15. Emily
15
EMILY
I have to know how committed Stromm is to being mates, how far he’ll go when the going gets tough. Protecting me and our future children isn’t enough. I need to know he’ll keep himself safe, too.
Every muscle in my body is tense, every instinct screaming at me to take the question back, to let him off the hook so we finally get what we both want. What we both need.
But I can’t. I won’t.
He must accept the Rakuium ring. Not as a mark of failure because he’s no longer whole. As an expression of our love.
If he sees it as a crutch, if he lets it define his weakness instead of the strength of our bond, it’ll become a wedge between us. I refuse to live that way.
His eyes search mine, and I feel like he’s peering into the deepest parts of my soul. “I will do anything to be your mate.” His voice is low, rough, unwavering, his fingers holding tight to my waist. “Anything to fight for us.”
His declaration gives me hope. I take a deep breath, steadying myself, then hold out my left hand and uncurl my fist. In my palm rests the crudely carved band of Rakuium.
Stromm’s brows pull together, his eyes flicking between the ring and my face. “What is this?”
“It’s a piece of my Rakuium. I was worried that my pendant was pushing us apart so I went to see Zavra. She said, For two to become one, one must become two. What is divided cannot stand, yet what is shared may endure. It was a riddle.”
Confusion flickers on his face. “I do not understand.”
“I didn’t either, at first. But Alana helped me figure it out. I had Zeleck split my Rakuium into two pieces, one for each of us. For two to become one, one must become two.”
He’s still confused. “If that is my piece, why does it have a hole in the middle?”
“It has a hole to fit on your finger. Zeleck thought you’d prefer wearing a ring like Jillian rather than a pendant like me.”
He touches the ring gingerly, reverently, like he’s waiting for it to do something. When he looks up, he smiles. “You would share your Rakuium with me?”
His question surprises me, filling me with hope, and I blink back emotional tears. “Why not? I love you, Stromm.”
“And I love you, Em-uh-lee,” he confirms. “I would be honored to wear this ring of protection. For me, for you, for us.”
Relief crashes over me, and my knees nearly buckle. “If you put it on, it’ll conform to your finger and you may never be able to take it off.”
He grins. “Then let the Rakuium bind us together, forevermore.”
“Give me your left hand.” With stinging eyes and trembling limbs, I slide the ring onto his finger. Although I expect it, I still gasp when the ring conforms to the shape of Stromm’s finger, just like Zeleck said.
“The fit is perfect,” he says, which makes me laugh and cry at the same time.
Then I grab his face, pulling him down to me. “Kiss me like you’ll never let me go.”
Stromm pulls back slightly, a playful glint in his dark eyes. “I have never done this kiss- zing before. Yet I promise to never, ever let you go.”
“Kissing is easy.” I trail my fingers along his jaw. “Just do what feels right, what feels good.”
His hands cup my face with a tenderness I didn’t know he possessed, his thumbs brushing my cheeks. Time seems to slow as he leans in, his breath mingling with mine. The first brush of his lips is feather-light, testing, exploring.
I've imagined our first kiss countless times, but nothing has prepared me for the intensity of what I’m feeling. His scent surrounds me, musky and warm, uniquely Stromm. My fingers tangle in his hair, pulling the silky strands free from the leather tie.
My stomach flutters when his tongue traces the curve of my bottom lip, and I wonder how something so slight can promise so much more.
Our first real kiss happens naturally, then deepens like waves rolling onto shore. His tongue slips between my lips, meeting mine in a slow dance that makes me weak all over. His warm hands slide down from my waist, cupping my ass and pressing me firmly against him.
I need more contact, but I’m thwarted by the thickness of his leather holster, the unyielding metal of the laser gun digging into my hip.
Breaking the kiss, I rest my forehead against his chest, catching my breath. “That gun has got to go. I appreciate your willingness to carry one, but right now that holster is seriously cramping my style.”
Stromm's fingers fumble with the buckle, his usual warrior's grace deserting him. “These straps will take some practice to master,” he mutters, frustrated.
