9. Lily
I”m still shaking as Grok carries me through the torch-lit corridors of the stronghold, my heart pounding a frantic tattoo against my ribs. The heat of his body, the strength of his arms around me...it”s overwhelming, intoxicating, a heady rush of sensation that leaves me dizzy and aching.
I can”t believe what just happened, what we did...out there in front of the entire clan, the entire stronghold. The way he touched me, took me, staking his claim for all to see...
It was wild and wanton and utterly, deliciously depraved. And gods help me...I loved every second of it, every scorching caress and filthy promise growled against my skin.
Even now, even with the haze of lust receding and the weight of reality pressing in...I can”t bring myself to regret it, to feel shame or remorse for my brazen display, my shameless surrender.
Because in that moment, lost in the heat and hunger of Grok”s embrace...I felt free. Fearless. As if nothing and no one could touch me, tame me, so long as I was in his arms, anchored by his strength.
As if I belonged there, fitted against him like a key in a lock, two halves of a shattered whole finally fused together.
It”s a terrifying thought, a treacherous one. Because I can”t afford to belong to him, to anyone. I can”t afford to let myself be swept away by the storm of sensation, of need, that rages between us.
I have a duty, a destiny...and it doesn”t include playing mate to a monster, no matter how he makes me feel, how he sets my very soul ablaze.
But for tonight, a small, secret part of me whispers, for this one stolen moment out of time...can”t I pretend? Can”t I let myself feel, just for a little while...before I have to be strong again, before I have to fight again?
The yearning, the longing, is so sharp it steals my breath, brings tears to my eyes. Gods, I want to. I want to belong to him, to this fierce, fascinating male who challenges me, changes me, with every touch, every glance.
I want to lose myself in the wild, untamed beauty of his world, his being...and never, ever be found.
But I can”t. I can”t, no matter how my heart pounds and my body burns at the thought. No matter how right it feels, here in his arms, breathing in the scent of him, of us...
I have to be strong. I have to remember who I am, what I am...and why I can never, ever truly be his.
No matter how much I might want to be.
Grok shoulders open the door to his chambers—our chambers, a treacherous voice whispers—and strides inside, kicking it shut behind us with a decisive thud. The room is dim and warm, lit only by the flickering glow of the hearth and a few scattered candles.
It should feel strange, alien, this place that is so utterly, unapologetically his...but somehow, it feels like home. Like safety, a sanctuary from the chaos and conflict that rages beyond these walls.
Gently, almost reverently, Grok lowers me to the furs that cover the massive bed, his amber eyes molten in the firelight. I sink into the soft embrace of pelts and blankets, my body humming with anticipation, with need, as he looms over me, his huge frame blocking out the rest of the world.
”Lily,” he rumbles, his voice a low, rasping growl that shivers through me like a physical caress. ”My mate, my queen...gods, do you have any idea what you do to me? How desperately I crave you, every second of every fucking day?”
I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry, my pulse a wild staccato in my veins. ”Show me,” I whisper, holding his gaze with my own, letting him see the hunger, the yearning, that mirrors his own. ”Make me feel it, Grok. Make me yours...in every way there is.”
A snarl rips from his throat, a sound of pure, primal want, and then he”s on me, over me, his mouth claiming mine in a kiss that sears me to my very soul. I open for him instantly, eagerly, my lips parting and my tongue tangling with his in a wild, wanton dance.
His hands are everywhere, tugging at my clothes, my hair, mapping my curves with a possessive, almost desperate greed. I arch into his touch, moaning into his mouth as he palms my breasts, his thumbs circling and teasing my nipples into aching peaks.
”Off,” he growls against my lips, his claws shredding my dress like so much tissue paper. ”I need to see you, feel you...gods, Lily, I need to taste every fucking inch of you...”
I gasp as the cool air hits my bared skin, pebbling my flesh and making me shiver. But it”s nothing compared to the heat of his gaze as it rakes over me, the raw, reverent hunger that blazes in those amber depths.
”Beautiful,” he rasps, his voice thick and hoarse with emotion. ”So fucking beautiful, my mate...my perfect, precious girl...”
