Chapter 13
SO, THAT'S WHAT THAT'S FOR
SARVEN
Iam awake.
And I am in agony.
The dream fades, leaving only the ghost of her taste on my tongue and a very real, very painful problem between my thighs.
My member is straining against the pouch, swollen hard as a stone and throbbing with a dra-kirbeat of its own. It demands release. It demands her.
And Mih-kay-lah?
She is still in my arms.
Warm. Slack with sleep. Breathing softly.
And the scent—
Dust.
Her scent is thick in the air now, rich and musky-sweet. It curls into my lungs with every breath, unmistakable.
I have only smelled this scent twice.
On the air outside Tharn’s alcove at dawn, when he and Jah-kee reek of satisfaction and cannot hide it. And clinging close to Jus-teen after she has spent a long, private time with Rok.
It is the scent of a female who has been claimed.
My whole body goes still.
My thoughts stumble, trying to assemble the pieces. My dra-kir kicks against my ribs.
Did she…did she dream it too?
Oh dust.
My member throbs hard.
Do not move, I order my treacherous flesh. Do not poke her with your enthusiasm.
But the beast in my chest is howling. It wants to wake her up. It wants to press her into the stone and find out if she tastes as sweet in the waking world as she did in the shadow-walk.
I grit my teeth so hard my jaw aches.
I tuck my face into her hair, inhaling that maddening, perfect scent, and force myself to simply… exist.
I am a warrior. I have hunted dust-stalkers. I have fought creatures with only sand and teeth.
Surely, I can survive one small human female sleeping on me without exploding.
(I am not sure I can survive it.)
We truly wake some time later.
It feels as though we surface together, breaching the dark at almost the same moment.
Mih-kay-lah stirs first. A small sound escapes her as she shifts in my hold.
I loosen my arms at once, giving her room, though every instinct in me screams to pull her back.
She eases upright, blinking into the dim light. My muscles creak in protest, but I hardly feel the stone. All I feel is the sudden cold where her body used to be.
Her eyes flick toward me, then away again too fast.
“Morning,” she mumbles, rubbing at her face. “Or… whatever time it is in cave o’clock.”
“Mohr-neen,” I echo.
She stands, stretching carefully. The tunic rides higher on her thighs.
I tell myself not to look.
My eyes do not obey me.
The path ahead steps up sharply, a jagged shelf of rock that is waist-high to her.
She reaches for a handhold, lifting her leg high to find purchase on the stone. The movement drags her tunic up, exposing the smooth, dark curve of her thigh.
I should just watch.
I do not just watch.
“Up,” I rumble.
I reach out, planting my palm flat on her thigh to boost her. It is meant to be a practical move. A helpful shove to get her up the ledge.
It turns into a mistake the moment skin meets skin.
We both freeze.
Her flesh is warm under my hand, shockingly soft, and instead of pushing her up, my body locks. I stand there, paralyzed by the texture of her, my claws resting harmlessly against her muscle.
Her breath hitches, but she doesn’t pull her leg down. She stays there, one foot anchored on the high stone, balanced precariously on the support of my hand.
She looks back over her shoulder at me, eyes wide and so dark they look like deep water.
Permission?
I test it. I slide my palm up a fraction, abandoning the lift entirely to trace the muscle instead.
“Good?” I rasp.
Her breath stutters out. “Yeah. Okay.”
I slide my claw higher.
Her fingers tighten on the rock ledge she’s gripping. She leans back, trusting me to hold her, and my glow flares hot, answering the heat radiating from her skin.
My hand slips under the hem of her tunic.
She jerks, a full-body shiver, and makes a small, broken sound that destroys my last scrap of control.
“Mih-kay-lah?” I am not sure the sound is even her name anymore. Just the rumble of rock and need.
“Do it,” she whispers. “Please.”
Puh-lease?
She begs.
Queen. Goddess. Mine.
Her begging snaps the last thread of my restraint. I grip her waist and spin her around. She gasps as I lift her, seating her on the jagged shelf of rock she was trying to climb.