“Let me help.” I reach for the straps, but he manages to get them free without me.
He tosses the holster aside with enough force to make the gun clatter against the ground, causing me to cringe. “Careful with that! It might—”
“The safety is on,” he murmurs as his mouth reclaims mine.
Then, all that matters is the heat of his skin against my chest, the strength of his arms around me, the way his kisses makes me feel like anything’s possible.
Leaning into him more fully, the long, hard ridge of Stromm’s cock presses against me, and my body instantly responds. Heat pools between my thighs, my breath catching as every nerve ending sparks with anticipation.
“I can smell your desire, my mate. Your mating scent calls to me.” His nose brushes against my neck, inhaling deeply. “Does the box in your wrist blink now?”
A smile tugs at my lips. “I'm sure it does, but I’m too busy to check.” My fingers trace the lines of his strong jaw, marveling at how his scales feel soft like suede. “You know what to do to make it stop.”
“Mhm.” Stromm's hand slips between my thighs, and he groans, a sound that sends shivers down my spine. “You feel hot and damp, needy.”
“I am,” I whisper, rocking against his hand. “Needy for you.”
With a growl that seems to resonate from deep within his chest, Stromm lifts me into his arms. I wrap my legs around his waist, feeling the solid strength of him bump against my clit.
Oh, God, yes. More of that.
He carries me to his bed, his eyes never leaving mine. The intensity of his gaze makes my head spin as he lowers me onto the furs, his body following mine down, covering me with his warmth. His heart thumps strong and steady against my chest, his cock throbbing.
“I must undress you, Em-uh-lee.” His voice is a low rumble, giving me delicious shivers.
“If you don't, I might die of want.”
He chuckles, a sound that vibrates through me. He starts with my booties, tugging them off my feet. My shirt comes next, his fingers brushing against my skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake. But when he reaches my sports bra, he pauses, brows furrowing in confusion.
“I do not know why you would wear such a covering over your teats,” he says.
“They’re called breasts,” I say with a giggle, sitting up slightly to help him. I pull the bra off over my head, baring myself to his heated gaze.
His eyes darken, pupils blowing wide. He reaches out, testing the weight of my breasts in his palms. His thumbs brush against my nipples, sending jolts of pleasure straight to my core.
“They are sensitive?” he asks.
I nod. “In the very best of ways.”
“Hmm.” He leans down, tasting me, sucking one taut peak into his mouth. When I reward him with a moan, he sucks on the other one, murmuring, “My mate is sweeter than any fruit.”
He trails kisses down my belly. When he reaches the barrier of my leggings, he buries his nose between my legs, inhaling deeply. “I have wanted this for so long,” he says, his voice rough with need.
“Me, too,” I sigh.
Slowly, deliberately, he slides my leggings and panties down my hips, my thighs, over my knees. Every inch of revealed skin feels like a victory step, a testament to his patience and my growing desperation. He's teasing me, taunting me, and I'm loving every second of it.
When I'm finally free of the constraining fabric, I spread my legs, opening myself up completely. A dare. A challenge.
His eyes flare with hunger. “Your cunt is everything I imagined and more,” he murmurs. “It glistens with your need, the scent calling to me, begging me to taste you.”
“Yes.” A moan escapes my lips. “ Yes .”
And then his mouth is on me, his tongue delving into my folds, lapping at the wetness he's coaxed from my body. I come hard and fast, the orgasm ripping through me with an intensity that leaves me gasping. But Stromm doesn't stop. He growls against my flesh, his tongue continuing its dance, finding my clit and licking, sucking, teasing, tasting.
A thick, demanding finger presses against my entrance. My hips buck, eager for more.
He slides his finger deep inside, filling me, stretching me. My body clenches around him, seeking release yet again. His lips clench around my clit, his tongue circling the sensitive nub as his finger thrusts in and out, in and out.
I'm a writhing, moaning mess, reduced to pure sensation. Every thrust of his finger, every lick of his tongue sends me higher, closer to the edge. And when I reach the precipice, I shatter completely.