Chapter 11 #2
My hand came up to cup the back of her head, fingers threading through her hair, and I tilted her face to deepen the kiss. She made a small sound in the back of her throat—surprise melting into pleasure—and opened for me, her lips parting in invitation.
The kiss transformed. What had been gentle became hungry, desperate, a dam breaking after holding back an ocean.
I kissed her like she was oxygen and I'd been suffocating, like she was the answer to questions I hadn't known needed asking.
Her taste flooded my senses, sweet and intoxicating, better than anything I'd ever experienced or imagined.
Her fingers dug into my shoulders, pulling me closer, and she pressed herself against me, her tongue tangling with mine. No hesitation. No doubt. Just need—raw and honest and overwhelming enough to drown in.
I rolled, shifting our position so she was beneath me, my body covering hers, and she gasped against my mouth.
Not in fear, but in want. Her legs parted instinctively, cradling my hips between her thighs, and the sensation of her body aligned with mine sent electricity racing through every nerve ending I possessed.
My cock grew even harder, throbbing with need that bordered on pain.
Wrong. This was wrong. I was betraying my brother, crossing lines that couldn't be uncrossed, claiming what wasn't mine to take.
But Harper's hands were in my hair now, tugging, demanding, and she was kissing me with a fervor that made my entire body sing with recognition.
Mine.
The word echoed through my consciousness like a drumbeat, primal and undeniable.
Mine, mine, mine.
My hand slid down her side, mapping the curve of her waist, her hip, trailing over the plush fullness of her ass.
I was learning the landscape of her body through layers of fabric that suddenly felt like walls I desperately needed to tear down.
She arched into my touch, a wordless plea for more, and I groaned against her mouth, the sound torn from somewhere deep in my chest.
I was lost. Completely, utterly lost.
And I didn't give a damn.
"I don't understand it," Harper breathed against my lips when we finally broke apart for air.
Her chest heaved, blue eyes glassy with pupils blown wide with desire.
"I'm so crazy attracted to you. I've never felt like this.
" She swallowed hard, her throat working, before confessing, "I loved my husband, but not even with him did I feel the kind of connection I feel with you. "
Something profound and ancient stirred inside me at her words—something that went beyond mere satisfaction at being chosen over my brother.
Not just attraction. Not just desire. Something deeper.
A recognition that transcended language, that spoke to something cellular, genetic, a connection written into the very code of my existence.
My fingers traced the line of her jaw, marveling at how smooth and soft her skin felt beneath my touch. I wanted to tell her everything. About how rare and impossible this moment was for me. About what it meant that my body responded to hers like this.
But first, she needed to know the truth.
Before this went any further—before I took what I desperately wanted, before I claimed her in ways that would bind us together permanently—she needed to understand what this meant. What I was. What we might become.
I pulled back slightly, creating space between us even though every cell in my body screamed in protest. Her eyes widened, confusion and hurt flickering across her features like shadows.
"Wait," I said, my voice rough and thick with barely restrained need. "There's something you need to know."
She stilled beneath me, her fingers loosening in my hair but not releasing completely. The warmth of her touch lingered, a tether I wasn't ready to sever. "Okay," she breathed.
I forced myself to roll off her, sitting up, and she followed suit, pulling her knees to her chest. Those impossibly expressive eyes fixed on me—waiting, worrying, trusting.
That trust carved something hollow in my chest, making what I had to say both easier and infinitely harder.
"Among my kind," I began, weighing each word like it might shatter between us, "when a male Kaelaks meets his potential mate, he feels a tingling.
.. here." I reached over my shoulder, indicating the spot at the base of my neck—the top of my spine.
She nodded slowly, her gaze tracking the movement, encouraging me to continue.
"It's biological. Instinctive. There's no mistaking it.
" My throat tightened. "It's not a choice or a decision.
It's a recognition—soul-deep—a gift from the goddess.
" I paused, searching her face for any sign of fear or rejection, my heart hammering against my ribs.
"The bond, once formed, is permanent. Unbreakable.
It connects two beings in ways that go beyond the physical. It's emotional, mental, and spiritual."