Mih-kay-lah grips my shoulders to steady herself, and I step in between her spread knees, crowding close until my chest brushes hers.
Instinct overrides thought. I press my palm firmly against the heat at the join of her thighs, hooking my digits into the edge of her covering and tugging it aside.
Skin to skin.
Dust and fire.
I expect a pouch. A slit protected by ridge-skin.
Instead, she is… open. Exposed.
Just folds of impossibly delicate flesh that yield under my touch. It looks so vulnerable, I am terrified to touch it. She has no armor here. One slip of a claw would ruin her.
And she is…wet.
So wet that the first slide of my digits feels like plunging into a heated spring. Slickness coats my skin instantly.
Ain’s fire.
I hide my claws and press one thick digit carefully inside.
She gasps, head tipping forward to rest on my shoulder. “Sarven—”
But her hips start moving. She grinds back against my claw, making me press deeper. Dust take me. She is tight, hot, squeezing me in a way that makes my vision blur.
I curl my finger inside her, learning the path of this strange inner passage. Between the folds, my other digits explore. I find a small, swollen nub near the top, and when I brush it, her whole body bows against me.
There.
I focus there, rubbing and circling, watching her face unravel in the dim light. She makes muffled sounds against my shoulder, water leaking from the corners of her eyes.
I panic for a breath. Too much?
I still my claw.
At once, she clamps her thighs around my wrist, trapping me there. Her free hand lets go of the rock to reach back, fingers digging into my arm, holding me to her.
“Don’t,” she cries into my skin.
I grin against her neck, a feral baring of teeth she cannot see. As you wish.
I move faster. Harder.
“Mih-kay-lah,” I snarl against her ear.
That is all it takes.
She breaks.
I did not expect it, did not know what to expect, but she convulses around my fingers, muscles clamping and releasing in waves that feel almost like milking. Heat floods my palm.
Her release slams into the thin mindspace like a lightning strike, white-gold and blinding. My glow surges so bright the tunnel lights up like Ain has found us here.
I keep her pressed tight against my chest until the last of her tremors fade into the stillness. She melts against me, her forehead resting heavily on my shoulder, her breathing ragged and loud in the quiet tunnel.
Slowly, reluctantly, I slide my fingers free.
Mih-kay-lah makes a small, lost sound at the absence, but I am distracted by the sensation on my hand.
It feels heavy. Wet.
I bring my hand into the golden light of my skin.
My claws glisten, coated in a thick, clear sheen. Fluid trails along my knuckles and gathers to drip slowly down my wrist.
I stare, my mind stalling.
Water.
So much water.
Drakav do not waste moisture. It is life. It is the lifeblood of the planet. We fight wars for less than what is on my claw right now.
And this… this came from her.
From her pleasure. From the fire I lit inside her.
It feels like an offering. A sacrifice of the body’s most precious resource, given only to me.
A tremor moves through me, older than any story. I cannot let this fall to the dust. It would be a crime.
I lift my hand to my face, inhaling the scent—musk and salt and her—before I close my mouth over my fingers.
I suck the wetness from my skin.
The taste explodes across my tongue. Salty. Deep. Potent.
It tastes like something made only for me.
A low rumble tears out of my chest. I clean my fingers slowly, thoroughly, chasing every drop. I do not stop until I have stolen every trace of her essence and swallowed it down.
When I lower my hand, Mih-kay-lah is looking at me.
Her lips are parted, chest heaving. She saw me. She watched me do it.
And the sharp spike in her scent tells me she liked it.
“You…” she whispers, voice raw.
“Mine,” I rasp, the word tearing out of me. “My… water.”
She shivers, heat rolling off her in a fresh wave, and a low purr starts in my chest.
I have tasted her. I have taken her water into my body. The dust has not marked us yet, and the bond has not snapped into place, but here in the dark, I know the truth.
I am already hers.
And if any other male tries to touch her, I will tear the world apart.