more days stealing little touches. And I am desperate at the point for more.
"Just returning this." I hold up the book, my hand trembling slightly.
He steps closer, and I lean into the shelf behind me. His black fur gleams with that subtle silver sheen as he lowers his head, bringing those striking amber eyes level with mine, and I know he feels it, too.
Maybe he's finally giving in.
"Lyra." My name comes out as a growl that makes my breath catch.
I reach up, letting my fingers sink into the soft fur at his neck. He shudders at my touch, his massive hands coming to rest on either side of my head.
"Tell me something," I whisper like it's every other night and we are sharing stories.
"Anything." His eyes shine bright like he means it.
"Am I wrong?" I move closer, pressing into his chest. "Or do you feel this, too?"
It's a risk, but I've been waiting for so long. I tried to hedge around it, I tried to tell him that this feels like home for me to see how he would react. But now, I want to take my chances.
His response is to close the remaining distance. The first brush of his lips against mine is achingly gentle, as if he fears I'll shatter. I press closer, rising on my tiptoes to show him I won't break. His arms wrap around me, lifting me effortlessly until we're properly aligned. The book tumbles forgotten from my grasp as I wind my arms around his neck, letting my fingers tangle in his fur.
The kiss deepens, and I feel the restraint in his touch - the careful way he holds me, the measured pressure of his lips. I nip at his bottom lip, drawing a startled grunt from him.
"I've felt it from the first second that you entered my home," he whispers against my lips.
Theron's lips trail down my neck, each kiss a spark igniting my skin. "I want every taste of you, Lyra," he growls, his voice a low rumble that sends a shiver down my spine.
"Take it," I whisper, tilting my head back to expose more of my throat. His lips curve into a smile against my skin, and then he's lifting me, cradling me against his chest as if I weigh nothing. The library blurs around us, the scent of old parchment and leather filling my senses as he carries me to the couch tucked in the corner.
He lays me down, the cushions soft beneath me, and then he's standing over me, his amber eyes gleaming with hunger. His hands, massive and gentle, skim over my body, undressing me with a patience that makes my heart pound. Each layer of clothing falls away until I'm bare beneath him, the cool air of the library raising goosebumps on my skin.
"You're perfect," he murmurs, his gaze roving over me like a caress. I reach up, letting my fingers trace the silver rings in his horns, drawing him closer.
"Show me," I say, my voice barely a whisper.
He starts at my lips, kissing me deeply before trailing down to my jaw, my neck, my collarbone. Each touch of his lips sends a jolt of pleasure through me, my body arching into his touch. When he takes one nipple into his mouth, I gasp, my fingers tightening on his horns. He sucks, teases, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak until I'm writhing beneath him.
"Theron," I breathe, my voice a plea. He answers with a low growl, moving to lavish the same attention on my other breast. My body is on fire, each touch of his lips, each flick of his tongue stoking the flames higher.
He kisses every inch of my skin as if it were sacred ground, trailing down past my navel, his hands gentle but firm on my thighs. I spread them for him, opening myself up completely. He pauses, looking up at me, his breath hot on my most intimate place.
"I want to taste you here," he says, his voice a low rumble.
"Yes," I manage to gasp out, my heart hammering in my chest.
He lowers his head, his tongue flicking out to taste me. I cry out, my hands flying to his horns, holding on as he licks and sucks, his tongue delving into me, exploring every fold. He finds my clit, sucking it gently into his mouth, and I see stars.
"Theron," I gasp, my hips bucking against his mouth. He growls, the vibration sending waves of pleasure through me. His hands grip my hips, holding me steady as he feasts on me, his tongue fucking me, his lips and teeth teasing my clit.
I'm riding his face, my body moving with a mind of its own, chasing the pleasure only he can give me. His horns are solid and warm in my hands, anchoring me as I spiral higher and higher. My orgasm hits me like a thunderclap, my body convulsing, my cry echoing through the library. He drinks it all in, his tongue gentle now, coaxing every last tremor from my body.
When I finally come down, my body limp and sated, he looks up at me, his lips glistening with my release. His eyes are dark, hungry, and I know he's not done with me yet.
I look up at Theron, my breath still ragged from the intense pleasure he's already given me. His amber eyes burn into mine, a question lingering in their depths. I know what I want, and I'm not afraid to ask for it.
"I want all of you, Theron," I say, my voice steady despite the pounding of my heart. "Every part."
A low growl rumbles through his chest, his massive hands clenching at my sides. "Lyra," he starts, a hint of caution in his tone.
"Please," I beg, reaching up to cup his strong jaw. "I want you to take me. Completely."
His eyes search mine for a moment, and then a wicked grin spreads across his face. It feels like the first time he's really letting down on his walls with me. "I want nothing more."
I reach down, my fingers fumbling with the laces of his pants. He watches me, amusement flickering in his eyes, but he doesn't intervene. When I finally manage to loosen them, my breath catches. I can't do anything but stare at his cock. He's huge, and for a moment, doubt flickers through me.
Theron chuckles, his grin widening. "Don't worry, Lyra. I'll make sure you enjoy every inch."
