Chapter 17 #2
Maeve’s frowning pout on his behalf was precious, making him want to kiss it away. Yet, he realized it was time he admitted one more truth, one that was far more important for her to understand. He couldn’t quite give up her touch, though, and held her hand to his face to keep it a little longer.
“It would have happened eventually,” he explained. “I was always reviled within the pride.”
“That’s absurd! You’re nothing but kind and hardworking and—”
“You’re sweet,” he rumbled, pressing a kiss to her palm. “But that is the way of it for those with lukan. Angry beasts.”
Her frown turned curious, her head even cocking to the side as she considered his words. “They truly shunned you because of that? But you didn’t have a say.”
No, he didn’t. But for unfortunate souls like him, their fates were sealed the moment of their birth. “Lukan are feared, considered aggressive, violent. They are killers.” He squeezed the hand he held, forcing the next words out. “I proved my nature the moment I was born. I…killed my mother.”
Maeve reared back, eyes going wide.
Soren continued through gritted teeth, going for his own jugular. “They say lukan are born in blood and always crave it. So it was for me. I’ve spent my life controlling my turuk, but it’s always there.”
“Because it’s a part of you,” she insisted. Soren’s eyes went wide in surprise, and she nodded determinedly. “I’d be angry too if I was your turuk, being treated like that.”
“Ah, kam-kala,” he sighed, “you have it turned around. The lukan caused their hatred.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“It is the mantii—”
“No.” Leaning forward, Maeve pressed her mouth to his in a quick, fierce kiss. Her gaze was just as ferocious as she said, “None of that was your fault, Soren. None of it. You were a baby and they should have loved you no matter what. So fuck them.”
For the first time in his life, his turuk held perfectly still.
He gasped to hear her swearing so vehemently, especially on his behalf. His ears almost burned with residual shame, unused to hearing an erēz and pride talked about so. Even his brothers who left with him didn’t speak so. The erēz had been Balar’s mother, after all.
“Maeve…” He didn’t know whether to be touched or appalled or something else.
Righteousness made her fierce and even more beautiful. Hopping up, she shed her blanket and cup to climb into his lap, legs straddling him. Soren received her in shock, although his hands seemed to know what to do, arms coming around so he could secure her to him.
“I hate that they did that to you,” she said, voice heavy with rage. “You didn’t deserve that at all.” He received another hard kiss. “You deserve only good things.” More kisses. “Only good things.” Kiss kiss kiss.
His turuk was purring before him, and words quickly fell away to more and more kisses. Soren happily followed where she led, amazed that she could even look at him, let alone touch and kiss him after his admissions.
He couldn’t quite believe what she’d said, nor even that she’d said it, but that mattered less than having her in his arms. She was a determined little thing, holding his head steady by his mane so he had to receive her affection.
She demanded he pay attention to her, listen to her, and Soren was more than happy to comply.
His hands soon lifted from her flanks to curve over her backside. Fingers sinking into the plush flesh, he drew her even further into his body, needing to press every inch of her to him.
There was nothing quite like the feeling of having her against his bare chest, her heartbeat keeping time with his own.
It gave him ideas, desires—like what it would be to entwine their naked bodies together.
His purr grew deeper with the thought, and he savored how her exploring hands followed the sound.
She tasted sweet, especially from the cider, her kisses more forceful than usual. It was as though she meant to make him believe her through force of will, that enough affection could convince him. Soren doubted he’d ever be swayed, but then, he didn’t begrudge the effort.
Other than Balar defending him within the pride, no one had stuck up for Soren since his father had passed. He’d since learned it was easier to take it than fight, that resisting risked unleashing his turuk, and Soren knew he couldn’t bear the consequences of what it—what he might do.
To be told the problem lay not with him but those that shunned him…it was an intoxicating idea. One he didn’t dare entertain. But Maeve was nothing if not a compilation of every dangerous thought and desire he could ever have.
She only added to them when she lifted her head but a breath to demand, “Take me to bed.”
A groan left Soren’s lips as he sifted his claws through her hair. Eventually, he used that grip to urge her back again. He nuzzled her nose with his in consolation before whispering back, “Not because of that.” The last thing he wanted was her pity, for it would taint all of her touches.
