Chapter 18
Miranda and her insane objectives, I would battle another day. I had a war to win, and she had her part to play. Positioned as she was in our society—a veteran hybrid—she could exercise the influence I lacked. From the dangerous gleam in her eye, the ethereal blonde would see it done.
Not just her.
Each of the ranked women before me would implant a female embryo in their womb, and together, we would do our best to manipulate the males into treating us with respect.
Force them to view us as more than chattel.
We’d show them we were more than precious mates kept in pretty cages. That we were capable. That we could be unflinching. That we were willing to do something terrible in an effort to make the world a little less dark for our sisters and children.
Truth be told, I envied Miranda and her cronies for their age and experience. Those women had lived. Possessed years to consider motherhood—to consider this strategy for decades, maybe centuries, that I had been roped into after only days. Each of them aware of exactly how the world worked outside the academy.
Functioning from a place of almost-perfect ignorance, too young, there was a very real chance I would disappoint my child.
I certainly lacked real-world experience.
Inviting a daughter into this existence for dubious reasons did not make me a great example of motherhood. Demanding every female hybrid Miranda could reach to do the same marked me as worse.
My desire to see my sisters rightly educated might condemn an entire generation of little girls to hell.
And already, I was terrified.
And excited.
And oddly hopeful.
I would not suffer this alone. Maeve was right. Hybrid women had to do this together.
The thought of new life, of hybrid life just like me, in my arms? I never so much as let myself daydream on the topic. But now? I wondered what she’d look like. How she would smell snuggled close to me. If she would coo and nuzzle at my breast.
And I shivered.
Would she love me as I had loved my human mother?
I already loved her—the simple idea of her—more than I might ever be able to bear. And would most likely murder Cyderial should he so much as think of taking her away.
A single thought of being parted from my child, and a storm of imagined violence churned within me, sweeping aside the gentler parts of my psyche. The vorec in me stomped back and forth, eager to have her way. Eager to disembowel anyone foolish enough to dare harm my child.
To indulge her would be to invite life to grow within me.
She whispered to me secrets, tempted me to allow my baser urges to rule.
I conceded.
Immediately, pressure began to build in my chest, sweat prickling over my brow to cool in the evening breeze. Low noise came next. Not a thrum, no pulsating drum to threaten all nearby. A low song.
My song.
Loud enough even I could hear its beauty.
A shiver shook me. Bones grew loose, tendons relaxing as I rolled my shoulders and hummed quietly to myself.
With a rapt audience, absolute attention from both men and women, I let all in that courtyard know I was true to my word.
The strangest sense of knowing came over me.
I knew my daughter’s life was sparking, waking….
A cramp undulated about my inflated belly, catching my breath, visible to all who stared.
Sniffing the air, lips parting as if they might taste, the women watched me as if mesmerized.
As if I were truly beautiful while half-mad with my strange humming, a few of them began to offer their own song. Like this, I could hear them sing. Understood what the men found so enticing.
“It is a beautiful thing to witness.” Miranda’s soft gaze fixed on me, her head cocked to the side, as if admiring a delightful weapon she might wield. “Your three generals approach. Speak with them before you are too far gone, my dear.”
The vorec in me had no interest in wasting time out in the open—she dreamed of a soft place to rest, imagined the scent of her offspring, called to her mate while she burned me alive from the inside.
Soft edges developed around my vision, the lights in the courtyard far too bright. A new, powerful urge demanded I go to ground. That I burrow.
And not just I.
A dark-haired, dark-skinned beauty to the left of Miranda’s elbow—her scent changed. A powerful, heady perfume wafted from her, filling the courtyard as her body signaled the work it had begun.
I watched her shiver and sigh, move as if popping every bone in her spine. One moment, she was docile, the next, hastening to her mate, who was rough with her in a way she clearly enjoyed.
He had her over his shoulder, racing off to see to her needs, while other females began calling to their mates, beckoning partners to claim all they offered—upsetting the gathering, the evening, and the tables.
Chaos grew, couples crashing together, all witnessed by the unfortunate unmated males who had no female to sing for them.
