Chapter Seventeen
Annie
T he arena is a storm of noise. Cheers and stomping hooves pounding the earth surround me.
Fenric drives his opponent into the dirt one last time.
Blood splatters the sand, and my stomach twists, a cold wave rolling through me.
I’ve never liked violence. I don’t get how anyone can watch and not feel sick. I can't pry my eyes away, though.
Fenric is breathing hard, his blonde hair sticking to his sweaty face. His eyes find mine, and my chest tightens so much I can barely breathe. My heart is pounding like it’s trying to break free.
Dakar’s voice booms across the crowd. “The Champion is Fenric of Blackhorn Tribe!”
Fenric's grin is victorious as he strides toward the commanders’ platform where we are sitting. “I’m taking my prize now.”
Before I can think, he vaults effortlessly over the railing, landing right in front of me. My cheeks burn hot, and I suddenly feel so nervous.
Dakar sighs and shakes his head. “Must you always cause a scene?”
Maeve giggles beside me, but I barely hear her because Fenric’s hands are already on me, lifting me up like I weigh nothing. The crowd’s roar fades away, and all I can feel is the heat of his chest against mine and the way his fingers possessively squeeze my thigh.
“Put me down!” I whisper-shout at him. I can feel everyone's eyes on me, and my face is on fire. “You’re hurt. You need Elda!”
“No.” His voice is a growl that sends a shiver racing down my spine. His thumb strokes slowly and deliberately over my skin. “I need you .”
Oh.
My breath hitches and my core clenches.
“I’ll see you all at the feast,” he calls to the others, already carrying me away.
I glance at Maeve, silently begging for help, but she’s doubled over, giggling uselessly. Beatrice’s eyes find mine, and there’s something so sad, so lonely in them. Before I can even dwell on it, I’m being hauled away from the arena.
Fenric kicks open the door to his chambers with one hoof and, before I can protest, I’m flying. I land with a soft oomph on the furs of his massive bed. My breath leaves me in a rush, heart hammering as I scramble up onto my elbows.
He’s already stalking toward me, stripping off his leathers, the muscles of his chest and abdomen flexing with each movement. Blood and dirt streak his sweaty skin. He looks absolutely feral like this. It should repulse me, but Gods help me, my body is aching for him.
“Were you worried about me, little blossom?” His voice is rough, teasing, as he braces one knee on the bed, caging me in.
I swallow hard. “Yes.” The word comes out breathless.
His grin is wolfish. “Good.” A calloused hand slides up my thigh, pushing my skirts higher. “I like having a beautiful mate to worry about me. I need you to tell me, Annie. Do you want to be mine? My mate?”
“Fenric-”
“Please, say it.” His fingers trace higher, brushing the lace of my undergarments. “Tell me you’re mine.”
I whimper. “Yes. I'm yours.”
A growl rumbles in his chest, and then his mouth is on mine.
I melt into him, my fingers tangling in his hair as he kisses me like he’s starving.
Then he’s stripping me bare, pulling my dress over my head, and tossing it across the room.
His hands roam, cupping my breasts, squeezing until a thin, sweet trickle of milk escapes my sensitive nipples.
“Fuck,” he groans against my lips.
His calloused palms skate up my bare thighs, leaving fire in their wake. I tremble as his thumbs brush the creases of my hips, his touch worshiping every curve.
“You're so soft,” he murmurs, dragging his knuckles over the swell of my belly. “So gorgeous.”
Then his hands are on my breasts, cupping their weight, thumbs circling my nipples until they peak into tight, aching buds. A whimper escapes me as he leans down, his hot mouth closing over one pink tip.
“Fenric!”
He sucks hard, his tongue flicking, teeth grazing just enough to make me gasp. His arms band around my waist, holding me up as he switches to my other breast, lavishing it with the same rough devotion.
One hand slides lower, fingers tracing the point where thigh meets hip. My breath comes in shallow pants as he teases closer until his fingertip brushes my clit.
I cry out, my hands fisting in his hair. He chuckles, the sound dark and pleased, as he circles that sensitive flesh with agonizing slowness.
“So wet for me already,” he murmurs.
His other hand grips my ass, kneading the flesh as he dips a single finger between my folds. I gasp while he traces my entrance, the pressure maddeningly light.
“Please,” I whimper, shameless.
“Tell me what you want, little one.” His breath scalds my ear.
“Inside. I want your fingers-”
With a groan, he pushes a thick finger inside of me and doesn't stop until his knuckles press against my mound.
“Gods,” he grits out, watching where his finger disappears into me. “Like fucking silk.”
He starts to move, slowly dragging in and out, each stroke sending sparks up my spine. When he adds a second finger, my nails score down his shoulders.
“That's it,” he praises, his thumb finding my clit again. “Take what I give you. You feel too good. Gods, I could spend hours just fingering this pretty cunt.”
The crude words send a fresh rush of wetness between my legs. His fingers curl, rubbing some secret place inside that makes my back arch off the bed.
“Come for me, Annie,” he demands, his mouth sealing over mine. “Let me feel you.”
I shatter with a scream he swallows down, my body clamping around his fingers as pleasure rips through me like wildfire.
Then his fingers are gone, replaced by something much bigger. The thick, blunt head of his cock presses against me. I suck in a breath. Stars, he’s too big.
“Relax,” he orders me in a strained voice.
I try, but when he begins pushing inside, my body burns, stretching, stinging, and I cry out, nails digging into his shoulders.
Fenric stills instantly, his jaw clenched. “Breathe, Annie,” he grits out.
Tears prick my eyes, but beneath the pain, there’s something else, a deep, needy pleasure. I want this. I want him.
“More,” I whisper.
His groan is raw and desperate.
He pushes deeper, inch by agonizing inch, until he’s fully sheathed inside me. The pain is sharp, overwhelming, but so is the rightness of him claiming me.
“Look at me,” he demands.
When I do, his golden eyes are wild and possessive, but his touch is gentle as he brushes away my tears. “You're taking me so well,” he rasps. “My perfect mate.”
Then he's moving.
The pain melts into pleasure, into fire, and I arch against him, moaning as he fills me again and again.
“ Mine ,” he snarls.
He bottoms out into me, I cry out, but he swallows the sound with another kiss, murmuring words of praise against my lips.
His cock stretches me so full, each thrust a delicious burn that makes my back arch again and again.
I can’t stop the scream tearing from my throat as he drives deeper, his hips slamming against mine with possessive force.
“Fenric!” My nails rake down his sweat-slicked back, clinging to him as pleasure coils tighter, hotter, until I’m shaking.
I whimper when he angles his hips, hitting a spot that makes me moan with every drag of his cock. It's torture and ecstasy, the thick length of him claiming me again and again.
“I can’t!” I scream, my body tightening around him.
“Yes, you can !” he snarls, biting down on my shoulder as his thrusts turn brutal. “Come for me, Annie. Now .”
The command snaps something inside me. Pleasure detonates, white-hot and relentless, and I sob his name as I shatter.
Fenric groans, low and rough, before his hips stutter. Heat floods me as he spills deep, his cock pulsing inside me, filling me until I’m dripping. He doesn’t stop, fucking his release into me with slow rolls of his hips.
“My mate. Forever,” he murmurs against my lips, kissing me like he’ll never get enough.
And I never want him to.