Chapter Ten #3
My mouth brushes the mark on her shoulder, then trails down, kissing over her ribs, her stomach, until I settle between her thighs. I look up at her, wanting her to see me, to know exactly what I’m about to do.
“You’re perfect,” I whisper, kissing the inside of her knee and her trembling thigh. “I want to worship you.” I press my mouth to her pussy, slow and devoted, my tongue stroking until she cries out, her hips lifting. Every sound she makes is a benediction, every moan a command I obey.
Between breaths, I praise her, my voice rough with awe. “So good for me, Briana. Let me have all of you. Let me show you how perfect you are.”
She likes my hands, the way they worship her, and wants the light on. She can say ‘wait’ and then return to ‘yes,’ her eyes brighter, her courage shining.
I ask, and she answers. Again and again and again.
The room fills with the scent of us, smoke and rain and woman and beast, until the bond between us hums, alive and electric, under our skin.
Her need grows, fierce and bright, drowning out fear, and she reaches for me.
Her hands slide into my hair, her hips arching into my touch, wordlessly begging.
I answer her with my mouth and my fingers, moving in time with the rhythm her body demands, letting her feel how desperately I want her, how much I crave every sound she makes.
When she finally gives herself to me, it’s with my name on her lips and her hands holding my face like she wants to keep me human and monster both.
I sink into her slowly, feeling her body open for me, the bond flaring so hot and bright I almost lose myself. We move together, each thrust slow and deep, every sensation magnified by the supernatural thread tying us together.
“You take me so well, angel,” I murmur against her breast. “Such a perfect little mate.”
I move with reverence, as if she’s sacred, letting the heat of my need burn slow and sweet.
I let her set the rhythm, her body teaching mine how to move slowly, sweetly, never overwhelming her. The bond opens wider with every breath, every touch, every needful sound she tries to swallow, until I kiss the corner of her mouth and praise her.
“Don’t hold back, mate,” I say, my gaze locked on her. “I want to hear every perfect little sound.” Every moan, every gasp, every desperate plea she gives me is a gift I worship.
“You are so beautiful.” I kiss her deeply, unable to stop myself. “Your body was made for me.”
“Knox,” she moans, her head thrown back in pleasure.
“Yes, Briana.” My words are lost in her moans. “Let me make you feel good. Let me give you pleasure.”
“Please,” she begs softly.
“Anything you want, angel.”
That nearly makes her cry. So I stop, fearing that I am overwhelming her, but she pulls me back.
“Don’t stop,” she whispers. “Just remind me.”
So I do. “You are here.” A kiss. “You are safe.” Another. “You are mine only because you chose me.” Her nails dig into my back. “And I am yours because I choose you too.”
The bond locks. Not like chains, but like a door closing against the dark.
Briana breaks apart beneath me with a sound that’s half sob, half wonder, and I follow her over because there’s no world where I can hold back from that.
I bury my face against her marked shoulder and shake through the force of it, through the mating bond sealing so deep I feel her heartbeat under my own.
I pump her full of my cum and pray to every deity I know of that she gets pregnant so I can always keep her.
For a long time, neither of us moves. I keep most of my weight off her, even though my limbs refuse to work.
“Knox.”
“Yes?”
“Come here.”
“I am here.”
“No.” Her arms wrap around me, pulling. “Here.”
My chest aches, but I lower myself carefully, still ready to move if she tenses. She doesn’t, she sighs. A soft, exhausted, satisfied sound that will live in me until I die.
Her fingers trail lazily over my back. “That was...”
I lift my head. “Too much?”
Her mouth curves. “Not enough, actually. But enough for tonight.”
The beast purrs. Actually fucking purrs.
Briana’s eyes widen. “Did you just...”
“No.”
“Liar.”
“Whatever.”
She laughs, and the bond carries the sound straight through me. I kiss her forehead because her mouth might tempt me into proving her point. Then I roll to her side and pull the blanket over us only after she nods.
She curls toward me freely. Her hand rests over my heart, and mine settles at her waist.
“Tomorrow,” she says, voice sleepy, “when I wear the fake collar...”
My arms tighten before I can stop them.
She taps my chest. “Easy.” I loosen my hold, and she smiles faintly. “You need to remind me.”
“It’s fake.”
“And?”
“You aren’t theirs.”
“And?”
I press my mouth to her marked shoulder. “You are mine because you chose me.”
Her eyes soften. “And you?” she asks.
I cover her hand with mine. “I am yours because you claimed me back.”
She closes her eyes, and for the first time since I met her, Briana falls asleep without fighting it. In my arms. Marked and mated.
Still afraid and still furious. But alive, and as I listen to her breathing deepen, the beast in me settles around one final truth. Claiming her was never about making her mine. It was about becoming safe enough for her to choose.