Skin growing so sensitive that even the thought of touch had my breasts aching, I took a stumbling step away from the table and almost wept in relief to find Cyderial’s strength meet my back.
He had come to me.
Hands to my arms, squeezing a bit too tight, he pressed his nose to my hair and inhaled as deeply as his ribs might stretch.
“The generals…” One touch of him and I did not feel at all like myself. He was the catalyst that would bring me to my knees, a necessary balm to a gnawing need growing deep in my belly. “They must give me their word.”
Groaning in such a way it seemed Cyderial suffered even more than I, my mate worked to restrain his own growing need, murmuring as his lips brushed my temple, “Demand your price, then you are mine.”
With the light growing too bright to tolerate, I faced the trio standing still in the chaos of partnering couples and overturned tables, far too close for my comfort.
Fair, stoic General Boreal and deviously smirking General Murdoch hovered near wherever I went, watching me with their unblinking stares.
General Aegir, silver hair gleaming, blinding, dared smile. Yet there was no joy on General Boreal’s countenance, and even foxlike Murdoch possessed no happiness in that smirk.
In a breathy voice heavily laced with song, I said, “As you know, Maeve has agreed to submit to General Thayer. She does this in full knowledge of what he expects and how it will alter her future.” Leaning into Cyderial, I melted, shut my eyes to the burning light, and knew a gnawing agitation to still be out in the open. “I will grow pregnant, and you three will keep your word to me. You will also keep your distance. You may not interfere with her rearing. I do not care how loudly her song may call to you; you cannot have her until she is fully grown.”
Trembling, I added, “When she is twenty-two, as I am now, she will choose which of the three of you pleases her most—assuming you hear her song. That male will have to earn her affection, as Cyderial earns mine. There will be no infighting or foolishness. Try to take her, and I will make you suffer.”
Looming terrible at my back, gravel in his voice, Cyderial threatened their very lives, “Give Lorieyn your word now, and be done with it—you will support her in gaining sexual education for our females, and you will back away.”
Far too intrigued with my scent to argue the finer points, daring to sup air, General Murdoch was the first to agree. “You have my support. But I will hold the baby after her birth, and updates on her progress will be given. If you wish me to court her, then her personality cannot remain a mystery. Do this, and I will not resort to other means to know my future mate.”
“Fine,” Cyderial agreed.
Fine? No. I did not and would not agree. No one but me would touch my child. Yet before I might hiss my strong disagreement, Cyderial’s palm slid over my throat.
Not in threat.
This grip was something very different.
Something led my eyes to flutter closed, urged me to tip back my head and forget arguing finer details with lesser men.
To trust him to handle everything. A reminder he would take charge now.
I had other work to do.
Important work.
Fiery work deep, deep in my core.
My mate snarled, “Aegir, Boreal, give her your word, or you will never know our child.”
“Of course she has my support!” Aegir sneered, cutting enough that I parted my lashes to find him showing teeth.
Yet, it was Boreal, voice rich with dissatisfaction, who dissented. “I hate you as much as I envy you in this moment, Cyderial. You have my support, but in flaunting this before me, you have lost my friendship.”
“I do not need your friendship. I need to remind you of your place.” Unfriendly, unkind, and aggressive, the male at my back bristled. “You may hear her song in this moment, but this one is mine. Lorieyn was always mine. She was mine all the years of her life. Mine when I lied to you about abandoning my search for a mate. Mine when I heard your sorrows and pretended they were my own.” The sharper edges of Cyderial’s voice softened. “Keep your friendship. I betrayed your trust. But you would have done the same were the roles reversed. Just as you would do anything for the daughter I will help her nestle in her womb.”
“Anything,” General Boreal agreed, but he stared with as much unhappiness as any male might now.
Parting my eyes to look upon the men was like trying to stare into the sun, but I needed reassurance. “Promise me next that each of you will keep her safe.”
Because that terrible fear could not be quashed, even by my growing fever.
All three vehemently gave their word with such authority, supremacy, and command that my lingering fear drifted away.
