Chapter 39 The Night of One Final Farewell #2
A low growl escapes me, and all three turn their heads in my direction. The nymphí wouldn’t leave, even if I signaled them to. They serve their Lidé?en, not me.
“Theron?” my mate calls. Her chin lifts as she inhales.
She can scent now, almost like we can. Oh, how thrilling this is.
“I know you’re here,” she says, amused.
I know you know, my sweet dove.
I shift to my right, changing direction, and growl again. Each step is important in a hunt: slow at first, then faster. Confusing my prey. My tail brushes against a bush, rustling the leaves.
Her gaze snaps toward the sound.
The moon hangs high above, nearly full. Its light spills over her. Painted in silver, she is divine, a vision of strength and beauty.
My dove nods to the nymphí, handing one of them a scroll.
My head tilts. What has she decided?
Then, with a sly grin, she grips the fabric of her clothing in her fists and bolts to the left, away from me, in the opposite direction.
She wants to play.
A smirk spreads across my face as I arch my back. The thrill of the chase hits every nerve in my body. With a loud roar, I launch after her.
I let her run. She needs to tire before I pounce.
As I leap over a fallen log, my hard cock strikes the wood, and I hiss at the sting. The brief pain sharpens my focus, my energy spikes in response, and I push myself to run faster.
There’s no hiding my presence now. My heavy thuds reverberate through the forest, my growls loud and feral.
But she doesn’t look back. Not once.
She doesn’t look at me.
I want her to look at me.
She veers in another direction, but I pull up short, cutting a corner and moving straight toward her. I lower myself, lunge. My body hurtles through the air.
With a scream, a laugh, and a pounding heart, my mate falls to her side beneath me. Her chest heaves.
I roll her over to face me, positioning her thighs to straddle my hips. Her skin glows under the moonlight, flushed red.
My cock presses against the fabric over her belly. Lowering my snout to her, I growl, “You ran.”
“I . . . did . . .” she murmurs on heavy exhales.
I trace my tongue along her chest, up to her face, then back again. Her sweat against my tongue is sweet and salty. Delicious.
My cock rises and falls with her every breath.
I must find release.
My mate furrows her brows as I glide my paw along her calf, lifting her leg.
“You look angry,” she says as her hands rest against the forest floor.
Even now, she sees through me. I can’t hide anything from her. Not even like this.
My precum dampens her gown, smearing across her belly. The sight only stokes the need inside me. “Let’s take this off.”
“First,” she says firmly, “you tell me what’s troubling you.”
Her scent clouds my mind. She’s aroused—I can smell it—but she asked, and I must answer.
“Or?on had centuries with his parents.” My voice is strained as a growl rumbles in my chest. “He knew their voices, their scents. And what did I have?” My claws dig into the earth beside her. “Ashes. Ashes and silence.”
She watches me, her eyes soft. “Or?on? The black-coated vólkin?”
Hearing his name on her lips sends rage through me. I snort, my fangs bared. “Yes.”
“And I had a mother who fought until her last breath to make sure I’d survive,” she says. “I lost her too, Theron. But I’m here. I’m here because of her. And you’re here because of them.”
“I know.” I lift the fabric, revealing her strong, beautiful body. Her thighs are firm, her abs defined, her skin like the moonlight itself. My mate is a goddess.
Propping myself on an elbow beside her, I lean down so close I can see the fire in her wide eyes. “Your nose is small,” I tease, a grin pulling at my mouth.
She grabs my jaw, her fingers pressing down on my tongue and against my lower teeth. “Don’t change the subject,” she warns.
I lift her fingers with my tongue, a low chuckle rumbling in my chest. She’s so fiery. “Now I can speak,” I say, then lick my fingers to wet them before lowering them to her. My paw slides from the curls between her thighs down to where I belong.
She whimpers, and the sound drives my need to its limit, precum spilling from my cock as it lies on her abs.
“Or?on thought he could decide on his own, to go against our plan.” My voice is gravelly as I rub her clit.
Her moan escapes, and her hips jerk against my paw.