I look up at him, determination replacing doubt. "I know you will"
He raises an eyebrow, a challenge in his eyes as he drags me closer to the edge of the couch. Spreading my legs wider, I guide him to my entrance, feeling the heat of him against me. He pushes in slowly, stretching me inch by inch. It's painful, but the pleasure underlying it is intoxicating. I gasp, my nails digging into his shoulders.
"That's it, Lyra," he murmurs, his voice strained. "Take me in."
He slides in deeper, filling me completely. I can feel every ridge, every vein of him as he slowly starts to move. Each thrust is deliberate, intimate, as if he's claiming every part of me.
"Theron," I moan, my legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer.
He leans down, his forehead pressing against mine. His breath is hot on my face, his eyes locked onto mine. "You feel incredible, Lyra," he growls. "So tight, so perfect."
His pace quickens, each thrust deeper, harder, but never losing that intimacy. I can see the restraint in his eyes, the effort it takes for him to hold back. But I don't want him to hold back. I want all of him.
"More," I demand, my voice barely a whisper. "Give me more, Theron."
A shudder runs through him, and then he's giving me what I want. His hips move faster, his thrusts becoming more intense. But his eyes never leave mine. This isn't just about pleasure; it's about connection. It's about us.
With each movement, I can feel the depth of my desire for him. It's not just physical; it's emotional, a yearning that goes beyond the here and now. I want him, all of him, in every way possible. And as he moves within me, I know that he wants the same.
Theron's rhythm becomes relentless, his massive body driving into mine with an intensity that steals my breath. Each thrust sends waves of pleasure crashing through me, my body clenching around him, desperate to hold onto this feeling forever. His hands are firm on my hips, holding me in place as he claims me completely.
His amber eyes bore into mine, the connection between us electric. There's a raw power in his gaze, a primal dominance that sends a thrill down my spine. I've never felt so taken, so consumed by another person. And yet, there's a tenderness there too, a silent promise that he's mine as much as I'm his.
"Lyra," he growls, my name a rough caress on his lips. His hands slide from my hips, one gripping the couch for leverage, the other snaking up my body to tangle in my hair. He pulls gently, arching my back, exposing my throat. His teeth graze my neck, a possessive gesture that sends a shiver through me.
My hands explore his body, tracing the hard lines of his muscles, the soft fur that covers him. I can feel the tension in him, the coiled power ready to snap. His pace quickens, each thrust deeper, harder, pushing me closer to the edge.
"Theron," I gasp, my nails digging into his shoulders. "I'm close."
A wicked grin spreads across his face, his eyes darkening. "Come for me, Lyra," he commands, his voice a low rumble. "Let me see you fall apart."
His words are my undoing. My body convulses, pleasure exploding through me like a wildfire. I cry out, my vision whiting out as I ride the wave of ecstasy. Theron's grip on me tightens, his thrusts becoming erratic. With a final, powerful drive, he finds his own release, a deep groan echoing from his chest.
We stay like that for a moment, our bodies pressed together, our breaths ragged. I can feel his heart pounding against my chest, the rhythm matching my own. As the haze of pleasure begins to clear, I'm left with one thought - this was more than I ever expected. More intense, more consuming, more... us.
Theron's lips find mine, a soft, gentle kiss that contrasts with the wild passion of moments before. He pulls back, his eyes searching mine. "You alright?" he asks, a hint of vulnerability in his voice.
I smile, my hands cupping his strong jaw. "More than alright," I say, my voice steady despite the pounding of my heart. "That was... incredible."
Theron helps me dress with the same tender care he showed in undressing me. His massive hands, so capable of destruction, smooth my wrinkled clothing with gentle precision. We share one last lingering kiss before parting ways in the corridor.
In my room, sleep evades me. I trace my swollen lips, remembering the press of his against mine, the way his fur felt between my fingers. The memory of his touch burns through me. My body aches in the most delicious way, but it's my heart that feels the fullest.
I roll to my side, watching moonlight paint silver patterns on my wall. Three months ago, I arrived here as a healer, determined to help a sick child. Now I can't imagine my life without Mira's bright laughter or Kai's gentle spirit or Theron's quiet strength. Every morning spent teaching Mira her letters and reading with Kai, every evening sharing stories with Theron - they've woven themselves into the fabric of my heart.
My fingers find the dried herbs braided into my hair. My mother always said a healer's heart must be as open as their mind. I never understood until now, lying here, realizing I've fallen completely in love with this unlikely family.
Dawn breaks too slowly. When I finally open my door, something catches my eye. There, on the floor, lies a single rose. Its petals are the deep crimson of the bush we've been nurturing together in the garden - the one Theron claimed would never bloom again. I lift it to my nose, breathing in its sweet fragrance.
The thorns have been carefully removed, but one tiny leaf remains attached to the stem. I recognize it as the same leaf I pointed out to him last week, explaining how its unusual shape meant the plant was finally healing. He remembered. Of course he did.
My heart swells as I cradle the rose. This isn't just a flower - it's a promise, blooming against all odds, just like us.