Daring a step nearer, practically buzzing, Murdoch thought to reach out and touch the swell of my belly.
It was Aegir who threw him back, grabbing the sinewy, dangerous man by the stuff of his coat and chucking him into the empty tables.
As they began to brawl, something inside me began fluttering, pulsating, the twinge driving me to tiptoe as I bore down on the plug. Panting, utterly distracted, I hardly noticed the snarling men, nor appreciated how it was an agitated General Boreal who urged Cyderial to carry me off. Who had retracted his friendship from my mate yet saw to my care before falling victim to his baser urges.
Gravity vanished, strong arms gathering me up to steal me away. Wrapping myself around my mate’s neck I found his scent delightful, offering a low, pretty hum from my breast so he might paint the air with more sweetness.
I gave that salty strip of flesh an eager lick. One taste of him and my insides fought wildly against the plug, shameless in their grinding squeeze.
It almost felt like climax, except it hurt.
And my whimper let him know.
Insides seizing, sweat on my brow, I tucked my face into Cyderial neck and whined, “Please, take me home.”
His driver had the vehicle ready, door open, so Cyderial might get me inside and out of the light. Almost immediately, we were in the air.
Nose to my skin, my hair, at my ear, scenting my throat, my mate was caught in his own fever. Encouraging whatever he found with a loud, thumping drum.
His sounds poured into me like a balm, so similar to the noise he battered against my senses the night I had been stolen and opened—insistent, visceral, pulsing through my bones in a way that made the discomfort turn into liquid pleasure.
Yet I grew more irritated with each passing minute.
There were unknown things I needed, but they were not within reach.
His car was not an appropriate place to do important work.
Thoughts growing fuzzy, skin burning, I tried to puzzle out my temper, barking at him to stop pawing me, all while rubbing against him like a vorec in heat.
Feverish, muddled, and growing exponentially more aggressive as the minutes wore on, I may have done some serious damage to the interior of his car.
Petulant, I didn’t want to be in a hover vehicle—the interior too hot and the remnant ribbons of my clothing too constricting. Had my belly not been hugely full already, I would have thought heat had come.
I starved.
“Comfort me.” The whine came out as if from another woman’s mouth, sulky, sullen, and very, very enticing.
Yet the tiniest flash of humiliation was enough to snap me out of my stupor. I found myself straddling and rubbing up against a very aroused male, whose clothing I had shredded beyond repair.
I may have been sexually forward with him in private, but never in this manner and never with such violence.
Yet, Cyderial was more than happy to keep nuzzling me, his lips at my ear. “You’re entering estrous, the condition necessary to awaken a child. It will compel you, drive you to construct a nest, and then you will demand that I fuck you, often. Be as vicious as you wish. There is nothing to be frightened of, my love. Hurt me as much as you want to. Tell me what you need.”
It was obvious what I needed, yet he continued to remove my hand from the pulsating swell contained in his trousers.
We could have been mating right there in the car. I could have sunk my teeth right into his flesh, but he dared flip me over, so my back was to his chest. Dared to press my wrists together and hold them captive in his grip, as I hissed at him to let me go.
Chuckling at my ear, he nipped the lobe hard enough I yipped. “We are almost there. You cannot have me until your work is done.”
The vehicle landed, and the door opened to chilled night air. The wafting breeze did nothing but enrage me.
Disgust me even.
Cyderial tried to pull me from my seat, to lead me by his grip on my wrists to the door of his home, but I set my teeth and braced.
The place was all wrong, and I told him so. Beating my own internal drum in a tempting purr so he might come back to me in the tight confines of the hover car.
“Cyderial—” I gave him the smile of a starved, eager female. “—I told you to take me home.”
Closer to the earth, where it would be dark and warm, where fog might trip over my tongue.
His pretty house was not my home. It didn’t smell of damp nor swelter when the weather was perfect. There were not enough dark corners nor secluded spaces.
All of it was so human.
The condition coming over me wasn’t human in the slightest. Animal drive demanded I find the perfect dark cave.
