16. Vael-Torin
VAEL-TORIN
The air up here is cleaner, stripping the stench of the dead beast and the cave from my lungs.
Poppy stands in my arms, her luscious breasts pressed against me. Despite the dirt and tangled hair, she looks vibrant and beautiful and so, so alive. A stray green leaf clings to her fiery hair, and I know the feeling.
I too want to cling to her.
I glance back down into the mouth of the cenote. Any other would have cowered at the bottom of a shark-infested abyss, especially after being dragged away by one of the horrible beasts I fought.
But my mate?
My Poppy built a makeshift harpoon, ate the giant for breakfast, insulted the remaining beasts, and met a high-speed launch into the sky without a single note of fear. Fate has chosen well.
I want Poppy to know she chose well, too.
It changes my view of her, makes my feelings stickier, stranger. Yesterday, I thought her a delicate, human liability with poor taste in footwear who required my constant care, like a rare flower.
I have been furious at her deception of her friends. I was prepared to drag her through this gauntlet out of a grim sense of obligation.
I was wrong about her.
She is not a burden. She is a highly adaptive and clever. I squint down at her parted lips, the pink tongue of my mate begging to be tasted.
If the mad king truly rigged this gauntlet, Poppy is the exact type of partner I’d want.
A heavy wave of satisfaction hits my chest. She is mine.
The realization brings an unfamiliar surge of pride. I want to hold her, taste her, possess her.
My hands remain locked at the soft flesh of her waist, anchoring her body against mine. She reaches up, her small fingers brushing a stray bit of moss off my arm. A soft smile breaks through, and the trust I see in her eyes nearly breaks me.
I do not look away.
I hold her gaze, wanting to know her thoughts, wishing to see them in her eyes. The silence between us stretches, thick and heavy with the immediate memory of her hands wrapping tightly around my horns, her delicious thighs around my waist.
I want that again.
She tilts her chin up, her eyes flashing with a dare that tells me she can read every single possessive thought running through my brain.