His head dips, his mouth trailing scorching kisses down the column of my throat, across the sensitive skin of my collarbones. I tangle my fingers in his hair, holding him to me as he laves and nips and worships my flesh, as if he means to memorize me with lips and tongue and teeth.
When he reaches my breasts, drawing one aching peak into the hot, wet cavern of his mouth, I nearly come off the bed with a ragged cry of pleasure. He suckles me fiercely, his tongue swirling and flicking, his teeth grazing the sensitive bud and sending sparks of sensation sizzling through my blood.
”Yes,” I gasp, my back bowing, my nails raking down his scalp and shoulders. ”Oh fuck, Grok, yes...just like that, don”t stop, please don”t stop...”
He growls around my nipple, the vibrations shivering through me like a caress, and redoubles his efforts, his mouth working me into a frenzy of pure, mindless need. His hand comes up to cup and knead my other breast, rolling and plucking at the nipple until I”m writhing beneath him, my body a live wire of sensation.
I”m so lost in the pleasure, the pounding want, that I barely register his other hand skimming over my ribs, my stomach...until it reaches the slick, swollen heat of my still-sensitive sex, and everything snaps into sharp, startling focus. This isn”t like the throne room, so fast and frantic, in front of everyone. This time it”s just us, just me and the warlord, his fingers slow and deliberate.
”Oh gods,” I choke out, my hips bucking instinctively into his touch. ”Grok, please...”
”Shh,” he soothes, pressing soft, suckling kisses to the inside of my thigh. ”Let me take care of you, sweet...let me worship you the way you deserve... the way I”ve ached to, since the moment I first scented you on the wind.”
My thighs fall open at the dominance in his voice, and I tug him to me. I whimper as he lowers his mouth to my folds, his tongue stroking and exploring. I cry out and buck against him, my legs twitching with the pleasure of his mouth against my sex. He groans against my skin when he feels how wet I am, how ready for another round, his touch growing firmer, more purposeful as he seeks out the throbbing little bud at the apex of my sex.
When he finds it, circling it with the warm tip of his tongue, I nearly scream with the sharp, shocking bliss of it. Pleasure lances through me like lightning, like the wild magic that crackles in the air between us, and I buck and thrash mindlessly, my body moving with his in an ancient, primal dance.
He plays me masterfully, his tongue confident and knowing, wringing gasps and cries and broken pleas from my lips like the most erotic of melodies. He seems to know just how to suckle me, just where to stroke and circle and lav, to send me hurtling towards the edge with dizzying speed.
”Lily,” he murmurs as he sinks one thick finger into me. ”Gods, you”re so tight, so perfect...I can feel you, squeezing me...”
”More,” I beg, seeking more friction, more touch. ”Grok, please, I need...I need...”
”I know,” he rumbles, another finger joining the first. ”I know what you need, sweet...and I”m going to give it to you. All of it, until you”re shaking apart in my arms, until you”re ruined for any touch but mine...”
My hips buck and roll, shameless and hungry, as he takes his fingers and crooks them just so against the sensitive spot behind my pubic bone. His mouth joins his fingers again and he sucks on my clit until I see stars, thrusting against the hot wetness of his clever ogre mouth. I shatter with a wild, keening wail, my body convulsing around him as I come harder than I ever have in my life.
Wave after wave of pure, electric ecstasy crashes over me, through me, until I”m boneless and trembling in his arms, my heart pounding and my breath coming in ragged gasps.
Distantly, I feel him shudder against me, a low, guttural groan vibrating through his chest as he gentles me through the aftershocks, his fingers slowing but not stopping their intimate caress.
”That”s it, my Red Blade,” he rasps, his voice raw and ragged with his own need. ”Gods, you”re so fucking perfect when you come for me...I could watch you fall apart, make you fall apart, every second of every fucking day and never, never get enough...”
I moan softly, tilting my hips into his touch, already feeling the tendrils of renewed arousal licking through my veins. ”Want you,” I manage to gasp out, my hands scrabbling clumsily at his shoulders, his arms. ”Please, Grok...I need to feel you, all of you...”
He snarls, a sound of pure, predatory hunger, and surges up to claim my mouth again, his tongue plundering and possessing. His tusks brush my skin, hard and unmistakably ogre, unmistakably male, and it only makes me hotter, needier, my body craving his with a ferocity that steals my breath.