Calling to my mate, I felt more vorec than I ever had in my life. “My little room with my little bed. I need my pink rock and my secrets. I cannot stay in your gilded tower.”
At my words, his pupils began to dilate, green eaten up by black. In words rough and guttural, he warned me, “If you choose to build your nest at the academy, you will not be inclined to leave it until our child is born. Are you sure you do not wish to stay here?”
Frustrated that he told me to tell him what I needed, then dared question my request, I lost my smile, I lost my purr, and I lost my patience. “There is no fog here! It’s too far from the ground. The air smells wrong. Need I go on?” How could he not understand I wanted what I wanted, and he had to give it to me? “Fuck me on your office floor, if that is what it takes, but I cannot stay in this wrong place!”
Purring as he poured himself back into the car, he eased over me, promising, “I have soft things there that I gathered for you, just in case. A room full of my scent, where I have slept for the last ten years. The door locks soundly, and it is dark and quiet.”
Yes, that was what I wanted. Nodding, I smiled, relieved when the door shut and his weight pinned me down to his now-torn seat.
The vehicle descended at record speed, the pair of us weightless and entwined in the freefall. The landing was soft, the driver careful.
Yet even through the wall between the cab of the vehicle and the flight deck, I could hear the soldier notify the academy of our arrival, warning Cyderial would be in“the rut.” Demanding that the halls be cleared for recruit and instructor safety, and authorizing lockdown to follow our arrival.
I was no threat to anyone, except perhaps Cyderial… who still refused to release my hands from his grip.
But he was already showing his teeth at the partition between where we lay entwined and the man responsible for our safe arrival. The sounds he made were animalistic, his movements jerky.
Rubbing my cheek against his, I said, “Take me inside. Feed me good things.”
Cyderial’s driver was wise enough not to open the door and remain safe in his cockpit, my general making no secret of his interest in violence toward the man.
And that excited me to the point a gush came from between my legs. Slippery and smelling of my need, it wet my thighs and his groin where I rocked against him.
Yet, still, I was plugged, what he had already given me sloshing from my jerking attempt to climax against his groin.
Breath caught, I achieved my goal.
The first time I had ever brought myself to release alone on purpose. But it was not enough. My slit swelled for want of attention, my insides undulating a squeezing pulsation around the waxy plug keeping me full.
Sounds fell from my mouth of unmet need and pleasure all at once. Whines and moans, hitched breaths, and velvet sighs.
Cyderial, fumbling with the door, still refused to release my hands. Payment for such treatment left my teeth catching his shoulder, where I bit down with all the force of my jaw.
He made such a sound when his blood flooded my mouth that I knew he was close to ejaculating. So I tore at the wound with my teeth, warning him that every last drop of fluid was mine.
I heard the sound of ripping metal.
Wet air hit my skin, the door torn clean off the vehicle, and out we went, my teeth still in the meat of him, my hands once again bound by his fist, and his arm under my ass.
I was carried inside like a prize, through unfamiliar dark halls, down lower into the bowels of the building, where even I had never dared explore. Despite the academy’s high-functioning filters, the air inside smelled of warm earth and growing things, of an unforgiving planet where the weak had no place. Of fog.
Yet that strong male, feared by others, would see I was protected in the dark.
There was nothing luxurious about the room he locked us within. But the sound of that lock was my life—my pure, perfect relief.
Someone had been wise enough to leave an offering in the scant time it had taken to plummet from the upper levels into the dregs. An assortment of fresh meats—still bloody and smelling like heaven—had been set on a side table near the entrance. Tempting enough I was willing to unlock my jaw and slide down Cyderial’s body, sighing my relief.
The dank, ugly space was perfect. “Yes, this is where I want to be.”
A utilitarian room full of sweet air saturated in the smell of my mate. Not a single window to be seen, yet I knew the fog was near all the same. Knew it rolled against the sides of the building, like waves in a sea.
It felt perfect.
Upon my relief, another wave of fluid ran down my leg, dripping on his clean floor. Yet still I was plugged, my stomach muscles rippling across my belly. But something was missing as my insides clenched and did not find what they sought.
