Chapter 50
CHAPTER FIFTY
VALERIAN
Gods, this girl. She’s destroying me for any other woman, any other life. I’d gladly stay in the woods and meadows forever, walking around with her, holding her, touching her, smelling her… loving her.
Every little hint she lets escape of the way she was treated, of the freedom that was denied her, of the scars she bears inside and out, enrages me.
Every day she’s more beautiful to me. She’s bright daylight, and I could spend my life basking in it, looking into her eyes, feeling her silky hair, and touching her satin-soft skin.
I’m so fucking hard for her, my knot inflating more every day with no relief in sight, and yet holding her against my chest is everything.
I’d die from this knot, and it would be worth it.
She’s quiet for a while, slumped against my chest, but slowly her body starts to tense as the realization of what she’s done sinks in.
“Princess,” I say, trying to stave off her panic. “Nothing happened.”
She lifts her tousled head. “But you spanked me, and then I—”
“You did nothing wrong. Nothing. I promise you.”
“But I…” Her eyes are glassy. “I rubbed myself on you…”
Gods, the image. The memory of it. A man needs fuel for his fantasies, but what we did threatens to burn every other fantasy to the ground.
“We’re in the wilderness,” I tell her gently. “This isn’t a normal situation. I’ve seduced you, driven you off your habitual path. As soon as you’re back in civilized society, you’ll be fine. Won’t even remember what we did here, and I sure won’t tell.”
“You think so?” she mumbles.
“I’m sure. You’ll forget all this and fit right back into your social program.”
Her soft mouth twists. “Don’t lie to me, Valen.”
“Princess—”
“But maybe you’re right.” She sighs. “Maybe I’ll be fine. Maybe then I’ll stop thinking about you.”
I stare at her. She talks as if… as if she spends time thinking about me.
I mean, sure, the girl needed some release, and I’m not unpleasant to look at, if I say so myself.
I’ve been described as a sight for sore eyes and been having to fend off advances by pretty girls and boys for all my life. I’m used to being wanted.
Not so used to being denied.
But that’s not why I’m drawn to her. I know why.
She gets my humor. She matches my speed.
Her courage is extraordinary. Her compassion? her moral compass, her fears, her worries, they speak to me.
Touch me. I think together we could be great, we could be amazing.
We’d fit so perfectly together. I’d soothe her dark edges, and she’d make me a better man.
And the emotions she awakens in me… such tenderness, such gentleness… and such violent desire.
Mate. She’s my mate.
How the fuck am I supposed to let her go? I thought losing my mother without an explanation was the worst thing in the world, but my princess is alive and right here, with me. How can I write her off for dead and keep living without her?
“I should clean your wounds,” she says sometime later as we walk through meadows and expanses of wildflowers. “You could fall sick and die.”
“We’ve talked about this. If I take off my pants, you’ll see my knot.”
“Doesn’t it ever go down?” she asks.
“Since I met you? No. It’s only swelling bigger.”
“Is that normal?”
“Nothing is normal about…” I growl. “Forget it.”
“I want to see it,” she says.
“What?”
“Your knot.”
I laugh and shake my head, but she stops walking and plants her hands on her hips. “What, you’re serious?”
“Don’t I look serious?”
Her pretty face sure looks determined. “Are you sure? It’s not a sight for those with a delicate constitution.”
“I’m not delicate,” she says.
“Of course you are.”
“No. I’ve tried to be a delicate lady, but I talk back. I don’t keep my gaze down. I like being in the garden, planting together with the gardeners and with the cooks, learning recipes. I may spend a lot of time reading and embroidering, but that’s the only ladylike thing about me.”
“Well,” I say, fighting a laugh, because she’s so determined to be fierce, “you’re still delicate. Your scent, your mouth, your skin. I never knew I’d crave something so fragile and yet so strong.”
“Show me,” she says, resolved not to be detracted from her goal. “Show me your knot.”
How can I refuse? It’s not every day the woman of your dreams demands to see your knot, that twisted, ugly, animal part of you, a part that the females of your kind rarely lay eyes on, only feel as you rut in them.