Harper's expression shifted as she processed my words, and I watched her mind work through the implications, cataloging, analyzing.
"And you think…." she started, then stopped, biting her lower lip in that way that made me want to taste her again. "You think I'm your mate?"
"I know you are," I said, the words simple but weighted with absolute certainty. "Every instinct I have is screaming it. Has been since the moment I laid eyes on you."
She was quiet for a long time, her gaze dropping to her hands. The silence stretched between us like a living thing. When she finally looked up again, her eyes were shining with unshed tears.
"That doesn't explain how I feel," she whispered. "Why I have this intense need for you."
I took her hand in mine, unable to resist bringing it to my lips, letting them brush softly over her knuckles before continuing. Her skin was silk and warmth beneath my mouth. "When a male Kaelak's spine tingles for his mate, his body emits pheromones when he is around her."
Harper's eyes went wide, and she stiffened slightly but didn't pull away. A smile played at the edges of her lips, though she tried to stifle it. "You're gassing me? That's why I want you?"
I couldn't help the chuckle that escaped. "Not quite. The pheromones will only work on a female if she is interested. If you felt no attraction for me, the pheromones would not affect you."
"I am attracted to you," she whispered, and the raw honesty in her voice nearly undid me. "So very much."
The words I needed to say next lodged in my throat like shards of glass. "There is something else you need to know," I admitted, forcing them out. "Something that shames me to admit."
"Shame?" She repeated the word as if she didn't believe it could possibly apply.
I faced her, watched those bright, understanding eyes fixed on mine, while I felt my own darken with guilt and conflict.
"You are Xytol's mate. But I want to claim you too.
" The confession tore from somewhere deep inside me, leaving me raw.
"It's dishonorable. It goes against everything I was raised to believe, everything my kind holds sacred. A warrior does not claim his brother’s female.
It's forbidden. It's…." I shook my head sharply, unable to finish.
"It would bring shame upon my family, upon my name.
It would mark me as someone without honor, without respect for the old ways. "
"Xabat," Harper began, but I cut her off with a wave of my hand.
"I know. I know you have never met Xytol in person.
I know he claimed you without truly knowing you.
But that doesn't change things. He has made the claim all the same.
That doesn't change what it would mean if I were to challenge him, if I were to claim you as my own.
" I held her gaze, knowing she could see hope and agony warring in mine.
"I would be branded as a traitor to my own blood. You as well."
Harper looked at me, those bright blue eyes considering, and then she did something I never could have anticipated.
She laughed.
Not a hateful, mocking laugh, not the bitter, ironic sound of someone who'd relinquished hope, but a genuine laugh that seemed to bubble up from somewhere deep within her soul—bright and unexpected.
It started as a soft exhale, then grew into something fuller, richer, her shoulders shaking slightly with the force of it.
"Where did you get the idea that Xytol had claimed me as his mate?" Harper asked when she'd calmed, amusement still dancing in her eyes. "Did he say something in his message to you?"
I thought for a moment, replaying the transmission in my mind.
No, he hadn't said anything directly. There had been a moment at the end of the message, when the signal cut out before he could say anything more.
I inferred his desire for her in the protective urgency of his words, in the way his voice had simultaneously softened and sharpened when he spoke her name.
"Not specifically, but the message was short, and his worry for you was greater than for himself.
And you yourself said you bonded with him through sharing your grief. "
"As friends, Xabat," Harper murmured, her hand reaching out and curling around mine, her skin warm against my rougher palm. "We are friends. Good friends and nothing more. There was never anything remotely romantic between us."
"Never?" I pressed, my throat tight, afraid to hope, afraid to believe what I was hearing.
"Never," Harper assured me, lifting my hand and holding it against her chest where I felt the softness of her breasts and the steady thump, thump, thump of her heart beneath my fingers. "In fact, he asked my advice once about how to approach someone he was interested in."
"He did?" The hope in my chest flared brighter, spreading warmth through my body like wildfire.
"He did," Harper smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners in that way that made my heart stutter. "Someone he was working with."