On my whine, Cyderial fell to his knees before me. Nose to my sopping crotch, he breathed in deep, gripping my rear so he might hold me close.
Tatters of skirt were in the way of where his mouth wished to be, the fabric caught and pulled higher until he might swipe his tongue through the mess drenching my thighs.
Which left me rocking up to tiptoe, my head thrown back, when a sensation, unlike anything I’d ever known before, stole my breath.
Cyderial had fucked me many times in the weeks since he imposed my addiction, and always, the pleasure had been superb. This was something else entirely.
My nipples ached and tingled, my spine released with a series of pops, and my chest cracked out a noise that bounced off the walls with a dangerous instinctive call.
“Take out the plug!” I cried. He had to be inside me. To fuck me right there on the floor, the fresh meat be damned.
“No.” His reply was harsh like the glare he leveled me with when shock stole my attention from his metal ceiling so I might blink at the cruel man.
Shivering with a need beyond anything I might have imagined, I knew my body could not wait. “What?”
“You must build your nest first.”
Of course, a nest. What had I been thinking? A place where he might help me through the urge. Soft things needed to be precisely arranged. Layers of comfort I could roll around on, that he could fuck me on, that would be comfortable for what would take place between us.
What would take place between us? My body had certain demands, so much that I could see my belly rippling as more fluid ushered forth.
But that tongue of his was no longer slathering between my folds.
He was no longer kneeling but taking my fingers so he could lead me to his sleeping alcove.
Beside it, cabinets full of velvety soft blankets waited. Some fluffy, some thin as a whisper. Pillows full of color brought life to the dark cave of his rooms. Thrilled, I dove right into them, grabbing whatever my arms could hold—deeply pleased and eager to begin arranging them just so.
Cyderial’s apartment within the academy was truly small, perfectly proportionate in its cave-like arrangement. I climbed upon his mattress, arms full of blankets, and purred in delight to find it would be more than adequate for my needs. Pinks, silver, purples, teal, so many pretty colors and patterns he gathered for me over the years, and I spread it with joy.
In case, he’d said. And I laughed to myself at the mystery of hybrid men.
He waited patiently so I might perfect the dark corner. Brought more and more—handfuls of pillows and throws, his hands stroking and petting, releasing my hair from the mechanical device while I focused on the task at hand.
Bowl-shaped, lying in the midst of it, I would be surrounded by softness. I would be able to drape my body over pillows so my hips might open wider. Force him down in it so I might claw at his chest and take what I wanted.
My nest was perfect.
Absolutely perfect.
Never had I seen anything more lovely.
A bright rainbow illuminating drab, safe surroundings. So precious that I could have wept.
“It’s beautiful, Lorieyn.”
Some part of me more cognizant than instinct recognized what I was doing was strange. That my obsession with a specific tasseled pillow being placed just right was ridiculous, but I saw no point in denying myself. To be a hybrid was to live as a human, deny our second nature, and pretend to be something we were not. To be a recruit was to conceal one’s femaleness, to hide what we were behind ill-fitting clothing and austere expressions.
There were things about myself I wanted to explore and until I had been mated could never know.
But I knew this.
This need was me.
Nesting was part of what we were. How the men might call their homes nests was so incorrect. A nest could only be provided by a female, only when the circumstances were right. Any other consideration of the word was fundamentally wrong.
And that thought was important, that knowledge missing in young females’ collective understanding. “There should be journals about this.”
Hand pulling down the zipper at my back, he growled lowly at my ear, “Then you shall write one.”
The remainder of my bodice was parted so warm palms might run over my shoulder blades, the tattered dress slipping down my arms. Pooling at my feet, it was forgotten, Cyderial kneeling to remove my sandals while I stared at my masterpiece.
Naked before him, I let my gaze wander to his torn and bloody shirt. Noting how soft it was, how good it must smell, I demanded he give it to me.
I had just the place for it.
Then I demanded the rest of his clothing, realizing my beautiful nest lacked scent.