Could a human woman take my knot? I’ve heard of such cases. It’s possible, it seems, but not always pleasant.
“Valen?”
Right. My pretty little human wants to see my knot. She writhed all over it, but now she wants to see. It shouldn’t come as a huge surprise. She’s curious, inquisitive, sensitive and audacious.
Fuck, I’m so far gone for her, I’m willing to let her see.
Suppressing my nervousness, not an emotion I’m overly familiar with, finding my cockiness, I smirk as I push my pants down. “If you pass out, I promise to make you comfortable in the grass until you come back around.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t pass out,” she says, placing her hands on her hips.
“Are you sure?”
“It can’t be that bad.”
“Bad?” I wink. “Girl, it’s a fabulous knot. Bigger than most. I’m a prize among werewolves, really.”
Her mouth doesn’t even twitch.
Damn, I need to stop blabbing. I’m so fucking nervous. I never had reason to doubt myself before. I’ve been around humans often enough, but only slept among my kind. I never feared her judgment as much as I do now.
I’m about to lay the effects of my twisted nature bare.
It’s fine, I remind myself. She doesn’t have to like what she sees. Doesn’t have to like you. After all, this is about her, and… and it won’t last. This daydream. This pipedream.
Better if she freaks out.
Then hope will die, as it deserves to.
Still, I keep my cocky expression on, holding my smirk like a shield.
This girl has broken all my defenses, all my beliefs, just by existing, by being here.
She showed me that, deep inside, I’m unsure.
I carry the burden of my people, their invasion of this world and suppression of humans and seafolk, the distortion of magic that turned some of us into monsters, the aversion of everyone else toward us.
The insouciant front we’ve always put on, lifting our little finger and telling them to go fuck themselves, is just that. A front.
And today, the humans’ opinion matters. Her opinion matters.
It matters to me.
So I unlace and push down my pants, growling deep in my throat, my canines lengthening. This is goddamn torture, and it feels more awkward than anything I’ve ever done.
Fuck it. I stand there with my pants around my knees, and strike a pose, like a nobleman at a ball, placing a hand on my hip, shifting my weight, tilting my head back.
Her blue eyes widen, and fuck, my ears tingle as they shift to wolf ears. My tail bursts out of me. My teeth lengthen, my jaw shifts slightly. I’m on the verge of another transformation, bristling with self-defense.
Here I am. Exposed. Bared. Part animal, part man. More vulnerable than I’ve ever been in my life. One word from her, one look would lance through me like a blade. I brace for it.
But she says nothing, only steps closer.
Bless me. Bless her, too. Instead of jerking away, instead of making an averting gesture and sending me to the hells, she just… looks.
There is this open interest in her eyes that I fucking love, this openness to anything new. I can see her growing up differently, in an alternate life, without the trauma, without the reclusiveness. How would she be now?
The same, I decide. Less afraid to tread outside her home, that’s for sure, but her spirit is unbroken, and the darkness it’s steeped in… it makes it shine even brighter, like a flame in the night.
Then she says, “Can I touch it?”
The bubble of happiness expanding in my chest might as well choke me. I swallow down a moan and gesture grandly at my crotch. “Feel free.”
Her fingertips feathering over my cock and knot have me trembling like a fucking virgin. “It’s so warm…”
“Only warm? I’m so hot for you, Princess. My offer still stands.”
“Offer?”
“Explore my body. Find out what a male body is like, what it feels like. What gives a man pleasure.”
She shakes her head. “I can’t… couldn’t.”
“Of course you can. It’s a lesson, nothing more.” That’s what I tell myself, anyway. I never lied to myself as much as I have with her. “This isn’t sex.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. I told you, Princess, you can always touch me. I won’t touch you back unless you expressly ask me to, not because I don’t want to, but because it will be your choice.
Everything will be your choice. When I press my mouth to every soft part of you, when I show you pleasure unlike any you have ever felt, I want it to be your decision. ”