She shook her head, her expression growing fierce again. “It’s not that,” she promised. “I just want you.”
Ibás, but she knew how to tempt him.
When he still didn’t give in, Maeve set her mouth to his ear. “Take me to bed, Soren.”
He shuddered at the sound of her voice, seductive and commanding, fierce and sultry. Enket at inan, he was doomed and damned and happy to be both.
With a rumbling sigh, he wrapped his arms around her and took her with him as he stood. Maeve chuckled, letting him taste the laughter in her kiss as he maneuvered them back to the bed. He lay her down gently on the rumpled bedding, admiring the sight of her there.
Keep her here, always, said his turuk.
The ultimate temptation, indeed.
Before he could climb in alongside her, her dainty foot landed on his belly. His hand unconsciously took her ankle, thumb rubbing the thin skin over the bone as she drummed her toes along his abdomen.
“No kilt.” Her brows lifted in an expectant arch, a goddess daring him to defy her.
His heart skipped a beat. This intoxicating, dangerous woman. She knew exactly what she asked for and knew he’d give it, too. He hesitated for a moment, conscious that his kilt and her shift were the last barriers between them, the final guards against consummating this feverish flirtation.
Even still, he dared loose the leather, letting it slip down his legs.
His chest puffed and purred while he watched her admire him. A coy smile teased her lips as she bit her nail, taking her time to observe his naked form. Soren just stopped himself from preening, but he couldn’t help a small flap of his feathers.
She’d felt most of him already, including the insatiable cock already bobbing between his thighs, but hadn’t seen all of him. Standing before her bare was its own kind of spiritual experience, as was watching her bare herself to him.
Wiggling on the bed, she lifted her hips and slipped the shift over her head.
Off it went somewhere, he didn’t see—not when there was his goddess to venerate.
Bathed in moonlight, she was all beguiling softness.
Everything invited him to touch; her flushed cheeks, her gold-spun hair, her supple skin, the rounded curve of her belly, and feminine flare of her hips from the curve of her waist.
Although he’d held and licked them before, he’d never seen both of her perfect, pert breasts bare. Tipped in budding pink nipples, they were enticingly plush, a perfect handful…or mouthful.
Holding his gaze, Maeve slid her hands down her sides, over her hips, and down her thighs. Her legs began to part, but before that, she lifted her arms to him, welcoming him into the cradle of her body.
Soren was powerless against her.
He came when she called.
Planting a knee on the bed, he levered himself over her and down into her sweet embrace.
Her knees fell to the sides, making room for him, and their bodies slid into place against each other.
His hissing exhale cascaded down her chest as he drowned in the sensation of her.
Connected from chest to toe, it was almost painful how perfectly they fit together.
Hips flush, her wet heat teased the underside of his cock. Gritting his teeth, he moved down so that their heads aligned and sought more kisses. It was safer that way, less of a chance to—
“Come back,” she pouted. “I want to feel you.”
Soren’s chest contracted as all the air left him in a groaning sigh. Burying his nose in her hair, he grumbled, “I don’t think I could stop myself if I do.”
“Exactly.” The minx bestowed a nipping kiss on the underside of his chin before reaching between them, questing fingers seeking and finding his cockhead. He already wept for her, and his cock jumped at her touch.
“Maeve…” There would be no going back. The turuk would consider her theirs even more than it already did. Any parting would be excruciating. No, it was better to leave the mate-bond unfulfilled however much possible, if only for their own survival. He couldn’t bear—
In his distraction, she slid a leg around him and in a swift maneuver, flipped them. He could have resisted, really; the differences in their bulk was marked. Still, she was proving over and over again that he was weak when it came to her.
He stared up at her in surprise and awe. Leaning over him, she planted both hands on either side of his head, her golden hair falling around them in a fragrant curtain. An impish grin that he desperately wanted to taste teased her lips, and he loved how arrogant and pleased with herself she was.
“I want you, Soren. It’s that simple. Now, do you want me? To do this with me?”
Ibás, she cut straight to the heart mercilessly.
“Maeve, I…”
“Yes or no, Soren?”
Inan, zi-se des. “Yes.”
Her smile widened, encompassing his whole world. “Good.”
One more kiss was his last chance to avert the heartache he knew he was destined for, but he didn’t stop it, couldn’t stop her.