I knew just where to get what I needed. Brazen, my hand came to his stiff cock, catching the pointed tip so I might stroke its accordion-like segments from tip to base, growling deeply as my drumming enticed. “I want your cum on it.”
May he spray his fluid everywhere, so that, as I rolled atop my nest, I might find his scent in every corner.
He caught my wrist, his eyes rolling into his skull as he panted. Muscles in his neck straining, he threw back his head, and a beautifully perfumed bead of creamy fluid spilled from the slit of his spear-like tip.
This was different than what I had seen offered from him in the past. Enchanted, I asked for more. We moved my touch together over his straining, waving cock, as more came dripping, slippery and hot to ease the slide of my palm over his flesh.
The nest was forgotten as my knees hit the floor. Mouth open, I watched him spill a few more glowing drops of utter temptation.
I whined.
Salivated.
Breathless, he ordered me to “Lick.”
Yes. That was what I wanted. Despite my tight grip, his monster stretched toward my lips, drips of perfection dotting my tongue until his beast surged forward to fill my mouth, where the tip flared in warning that it would not be removed.
Shocked, whatever drug this new fluid was laced with filled my cheeks until I had to swallow or choke. Down my throat, it ran like thick syrup, the fire in my belly blazing into an inferno. To assure I took it all, Cyderial fixed his hand on the back of my skull, encouraging me with words of praise while I stared wide-eyed at the beast who finally felt my mouth on his cock.
And sucked for more.
His free hand, my hands, we worked him instinctively, until I grew woozy from lack of air. Yet I would have drank deeper had he not fisted my hair and pulled me away.
“Enough. Now you eat.”
Oh, I would eat all right. The flesh right off his bones if he didn’t get in the nest and fuck me until I screamed.
To punctuate my point, a wave of pure fire burned a line from my pelvis to my skull, the cry I made not one of pain but one of need. “If you do not put yourself inside me right now, I will never forgive you.”
I had drunk enough of him to be satisfied, my insides churning as spasms left me sagging to hands and knees. Distended belly dropping to the floor as my pelvis angled so he might enter, I presented, sad I was not on my nest but certain it had to be now.
Compassion was given. Cyderial scooped me from my fawning bow and laid me on my beautiful nest, spreading my legs as wide as they might go. With hooded eyes, I watched him climb over me, whimpering when the tip of his cock found my swollen slit.
I angled my hips to invite him in.
A flared, spear-like tip parted my entrance, worming its way inside.
That first stretch and I was already crying out something like a release. But it wasn’t orgasm. I wished it were, for it kept monstrously growing as he borrowed deeper.
This was where the plug would be impelled to loosen, where what was left in me would flood out over his slithering cock and leave a puddle beneath me to perfume my nest.
Hands to his perfect rear-end, I urged him to impale me fully and ease my need, but he remained half-sleeved, eyes focused as his squirming cock wriggled and poked.
Another segment made its way inside me, a strange stretch beginning to add a stinging prick to the ecstasy that left me bucking like one possessed.
The plug was not releasing. No flood of fluid was set free. Yet his cock was burrowing itself through internal muscles convulsing like mad.
Yet he worked another segment where there was no room.
“You’re so tight.”
As if to relax me, lips came to my mouth. A playful tongue engaged, but I did not want to play. I needed him to fuck his way inside me, rooted deep as he could go.
Clawing his ass, I tried to pull him into the cradle of my hips.
And was denied.
His mouth moving over mine, he tormented me soundly, ignoring my piercing talons, undulating just enough that I didn’t start snarling in frustration.
Another segment stretched my seam, tears coming to my eyes that he would not just rip through whatever barrier kept him out.
Angling my hips as if that might ease the pressure, I whined, “Why isn’t the plug moving?”
Another segment popped past my stretched slit, my breath hitching as I felt him snake his tip further than any plug might be. It was then I realized, Cyderial was not entering the channel where he filled me to satiate my addiction.
He was penetrating me somewhere entirely new.
Grunting, he panted from the effort not to shove deep. “The plug stays. You’ll need your fluids to make the slick required to ease me through the passage where I am needed.”