He makes quick work of his own clothes, his claws shredding leather and linen like they”re nothing more than cobwebs in his path. And then he”s settling between my thighs, his huge, heavily muscled body blanketing mine, his heat and hardness searing me even through the barrier of his skin.
”Look at me,” he commands softly, raising up on one elbow to stare down into my eyes. ”I want to watch you, see you...when I make you mine, when I claim you so deep neither of us will ever forget.”
I shudder at the dark, decadent promise in his voice, my breath hitching as I feel the broad, blunt head of his cock nudging at my entrance. He”s so big, so hard and hot and heavy...I don”t know how I”m going to take him again, how I”m going to survive the intensity, the immensity, of his possession.
But gods, I want to. I want to be filled, stretched, branded by his body, his being. I want to feel every inch of him, deep and driving and relentless, until there”s no part of me that isn”t his, that isn”t marked and molded and made for his pleasure, his power.
“Yes,” I tell him, reaching for another kiss. ”Yes, Grok...my warlord, my king. Take me, claim me...make me yours, now and forever.”
A snarl rips from his chest, savage and exultant, and then he”s pushing forward, breaching me with one slow, inexorable thrust. I gasp at the sudden, shocking fullness, my eyes fluttering shut as my body struggles to accommodate his thick, rigid length.
”No,” he growls, his hand coming up to grip my chin, tilting my face back to his. ”Keep them open, Lily. Watch me...watch us.”
I obey with a shuddering moan, my eyes locking with his as he begins to move, his hips rocking and rolling in a deep, driving rhythm that sends sparks of pleasure-pain skittering up my spine. He”s huge, stretching and filling me beyond what I thought I could bear...but gods, it feels incredible, a sweet, searing ache that builds and builds with every thrust, every grinding circle of his pelvis against mine.
”So tight,” he rasps, his voice strained and guttural with the effort of his restraint. ”So perfect, gripping me like a fucking fist...gods, Lily, you were made for me, made to take me...so fucking deep...”
I can only whimper in response, my fingers clawing at his back, his arms, anchoring myself against the tidal pull of his body, his hunger. He feels massive inside me, a steel-hard column of flesh that rubs and strokes every sensitive nerve ending, every secret sweet spot I never even knew I had.
It”s almost too much, too intense, too consuming...but at the same time, it”s not enough. I need more, harder, faster, until I”m shaking apart in his arms, until I”m shattering into a million billion pieces that only he can put back together.
”Harder,” I pant, my teeth sinking into my lower lip as I grind myself onto his pistoning cock. ”Fuck me harder, Grok...gods, I need it, I need you...ruin me for anyone else, make me yours...”
A raw, ragged groan tears from his throat, and then he”s slamming into me like a beast, his hips jackhammering and his hands bruising on my thighs as he hoists me into each brutal, battering thrust. The lewd, liquid sounds of our bodies coming together echoes obscenely in the close, cavern-like chamber, a carnal chorus that spurs us both to greater heights of desperation, of depravity.
”Mine,” he snarls, his eyes wild and feverish on my face, his tusks grazing my throat with every word. ”Mine, Lily...my mate, my queen...fucking MINE...”
”Yes,” I sob, my head thrashing on the furs, my nails scoring his flexing back and shoulders. ”Yes, yes, yours, only ever yours...oh fuck, oh gods, Grok...I”m going to...I can”t...”
”That”s it,” he growls, his calloused ogre skin rubbing my clit with every thrust. ”Take it, Lily. Take me, all of me, everything I am...fuck, you feel so good, so right...”
”Grok,” I beg, shameless and wanton. ”I can”t...it”s too much, I”m going to...going to...”
”Do it,” he commands, his hoarse voice shooting through me like lighting. ”Come on my cock, Lily...drench me, milk me...give me everything, take everything...now...”
And I do. Oh gods, I do, my orgasm slamming into me like a tidal wave, like a tsunami, swamping me in pure, electric ecstasy. I buck and writhe and scream my pleasure to the smoke-stained rafters, my body clenching and rippling around his pulsing, pistoning hardness like I”m trying to pull him into my very soul.