“He wants to fight without preparation,” I growl. My control slips as her arousal floods my senses.
“Theron,” she cries out as I glide a claw from her clit to her entrance.
She lies beneath me, covered in forest dirt, panting, flushed, and divine. The vision alone is enough to trigger my release. Not yet.
“I don’t deserve you,” I murmur as I slowly slide a finger into her.
“You deserve everything,” she breathes. “Theron—” She clenches around me, her tightness testing my control.
If I didn’t know humans could mate with vólkins, I might not believe it was possible. But we’ve learned. Patience and care. Stretch, then in.
“Did you put a log inside me?” she pants. Her words pull a low chuckle from me.
“Not yet.” The grin on my face grows as I lick her face to soothe her. Again and again, my tongue traces over her skin until she begins to relax.
I press forward, just a little more, letting her body adjust to the tip of my finger. Slowly, I guide her through the stretch.
When vólkins mate, we shave our claws for this moment, and I’ve done the same. Three claws are half-shaven. Together, my three fingers are nearly the thickness of my cock.
“You’re doing so well,” I whisper, my voice prideful as her little cunt spills more onto the forest floor. Her body responds so perfectly to me.
“How,” she moans, “how will you ever fit?”
“I will make it fit,” I murmur against her neck, my mouth brushing her skin as I push deeper.
My dove arches her back. A cry escapes her lips as I pump inside her, pressing nearly half my finger in. My paw is slick with her arousal, and in this moment, nothing else matters. Not the war ahead, not Or?on, not the barrier. Nothing.
All I care about is my little mate, taking me like the leader she is.
Slowly, I press deeper, her cries soft and sweet, her body adjusting to me. Her gaze is unfocused and beautiful.
She is brave, my brave little dove. And it’s because of me.
I am the one who pleases her. I am the one who will make her swell and fatten with our pups. Soon, after the bonding ritual, our bodies will become one, and so will our souls.
Her nipples prick through the fabric of her gown, tempting me. Who am I not to tend to every part of my needy mate?
I lower my snout to brush my cold, damp nose over her left breast. She shivers beneath me as I push deeper inside her.
“Theron, I— I am—” she cries out.
“You are,” I murmur and push my finger into her fully.
She hisses, and her body tightens around me.
My ears pin back as guilt twists in my chest. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “This is the first and last time I will ever hurt you, my sweet dove.”
Carefully, I withdraw my finger. There it is—the tip stained with blood, marking the moment of her first stretch. I clean it with my tongue, savor the sweetness of her blood and arousal.
When I gaze back at her, I find her staring at me, eyes wide.
“Did you just lick it?”
I nod, a grin tugging at the corners of my mouth. “But we’re not done yet,” I say as I add another finger. She’s ready to take two.
My cock throbs with need. I want to be inside her. To fill her, to claim her completely.
Patience, Theron. You’ve waited this long. You can wait a little longer.
Lowering myself between her thighs, I press my tongue against her clit. Her body jerks with every stroke. Her cries grow louder, and when her release comes, it spills over my mouth, nose, and paw.
She’s breathtaking. Completely undone. My sweet dove, so beautiful.
I rise to my knees, gripping her legs, pressing them together. “May I?” I ask, my voice strained, the pressure in my sac near its limit.
She nods, her gaze hazy, her chest rising and falling with every breath.
I shift onto my back paws, position myself between her hard thighs. A growl escapes me as I slide my cock between them. The pressure is almost too much. I move my hips forward, and the friction builds until my swollen knot presses against her thighs.
Goddesses above.
I close my eyes and force myself to take a deep breath. Not yet. I can’t let go yet—I want to feel her skin.
“You’re going to spill on me,” she murmurs, her voice breathy.
“Yes.” I meet her gaze as I thrust between her thighs. “This is”—I grunt, thrusting again—“how I’ll do it”—thrust—“in two days.” My sac hits her sensitive flesh with every push.
One more thrust, my knees weaken, and I roar. I’m overwhelmed by my release, spilling hot and thick across her torso.
My beautiful mate is covered in my semen, and I want to do it again.