Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Navin
For over a year, I’ve had a box of supplies in my closet, waiting for a day like today. A day when I might suddenly find a mate and need to be prepared to take care of her.
Every one of us has what we need to care for a female in our cabins. Gathering the necessities was one of our top priorities when we finally discovered this location in the mountains and settled into the logging business.
I’m grateful for thinking ahead as I gently clean my mate’s soft skin with a warm washcloth and mild soap. I’m careful around her injury, and I take my time.
It’s no hardship staring at her body. She’s perfection. When I’m done washing her, I decide to spread her legs and shave the tight curls from her pussy. She’ll be diapered for the time being. I want to keep moisture away from her skin as much as possible to prevent her from getting an infection.
Her pulse is stronger since I claimed her, but she’s still completely unconscious. It’s easier this way. Being careful with her injury, I position her knees wide and remove her pubic hair without her fretting over the simple act.
My experience with humans and females is limited, but I’m aware that they can be modest and uncomfortable with their nudity.
My girl isn’t likely to be pleased when she finds out I’ve seen her naked without her consent, but it can’t be helped, and a part of me isn’t sorry that I have this opportunity to stare at her soft curves and admire every inch of her while she’s completely relaxed.
I’m careful as I shave her pussy, forcing myself to focus on my task and not get distracted by her scent and the view of her pink folds.
When I’m finished, I take far more time than necessary to examine my mate. My cock is harder than it’s ever been as I part her labia and lift the hood from her clit. The little bundle of nerves is a darker pink and wet even in her unconscious state.
I mustn’t continue down this path. There will be time to explore every inch of her inside and out later. For now, I need to get fluids in her and nurse her to health.
From my bin of supplies, I remove a diaper and ointment that will protect her tender skin. She’s so out of it that she never flinches while I apply the cream and wrap her in the soft absorbent material.
I shift my attention to the wound on her thigh. It’s no longer bleeding. I’m impressed with how well I stitched her, considering the fact that I was high on her pheromones at the time.
Deciding to leave the wound open to the air, I gently wrap my mate in a blanket and lift her, cradling her against my chest. I know she’s average-sized for a human, but she seems so small in my arms.
Careful to support her head, I use my free hand to dig out a bottle and a container of powdered formula. Keeping her tight against me, I head for the kitchen, prepare the bottle, and then settle in my recliner to feed her.
At first, my Little mate’s lips don’t move when I drag the nipple over them. She gives no indication she’s the slightest bit aware of her surroundings. I’m not surprised, but I’m hoping I can coax her to suckle instinctively. It would be preferable to inserting an IV, but I will if necessary.
Eventually, I decide to squeeze the nipple, causing a few drops of formula to land on her lips and drip into her open mouth.
My heart lurches when her little tongue flicks forward to lick the drops. I take the opportunity to slip the nipple into her mouth and jiggle it a bit, causing more of the formula to leak out.
A tiny whimper escapes her lips as she wraps her tongue around the nipple and begins to suckle. I’m so pleased, I’m grinning as I watch her. I’d give anything to see her eyes, but it might be a while before she opens them.
My mate makes precious sounds while she eats, little moans of pleasure as she sucks harder. She’s probably starving or at least extremely thirsty, and her body knows it even in its unconscious state.
Suckling is instinctive for many species, though the act is not something she would have engaged in past infancy. Nevertheless, she remembers, and her body is doing what it needs to survive.
The fact that I’ve claimed her is affecting her, too. Her body is aligning with mine. Even if she doesn’t awaken for some time, she will begin to crave my touch and scent. She will nuzzle into me and learn to trust me to care for her. It’s how nature intended.
I watch as her mouth moves, her plump lips so pink. When I lift one of her hands, she curls her fingers around my pointer. It’s shocking how tightly she is both figuratively and literally wrapped around my finger. I can’t wait to find out what her name is and see her smile.
When the bottle is empty, she whimpers again as though distressed. Is she still hungry? It’s possible. I have no idea when she might have last eaten or had a drink, but I don’t want her tummy to be so full that she gets sick.
