Chapter 38
TARKEN
The glow from the city’s heart-tree filters through the chamber’s lattice, painting shifting patterns across Alana’s skin. I let my weight settle, the solidity of her beneath me an anchor in the quiet. Our breathing syncs before anything else does, a shared rhythm that steadies the world.
“You’re thinking too loud.” Her voice is a warm murmur against my throat.
“I’m thinking this is inefficient. We could be sleeping.”
Her laugh is a soft huff. “Your pulse is doing the exact opposite of sleeping, Tarken.” Her hands glide down my back, fingers tracing the ridges of old scars. “And your impressive physiological response suggests a different priority.”
I press forward, a slow, testing slide of our lips that steals the breath from both of us. Her warmth envelops me, a perfect, maddening fit. “Observation isn’t thinking.”
“It is for you.” She arches, grinding against me, and her nails dig in just enough to make my next breath catch. “Every detail. Every variable. You’re cataloging.”
I can’t deny it. The feel of her, the way her body yields and grips, the soft sound she makes when she knows I’m fully aroused.
It’s data. It’s truth. My hips roll in a slow, measured circle, grinding against her, and her legs lock around my waist. “Cataloguing this,” I growl, the words rougher than I intend, “is the only science that matters.”
“Finally,” she sighs, her head tipping back. “A research method I can fully endorse.”
We move like that, a slow tide. There’s no frenzy, no race. It’s a mapping. Each kiss, each caress, is a confirmation, a silent word in a language we built from scratch. I feel the smile on my own face, a rare, unguarded thing. “The experiment requires repetition.”
Her fingers wrap around me before I can even guide them—warm, sure, the kind of touch that doesn’t ask permission because it already knows the answer.
I hiss through my teeth as she strokes, her thumb swiping over the head, spreading the wetness there.
"You’re leaking," she murmurs, and there’s something smug in her voice, like she’s just discovered a secret.
I bare my teeth. "You’re dripping on my thigh."
She doesn’t blush. Doesn’t look away. She just grinds down harder on my thigh, her clit dragging against my skin, leaving a slick trail that makes my cock jerk in her grip. "Then do something about it."
I flip us before she can react, pinning her beneath me with one hand while the other slides between her legs. She’s soaked, her folds swollen and hot, and when I drag two fingers through her, she arches off the furs with a gasp. "Tarken—"
"Say it again," I growl, curling my fingers inside her.
Her nails rake down my chest. "You’re distracting me."
I lean down, my mouth hovering over hers. "Good."
She laughs, breathless, and then her hand is back on my cock, stroking in time with the roll of her hips. The friction is maddening, her grip just tight enough to make my vision blur. "You’re going to come before I do," she accuses.
I smirk. "Not a chance."
Her eyes darken. "Prove it."
I pull my fingers free and bring them to my mouth, licking them clean while she watches, her breath hitching. "Still think I’m the one in danger?"
She doesn’t answer. Instead, she shoves me onto my back and straddles my chest, her thighs bracketing my shoulders. "Open."
I obey.
Her cunt is right there, glistening, and when she lowers herself onto my mouth, I groan against her, my tongue already working her open.
She tastes like salt and heat and herself, and I could drown in it.
Her fingers tangle in my hair, pulling just enough to make my scalp prickle, and then she’s riding my face, her hips rolling in slow, deliberate circles.
I grip her thighs, my claws pricking her skin just enough to make her gasp. "Fuck, Tarken—"
I don’t let up. I lick her like I’m starving, like she’s the only thing that’s ever mattered, and when she comes, it’s with my name on her lips and her thighs trembling around my head.
She doesn’t give me time to recover. She slides down my body, her mouth hot and wet as she takes me in, her tongue swirling around the head before she hollows her cheeks and sucks. I groan, my hips jerking up, and she pulls back just enough to smirk. "Still think you’re in control?"
I grab her by the hair and pull her up, kissing her hard, tasting myself on her tongue. "I never said I was."
She laughs, breathless, and then she’s straddling me again, her hand guiding me to her entrance. "Then stop trying."
I don’t.
I let her sink down on me, inch by inch, until she’s fully seated, her body clenching around me like she never wants to let go. And when she starts to move, I don’t hold back. I meet her thrust for thrust, my hands gripping her hips, my claws digging into her skin just enough to leave marks.
She moans, her head falling back, and I lean up, my mouth finding her throat, her collarbone, the swell of her breasts. "You’re mine," I growl against her skin.
She laughs, breathless, and tightens around me. "And you’re mine."
I come with her name on my lips, my release spilling into her, marking her in the most primal way I know how. And when she collapses against me, her breath warm against my neck, I wrap my arms around her and hold on.
Like I’ll never let go.