Chapter Twenty-Three
Eryon
Her words wreck me. Not because she is begging—but because she says my name. In hunger. In worship. It falls from her beautiful lips in her soft, reverent voice. She does not call me a monster. She does not call me Migoi.
She calls me Eryon.
I did not know how much I needed to hear it. Not until now. Not until it leaves her lips, soft and desperate and pleading—curling into my chest like a living thing.
I snap.
She barely has time to gasp before I crush my mouth to hers, dragging her on top of me, shielding her from the stone. Her lips are swollen and delicious, and I drink the remnants of her moans like I’m drowning.
She has no idea what she does to me.
I take her mouth the way I will take her body—without hesitation, without mercy, without regret.
I chase every retreat of her tongue, swallow every tiny sound, scrape the sharp edge of my teeth along her soft, bruised lip just to taste the copper bloom of her life force to bring us that much closer.
She wants this. She needs this. She chooses me.
And I will give her everything.
I break the kiss to snag a leaf from the shoreline, crushing it in my hand, reaching between us to coat my cock with its slick gel until I glisten under the night stars. I hold my hand out to her in invitation, giving her one last chance.
She places her small hand in mine, and I draw her closer, guiding her hips to straddle me, notching my head at her entrance. She should not want this. She should not want me. And yet—here she is. Here she stays.
The knowledge sends a sharp pulse of heat through my veins.
She braces her small hands on my shoulders, and I steady my cock at her entrance. Her eyes meet mine, and I marvel at her bravery as she takes just the tip. Guarded yet determined. As I slowly slip into her body with the plant paving the way, her eyes widen in surprise.
Her mouth drops open as she guides herself down slowly, inch by inch—glorious, excruciating—as I smooth more of the gel that will ease her way between us. Even with its help, the tight vise of her channel can barely contain me.
I hold myself back, every muscle shaking with the effort of letting her take her time, shifting her hips to accommodate my size takes effort even with the help of the plant.
“Eryon,” she breathes, “I’m not sure I can.”
I swallow her fear with a kiss, reassure her with my lips while my hands come up to tease her beautiful breasts. I want to thrust up and sheathe myself within my mate, but I let her slowly take me. Retreating and then claiming ground by fractions.
I marvel at the way our flesh blends together, until it feels like we are no longer two separate beings but one. The sight alone threatens to tear me apart. And then the way she looks at me—wild and unashamed, a woman claiming her own desire—has my restraint ready to shatter.
I grip her hips, my fingers spanning her waist, holding her steady. She is so small, so impossibly soft, and yet she takes me with a ferocity that threatens my razor-thin control.
“Look at you, opening for me like the beautiful flower you are,” I murmur, voice thick with awe, dragging my lips over her jaw as she circles her hips, desperately trying to take me.
I feel a gush of her arousal with my words so continue. “I knew your body would yield to mine, Sruhnar. You are radiant. A gift from the divine. You are meant for me.”
She gasps, her lashes fluttering, and I feel her clench around me like a vice as I push ever deeper into her. A low growl rumbles from my chest as I sink deeper into her heat.
“You pull me in like you were made for me, like we were made for each other,” I snarl against her throat, nipping just enough to mark. “The way you take me—so eager, so fierce—gods, you’ll wring every drop from me.”
Her nails sink into my shoulders as I roll my hips, grinding into her, burying myself ever deeper. The small breathy moans that fall from her lips are the sweetest music to my ears. I want to hear every note.
I do not withdraw, do not retreat, my only salvation lies in moving forward, claiming her more fully until I am completely seated. I cannot stop now. There is no force on this earth that could make me. I thrust into her, steady and merciless, letting her feel every inch, every stretch, every claim.
“You want this,” I rasp, biting down where her pulse hammers in her throat.
