Chapter 25 #2
“Indeed,” he laughed. Dropping his lips to kiss her hair again, Soren said, “Whatever comes, Maeve, know that I will stand beside you.”
Her arms slipped around to hold him tight. “I’d like that very much.” Tilting her head back, she smiled up at him, and Soren didn’t need more invitation. He met her expectant lips in a sweet kiss.
It’d been barely two days without holding and tasting her, but it’d felt much longer. He savored every texture and scent, every nuance and color. They were at the beginning, the two of them, and beginnings were always obscure and intimidating.
No one but seers knew what the future held, but that was all right. Soren chose not to be afraid, for he had too much to look forward to.
Perfection truly was sitting in a puddle of sunshine, a warm rock beneath him, as his chatty, content mate fussed over him.
He’d never known such simple pleasures before Maeve but didn’t think he could do without them ever again.
He didn’t even mind the sharp tugs on his mane as she deftly worked her little comb through it, plucking out each burr and foxtail.
“Good grief,” she laughed, “who actually won this battle—you or the brambles?”
It was a fair question, given how many tangles and scratches he now wore, but Soren was happy to confirm, “I’ve won.” He wasn’t used to it yet, but there was no doubt that today, he was a victor in all things.
“Well, these things put up quite the fight. I think gloves are in order next time.”
“But then I couldn’t use my claws.”
“Hmm.” Leaning over his shoulder, she snagged one of his hands to turn this way and that.
Soren couldn’t help a grin, besotted with the feel of her pressed to his back.
He sat patiently as she considered his paw, pretending to look out over the vast blue lake before them.
After finding their feet and setting right their clothes, Maeve had lamented how dirty they’d gotten and decided the thing for it was a jaunt down to the lake.
Making good on his promise, Soren followed her anywhere.
The afternoon sun was perfect, warm but not too hot, and a cool breeze sometimes teased them off the water. It was a blissful way to spend the rest of his day, his toes soaking in the water while the rest of him soaked up sunshine and Maeve’s attention.
“I wonder if we might make some with a small hole at the tip of the finger,” she mused. “For the claws to go through.”
“You are very clever, inaná,” he purred.
“Just looking out for your poor forearms,” she laughed, giving one a pat. “I’m quite fond of them, you know.”
She might’ve mentioned it before, and Soren wasn’t above putting his paws on his knees as she went back to combing, showing off his forearms to the best effect.
Soren closed his eyes as her pleasant chatter and the warm sun lulled him into complete serenity.
Every now and then there was a tug, but it was always followed by a cooing apology and kiss to his cheek.
Honestly, he was starting to look forward to each snarl she found, but she was already an expert in teasing out tangles—she’d had to do it enough times at school that she’d begun carrying a small comb and various other little tools in one of her deep pockets.
Coming around to work on the side of his mane, Maeve explained the confrontation that’d happened the night before with her sister. “You should be very flattered, darling. Imogen and Sorcha were ready to defend you to the bitter end from wicked little me.”
Although he’d been purring softly this whole time, a louder one burst from his lips. “Darling?” he repeated.
“Darling, sweetheart, my big strong lion-man,” she said. “Which do you prefer?”
He rumbled with consideration. “I like darling. My big strong mate isn’t too bad, either.”
“All right, then.” Leaning down, he received a lingering kiss on his muzzle. “My big, strong, handsome kigara.”
That earned her an even louder, deeper purr, and she accompanied it with a joyous, tinkling laugh.
“You should be flattered, too, kam-kala. Akila and Diar have been disgusted with me since the first day. Even Kiri began to lose his patience.”
“Well, it’s nice to hear my family will defend your honor and your family will defend mine,” she giggled.
After one last tiny tug, Maeve declared, “I think that’s all of them.”
The next thing Soren knew, she’d wrapped her arms around his shoulders from behind, hooking her chin over his shoulder.
“You’re really sure about this?” she whispered.
“I am,” he reassured her. “Nothing has felt more right to me.”
“I just don’t want you to come to regret it.”
Turning his head, it was his turn to kiss her cheek. “I promise you, should I ever have even the beginnings of a regret, I’ll tell you. All we can do is be honest with each other and choose each other each day.”
Her sigh puffed warmly in his mane. “You’re right. And I do, I do choose you, Soren.” She squeezed him tightly to emphasize her point. “I don’t know what the future looks like, but I want you in it.”
“That’s all I wish,” he purred, nuzzling her temple.
He let her soak up his reassurance, but after a time, he couldn’t resist tugging her into the curve of his body. Sitting her down between his legs, he plucked the comb from her hand.
“Now it’s your turn.”
“Are you saying I look terrible?” she asked with mock offense.
“Never. Just that I wish to comb your mane, too.”
Some of the play fell from her face, but thankfully, it was replaced by a look of genuine feeling. She was touched that he wished to do so. Soren hoped to convince her soon that it was one of a myriad of gestures, comforts, and duties that were her due, as kigara.
He took this seriously, careful not to tug one golden hair from her head.