Her little mouth keeps suckling even after I remove the nipple, so I stroke her lips with my pointer and let it slide between them, allowing her to suck on my finger.
Fuck, she’s precious. My heart is hers already. Being careful not to jostle her too much, I rise again and head back toward the bedroom. My girl’s face scrunches when I remove my finger from her mouth, but a few seconds later, I locate a pacifier and pop it between her lips.
I’m gifted the most contented sigh as she resumes sucking, her body relaxing against my chest as I snuggle her closer.
As a lion shifter, my body temperature is higher than hers, so I’m keeping her warm.
She’ll always find comfort in climbing onto my lap or snuggling against me when we sleep.
She’ll never be cold as long as I’m nearby.
Every inhale draws her into me, endearing her to me more with each passing moment. I know nothing about this Little mate of mine, and yet I already adore her.
There are a million possible problems here. I’m grateful to see that she isn’t wearing a human wedding band. That’s promising. She has on no jewelry at all. Her ears are pierced, but she isn’t wearing earrings. No necklace, ring, or bracelet.
Maybe she doesn’t wear much jewelry, or maybe someone stole it from her. I lift one of her feet to examine it closer. Her nails are trimmed but not painted. Her soles are soft. She absolutely wasn’t running in the woods. There isn’t a single cut on the bottoms of her feet.
Her hair is thick and reaches past her shoulders, but it’s been trimmed recently.
My mate may have been hungry enough to guzzle down her bottle, but she hasn’t gone without food before today. She’s not emaciated or gaunt.
Her skin is soft. She isn’t wearing makeup, which is unusual for human females but not unheard of. Maybe she hadn’t put any on yet today or doesn’t care for it. She doesn’t need it. Her lashes are long, thick, and dark. Her cheeks and lips are pink.
The more I look at her, the more stunning I realize she is. I can’t resist pulling the blanket back a few inches to see her soft breasts and tummy. I recall there’s no evidence of sexual assault between her legs, so whoever cut her didn’t force themselves on her today.
I’m baffled. Nothing adds up.
Bundling my mate up closer to my chest, I resume watching her suckle the pacifier. It’s keeping her calm, which I’m grateful for. I don’t like the thought of her being in distress.
After a while, there’s a knock at the door, and I carefully rise, keeping my Little girl bundled close to me as I stride toward the front of the room. I’m not surprised someone has come to check on me.
I open the door to find Quinn on the porch. He takes one look at my mate and smiles. “So it’s true.”
I nod, a grin spreading across my face.
Quinn chuckles. “She’s okay?” He keeps his tone barely above a whisper, which I appreciate. “I heard she was badly injured.”
“She’ll recover. She needs rest and nourishment,” I say softly.
“Good. We’ll keep things running while you tend to her. I just wanted to check on you and let you know. Don’t worry about a thing.”
“Thank you.”
Quinn turns and jogs down the steps, heading across the clearing.
I didn’t let him get more than a glimpse of her. He saw her hair and perhaps her profile but nothing else. Suddenly I feel fiercely possessive. It’s unexpected. As lion shifters, our species isn’t known for worrying about nudity.
Though none of the twelve of us are mated, we all remember life within our extended pride from before we left to establish our own separate pride.
Our mothers and other females were not particularly modest. Perhaps they were at some point in their lives before they were claimed and mated to lion shifters, but that would have been decades ago.
Over time, they stopped being concerned about their exposed breasts.
Weather permitting, females in our extended pride would often be found shirtless.
For reasons I can’t understand, I don’t feel inclined to expose my mate to any of my brothers. I’m not interested in exposing even the soft swells of her breasts. Her body is mine. Mine to worship. Mine to protect. Mine to conceal.
As I head back into the house and shut the door, I return to my bedroom to rummage through my supplies. I find a soft shirt and set it aside. I’ll put it on her before I accept visitors or take her from the house.
For now, I’ll enjoy her skin against mine. We’re alone. I don’t intend to put her down anytime soon.
As I return to my spot in the living room, I can’t believe my good fortune. Sure, I have a million questions, and I’m worried about the answers, but one thing is clear. This petite female is my mate forever and always.