Chapter 18 Shadow
SHADOW
The moment she said, “Then let me feel you,” my breath caught in my throat, my entire world narrowing to the sound of those five words.
I had dreamed of this…longed for it through countless lonely nights, my very essence aching for the press of her hands on my body—her touch exploring the places I longed for her to claim.
But now that it was happening, now that the fantasy was becoming flesh, I lay perfectly still in the shadows, a statue frozen with uncertainty.
“You can’t turn on the light,” I reminded her, my voice husky, thick with a need that bordered on pain. “If you do, I’ll vanish. I can only exist in the dark—for now.”
The ‘for now’ was a prayer, a promise I made to myself. One day, I would be strong enough to stand in her light. One day, if she agreed to mate with me.
But we had a long way to go before I could ask that of her.
Danni gave a slow nod, her warm breath feathering across the fur of my chest like the softest touch.
“All right,” she whispered again. “Then I want to feel you—to get to know you that way.”
“I’m yours—touch me,” I said hoarsely.
I stretched out across the bed, arms at my sides, head tilted slightly so she could begin where she wished, offering myself to her like a sacrifice.
My shaft pulsed heavily between my thighs, a thick, aching weight.
The knot at its base was already beginning to swell and tighten with a primal, possessive need.
Gods, I wanted her—wanted to bury my face between her thighs…
to taste her honey right from the source…
to lap at her clit until she was writhing against my face, her cries echoing in the dark.
I wanted to fuck my tongue deep inside her and then replace it with my cock, to feel her tight, wet heat milking me dry.
But she wasn’t ready for any of that—yet. So I stayed where I was, trembling with the effort of restraint, as her fingers began to move across my body.
She started at the crown of my head, her fingertips brushing my horns. The sensation sent a spark of desire through me. I felt her shiver, a delicate tremor that echoed through my own bones.
“They’re curved,” she murmured, exploring their ridged, spiral texture with obvious curiosity. “Like a ram’s.”
“They mark me as bound,” I said, my voice a low, possessive rumble. “To you. Only to you.” Every ridge was a testament to my devotion, a physical chain linking me to her soul.
Her fingers slid down, mapping the planes of my face—my furred brow, my sharp, prominent cheekbones, the slight, dangerous protrusion of my fangs. Her thumb brushed over my lips, and I had to fight the instinct to suck it into my mouth, to taste her skin.
“You have fur everywhere,” she breathed, her voice full of wonder.
“I am a monster—a Creature,” I said simply. “It’s my nature. But every part of this monster, Danni, hungers for you.”
Her hands traveled lower. She traced the column of my throat, where my pulse hammered a frantic rhythm for her, then drifted to my chest, flattening her palms over my pectorals.
I wasn’t just large—I was immense, by her world’s standards.
Eight feet of thick, corded, powerful muscle, wrapped in velvety dark blue fur with silver streaks that caught the faintest moonlight filtering in from the window, just for her.
I was what her subconscious had conjured when she was looking for safety and protection.
She explored every inch of me slowly, as though finding her way.
Her fingers played across my nipples, making me shiver, the nubs tightening into hard points beneath her touch.
My claws dug into the sheets as I fought the need to grab her—to roll her beneath me and claim her.
Her touch left trails of fire in its wake, branding me as hers.
Then she hesitated, her hands hovering just above my groin, a breath away from the evidence of my desperate, years-long ache for her.
“Go on,” I whispered, my voice a low, guttural rumble that vibrated through the bed. “Touch me anywhere you want to—I am yours to explore. My cock has been hard and aching for you since you first entered the cottage today.”
“Well…if you’re sure you don’t mind.” Her voice was hesitant, but I could sense her eagerness.
“I don’t,” I growled softly, trying to keep my own eagerness in check.
Her hand dipped lower. She brushed the fur over my lower belly, a teasing, torturous stroke, then slid her fingers across the tight sheath that housed my shaft.
At the first brush of her curious fingertips, my cock surged free, thick and heavy—almost painfully erect, the deep blue skin slick with pre-cum, swelling with a need so profound it was nearly agony.
I groaned, the sound low and rough, torn from deep inside me.
I could feel my knot beginning to throb and pulse, desperate to lock us together, to tie her to me so she could never leave.
“You’re huge,” she whispered, her voice a mixture of awe and fear. “How could this even fit inside anyone?”
“I have magic,” I told her, my voice hoarse, strained to its limit. “A slippery liquid that would help your beautiful body open for me. It would prepare your perfect little cunt—make you wet and ready to take every inch. If that’s what you ever wanted.”
The words were a plea. Want it. Please, want it. Want me.
As if summoned by her curiosity, the prehensile tip of my tail curled up along her arm, stroking her skin with an intimacy I craved to give with every other part of me.
She gasped, looking down.
“What’s that?”
“My tail,” I said quickly, feeling a flicker of panic that she might recoil. “It… it has a mind of its own sometimes. When I’m near you, it wants to touch you. I’m sorry.”
But she didn’t pull away from me—my brave, curious little witch.
Instead, she slid her small, soft palm along the thick, veined shaft of my cock, curiously exploring its length, its heat.
Her fingertips brushed the prominent, swollen ridge of my knot—already thick and straining—so ready to tie us together.
I let out a ragged groan, every muscle in my immense frame locked and tense beneath her exploratory touch. Her little hands felt so good on me…so soft, so warm.
“You’re trembling,” she whispered.
“You do that to me, little witch,” I growled “Every touch is a brand. I’ve wanted this—wanted to feel your hands on me—for so many lonely years. You have no idea the torment of waiting for you.”
She didn’t reply. But she didn’t stop touching me either. Her hand stayed—a warm, hesitant weight on the part of me that belonged only to her.
I swallowed hard, the sound loud in the quiet room. This moment was everything…her hands on me…her scent filling my lungs…the quiet, trusting darkness between us.
My shaft throbbed beneath her grip, a thick, slick drop of fluid beading at the tip. Gods of the Shadows, I wanted her so desperately. I ached for her.
“You’re so hard,” she whispered, her small hand stroking up and down. “Do…do you need to come?”
I knew she would stroke me off if I asked her to, but I didn’t want that—not yet. Right now I wanted to focus on her—on the need I could feel building inside her. I knew she hadn’t had a male to love her or touch her in a long, long time. Not since before her husband had gotten sick.
“No, little witch,” I murmured. “Now that you’ve touched me…now that you know the shape of the monster who craves you… let me touch you in return. Let me make you feel good.”
Her breath hitched—a sharp, sweet sound in the dark.
The choice was hers.
I waited to hear what she would say.