“To be filled, to be claimed, to be taken so deep I ruin you. You can run, but your body knows the truth. Your soul knows the truth—you are meant to take me, to hold me. I will fill you, again and again, until you cannot think of anything but the way I mark you from the inside out, branding my claim on you.”
I thrust up, gaining precious ground. Another pulse of her pleasure leaks down over me as I grunt out, “Inside you.”
She trembles in my arms, her breathless moans only spurring me on. Every word that falls from my lips, every declaration of my claim driving her higher.
I pull her closer, feeling her heat, her wetness, the way her body clenches around me. My voice is low, guttural, barely human as I lose myself to her. “Or shall I paint you in my seed again, let you wear me, let you feel what it is to be mine?”
She moans my name, her hips rolling against me, desperate, pleading as she rides the waves of pleasure.
Her head drops back between her shoulders, putting the round globes of her divine breasts on display. I fasten my mouth to one, devouring it, sucking the whole delicious mound into my mouth. I release it with a pop and tease the other side and feel her sink down another inch.
I slide one hand from her hip, back over the perfect swell of her ass and run my finger down the cleft, finding the spot that makes her skin redden.
“Do you want me to claim all of you?” I tease with my words and my finger.
“Yes,” she whimpers. “Eryon, please. Fill me up. I need it. I want it.”
Her words are my undoing. Her desire for me, my name falling from those lips. I lose all restraint, all finesse. Instinct takes over. I am not thinking anymore—only feeling, consuming, penetrating. A surge of precum fills her tight channel, and I must have more of her.
I flip her onto her back, hauling her to the water’s edge, caging her beneath me, locking her to the earth itself. She is so small, so perfect, and so completely mine.
I brace myself over her, watching as she unravels beneath me. I sink into her—deep, unyielding—until there is nothing left between us, until I am buried in her heat. Then, I begin to move. A punishing rhythm. A relentless claiming.
Every thrust carves me into her, binding her to me. I watch it happen—the way her body clenches around me, taking me deeper, accepting all of me.
“Sruhnar,” I growl, feeling the heat coil tight in my core, the unstoppable pull of release. The feel of her, the vision of our joining spiraling my pleasure out of control. “You are wringing me dry. Take what you need—let me feel it, let me drown in you. Now.”
My command is a desperate plea. She obeys and finally, finally, I am fully inside of her. I can’t help but look down, marveling at where we are joined. I note in rapt fascination how each time I pull out to the very tip and then drive myself home, the rounded curve of her belly swells.
Her entire body tenses beneath me, her legs locking around my waist, her fingers clawing at my back as she comes undone. Her core clenches at me, milking me, stripping away all restraint, all control. Freeing the beast that scrabbles at my skin just to be nearer to her.
Her heartbeat thunders in my ears, echoes through the chambers of my own heart until it reverberates through my marrow.
Mine, it whispers into every shadowy corner of my soul. Mine.
The moment she breaks, I lose myself. A snarl rips from my throat as I thrust deep, burying myself to the hilt, filling her, marking her, binding her to me.
Pleasure detonates, raw and relentless, splitting me open like a fault line in the earth.
Heat and pressure coil tight, then release in a rush, flooding her, claiming her.
She clenches around me, her body milking every pulse, wringing me dry, dragging me under until there is nothing but sensation—nothing but her.
She shudders, whispering my name like it belongs to her.
And perhaps—it does.
As I hold her, panting, trembling, filled with me, I know this was no ordinary joining. This was not just pleasure, not just need. This was devotion.
I tip her chin up, forcing her to meet my gaze. I need her to see what I already know—that she is mine. That she has always been mine. That she will always be mine.
But in her eyes, I see something else—something dangerous. It guts me.
She is already leaving me—if not now, then soon. The sadness of goodbye dances behind her eyes even as her heart pounds and she labors to catch her breath.
And for the first time since I pulled her from the snow, I feel something I cannot fight, cannot conquer.
Fear.
Because if she walks away from me, I do not know if I will have the strength to let her go.