That night on his office floor, he had moved his cock into so many parts of my belly, stroking himself and puffing me up with his fluids. It had felt so similar to this, so unyielding.
How many hours had it taken him to do whatever he had done to push his sperm into so many different channels? Much of the memory was cloudy, intercourse since different.
This was not regular sex. His worming dick was working to help me, squirming through a dripping passage that opened specifically for estrous.
I could be plugged, fucked, and seeded all at the same time.
But I had no idea how to make the room.
It was impossible to relax, my body straining as it was, but I abandoned his ass to stroke my belly between us as he had done that night. Finding his cock bloated up by my swollen internal pocket, I stroked him through my flesh—through layers of muscle and unknown reproductive organs—and was rewarded with a deep moan from the male as he gained another inch.
That cock within me dared stretch long under my hand, his girth lessening as his spear dug somewhere new.
Slick squirted from me in a wave that left me swearing.
Another segment worked past my swollen lower lips.
Retracting his cock, he grew fat again, girthy to stretch me until I was wriggling from discomfort and climaxing all at once.
But it wasn’t a true climax. Another half-lived release brought only more sensation and greater building pleasure in the pain.
I could die this way, unsatiated and ripped in half where tender tissues would only allow him to travel so far.
Fervently, I rubbed my belly atop where his cock undulated inside my body, desperate for more.
Hissing, he took my ear between his teeth and bit the lobe hard enough to draw blood. When I cried out, he bit my throat, working a bleeding line down to where shoulder met neck. Warning me to stop or there would be greater pain.
But pain did something to the pleasure. It untwisted my guts; it opened me.
It was salvation.
When his teeth punched through flesh and muscle at my shoulder, his body arced over me and pressing forward, broke apart.
There was a stretching, pulverized part of me that finally let him in, several rings of tight muscles enclosing his cock, sucking him deep, and leaving me jerking uncontrollably under his weight.
With no concept of what part of me he had gained access to, I felt the plug still tight, felt the sloshing contents of my belly. And joined his dance while white stole my vision.
Growling where his teeth locked tight, he held my hip, and his pelvis pushed into the cradle of mine.
Fully seated, the perfect invasion.
I could not say my body welcomed it. It was essential to my survival yet invasive as he began to knot before my pleasure might break.
Orgasm left him violent, his cock battering against whatever it would, leaving behind an ache while also scratching an itch.
The knot strained the bones of my pelvis, the feel of my body trying to push it out contradictory to my need to have him deeper. But there was no more room.
Until my body gave way and made it.
Explosive contractions in my belly sent my nerves to sing, and finally terrible sensation peaked.
I came with a sob, still bleeding into his mouth, opening internally in ways I could not begin to fathom.
Perfection.
He flooded this open passage with that syrupy offering he left on my tongue. Thick and heady, his fluids eased the sting, softened a part of me that would not have been receptive to my child without his help.
Clinging to him, I welcomed it all, the madness ebbing just enough for me to press a kiss to his hair. Grateful he had not released my shoulder, hoping his extended bite would scar as my body knit around the wounds.
It was then I knew this was right. Full of the panting male, aching, in pain, and somehow feeling complete, I knew he was right for me.
My mate whom I was thoroughly addicted to. Who belonged inside me no matter the means he had found his way there.
I would have to forgive him.
I would have to admit to myself it was more than fondness for the male.
Despite everything.
We were one.
He was worthy.
Sighing against his hair, happy to receive all he might pour into me, I knew relief. With a smile, I purred, “Thank you.”
At that moment, I meant it in every possible way.
A surge of molten fluid rushed from him to fill me where a womb was being prepared, his rut nowhere near slacked… even if a moment of clarity found me in my estrous.
All animal, his only response was to growl lowly in warning that I would be wise not to move.
There would be no resisting him if I tried. The nest had been built, my body had opened, and now he would be compelled to fuck me until I was pregnant, whether I wanted him to or not.
I could have been frightened, but I was very pleased.
Enticing him with voluntary ripples of sucking muscles deep within, I found my vision going soft, certain I had the most perfect male in my nest.