Carefully pulling out the ribbon holding back about half of her hair, Soren worked diligently, sifting through every lock.
He’d suspected already, but that afternoon confirmed she loved his claws gently scraping her scalp, and so when each section was brushed, he rewarded her patience with soft kneads and scratches.
Unsure if she knew she did it but not caring either way, she began to hum as she sat there under his ministrations, a lovely little tune that somehow captured the warmth of the afternoon.
Soren didn’t dare interrupt. Instead, his combing kept time to her song, his purr adding a harmonizing layer.
When he finally declared, “Finished,” it was quietly, with a reverent kiss to her shoulder.
Sweeping her glossy hair over the other shoulder, Maeve peeked at him and winked. “Well, that clears up the tangles. Now for the other bit.”
He didn’t quite know what she meant, and he couldn’t help a pout when she stood and stepped out of the circle of his arms. However, his attention was quickly snagged by her hands reaching for her stays.
To his astonishment, she undid the ribbons and slipped out of her stays, her skirts, her shift, and even her underthings. In just a few moments, she stood before him utterly naked, every beautiful inch of her bare and glowing in the sun.
With an impish smile, she turned and ran into the lake, shrieking at the coolness.
His gaze transfixed on her backside, and he wasn’t too proud to admit he sat there stupidly for a long few moments, utterly mesmerized by the sight she made.
Happy and playful, she sloshed through the water up to her hips before turning around to beckon him in.
It was surreal, ridiculous, but Soren could never resist her.
Rising to his feet, he pulled off his ripped shirt, unbuckled his belt, and unknotted his kilt.
Piling his clothes beside hers, Soren waded deeper into the water, a buoyant feeling of gratitude and joy filling his chest. Even when she splashed him right in the face, he only grinned wider.
His mischievous mate whooped and laughed, ready to start a splash duel. She was quick and ruthless, his Maeve, determined to soak him before he soaked her. His paws were bigger but she was faster, and soon, she’d drawn him out to where the water was up to his waist.
Maeve paddled around him as lithely as a siren and just as alluring. Ducking and diving, she had him turning every which way. Soon it was a game to catch her, and she evaded him for a long while, slipperier than an otter.
But Soren was just as resolute to have her. The turuk rippled beneath his skin, delighted in the chase. “Don’t start what you can’t finish, eremi,” they warned her.
A flick of water hit his ear as she blew defiant bubbles on the surface.
He finally caught her by feinting left but lunging right, his arm wrapping round her middle.
He reeled in his wriggling, laughing mate, securing her to his chest to take his prize.
His mouth found hers in a greedy, playful kiss; she tasted fresh like the lake and warm like the sun, vital and invigorating.
Maeve’s legs wrapped around his waist and her arms around his neck. Soren felt and tasted her smile as she coaxed his tongue to tangle with hers, drawing him into her mouth. Wrapped around her, surrounded by her, immersed in all that she was—it was right where Soren belonged.
They eventually scrubbed each other as best they could, but most of that afternoon was spent floating along the lake, kissing as the sun tracked across the sky.
His cock stood at attention and his purr never ceased, but all Soren wanted was another kiss, another teasing nip of her lips and delicious slide of her tongue.
When dusk began to settle over the lake, it was Soren who decided it was time to dry off. With his mate stuck to him like a limpet, he walked from the lake, water sluicing off them both.
Neither relished putting on their dirty clothes, but he did talk her back into her shift at least. Up the shore, he made a small fire while she collected berries.
They shared the berries and a few fish he caught and roasted over the fire in a small supper that ended up the most satisfying meal of Soren’s life.
The soft darkness of night crept upon them, but both were loath to leave. As they lingered, little green bursts of light flickered through the trees, growing in number until it was nearly as bright as dusk again.
Together, they watched the display of fireflies, charmed as the little lights wove amongst the trees and flowers.
“I don’t want to leave,” Maeve whispered, and so Soren made a nest for them—fragrant pine boughs and soft moss, cushioned by their clothes.
When it was done, he brought his mate to their forest bed, his turuk purring contentedly to have her in this primal, visceral way.
He would sleep with her in his arms, keep her warm with his body and wings, just as he would in the ancient savannahs.
As the fireflies flashed and the lake lapped at the shore, Soren sat in their nest, holding his mate steady as she took him inside her.
Maeve bit her lower lip, swollen from an afternoon of kisses, as she descended, her face pinched with pleasure.
He purred for her, so content, so exultant, he could hardly contain it.
So slick and ready for him, she needed but two strokes for him to ease his knot inside her. They groaned together, sharing breath as their bodies rocked. Her fingers sank into his mane, and Soren came where she bid, losing himself in her desperate kisses and the rhythm of her hips.
He didn’t know how many times he peaked that night—perhaps more than there were stars in the sky.
All he knew was Maeve, her sweetness and heartbeat, her boldness and scent.
Soren took all that she gave him and in return, he gave her all he was and would be.
For that’s what it was to be kigara—all and everything.