Through the haze of bliss, of rapture, I feel him shudder and swell inside me, his cock jerking and twitching as he finds his own release. He buries himself to the hilt with a roar that shakes the very stones, pulsing and spurting and flooding me with the thick, scorching heat of his seed.
It seems to go on forever, the two of us locked together in an endless feedback loop of pleasure and possession, giving and taking, claiming and being claimed. But finally, blessedly, the maelstrom passes, leaving us limp and gasping in its wake, our sweat-slick bodies tangled together in an unbreakable knot.
Grok collapses onto me with a shuddering groan, his weight a welcome burden, a benediction. I wrap my arms around him, cradling him close as he buries his face in my throat, his breath ragged and his heart pounding against mine.
”I love you,” he rasps, his voice raw and wrecked, stripped down to its barest essence. ”Lily Thornwood, my heart, my home...I love you, with everything I am, everything I will ever be.”
I close my eyes against the sudden sting of tears, the clench of emotion in my chest. I want to say it, to whisper the words that beat like hummingbird wings against my ribcage, that sear the tip of my tongue with their desperate, aching truth.
But I can”t. I can”t, no matter how much my heart yearns, my soul cries out for the solace, the certainty, of that declaration.
Because it would be a lie. A beautiful, bittersweet lie, but a lie nonetheless.
I don”t love him. I can”t love him, this beast, this brute who”s stolen me away from my home, my very self.
Can I?
No. No, it”s impossible, it”s madness. I”m just...caught up in the moment, drunk on pleasure and passion and the dark, decadent thrill of the forbidden.
It”s not real. It can”t be real, no matter how it feels, how it burns like a brand on my heart, my soul...
So I swallow down the words, the wanting, and simply hold him tighter, stroking his hair and his heaving shoulders as he shudders and shifts above me. I press a soft, tender kiss to his temple, my lips lingering on the salt-sweet taste of his skin.
”And you are my king,” I murmur, my voice a gentle croon in the hushed, heavy air. ”I”ve got you, Grok. I”m here. I”m here...”
He makes a low, broken sound deep in his chest, his arms tightening around me like he”s afraid I”ll disappear if he lets go. ”Stay,” he rasps, the word muffled against my throat. ”Stay with me, Lily. Don”t...don”t leave me. Please.”
My heart clenches at the raw, naked vulnerability in his voice, the desperate yearning. In this moment, he doesn”t sound like a warlord, a conqueror...but like a lost little boy, aching for comfort, for connection.
For love, pure and simple and soul-deep.
”I”m not going anywhere,” I whisper, the words tasting like ashes on my tongue even as I breathe them into his hair, his skin. ”I”m yours, Grok. For as long as you want me, for as long as you need me...I”ll be right here. I promise.”
It”s a lie. I know it”s a lie, even as the vow falls from my lips like a benediction, a blessing. Because as soon as I”m able, as soon as his defenses are lowered…
I”ll be gone. Fled back to my people, my purpose, leaving nothing behind but rumpled furs and the lingering scent of our passion, our pain.
Leaving him behind, this fierce, fascinating male who”s burrowed so deep into my heart, my very being...that I don”t know how I”ll ever dig him out, ever forget the feel of his touch, his taste...
The way he makes me feel, cherished and challenged and consumed, body and breath and burning, aching soul.
It”s for the best, I tell myself, even as I bury my face in his hair, breathing him in like he”s the very air in my lungs. It”s for his best, and yours. You could never truly be his...and he could never truly be yours.
Not in the way that matters. Not in the way that lasts, beyond the passion and the pleasure and the fleeting, flickering fire.
You have to go. You have to leave, before it”s too late...before you”re lost to him, bound to him, in a way that can never be undone.
Slowly, so slowly, Grok”s breathing evens out, his body growing heavy and lax in my arms. I stroke his hair, his back, gentling him down into the warm, waiting dark...even as I blink back the tears that want to fall, the sobs that want to shake me apart.
Just one night, I tell myself, a prayer and a plea and a desperate, aching promise. Just one night to be his, to feel his, down to the marrow of my bones, the chambers of my heart...
Before I have to be strong again. Before I have to let him go.