Mated to the Warrior Beast

Breath shallow and quick, once he’d released the last button, Tarkyn slowly placed his fingertips on the flat of her stomach, then dragged them up, under the fabric, until he cupped both breasts, taking the weight of them.

She sucked in when his calloused palms brushed over those tight peaks that he couldn’t yet see. He teased her for a moment, playing both thumbs over her nipples so that she gave a tiny jerk and bit her lip.

But she hadn’t dropped his gaze.

‘Mine,’ he breathed through the link.

And when she smiled, smug pleasure rippled through him-only to be overwhelmed by an awed ache as, without looking away from him, she popped the buttons on her leathers and shoved them down so that they sagged to her ankles where she gave a little step-never moving out of his touch-and kicked them away.

Then she stood in front of him, practically naked, only hidden behind the thin cotton of her open shirt.

Neither of them were laughing anymore.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered. “I’m so glad that it’s you, Harth. So stunned that you’re here. You’re really here. In our home. This is our home, my love.”

.....

Her forehead pinched into lines, and for a moment he thought he’d made her sad. But then-much more smoothly than he’d managed it, and while he still cupped and played with her breasts, she rolled her shoulders back, grabbed the bottom hem of the shirt behind her, and tugged it down so it slid from her arms to the floor and she was revealed.

A growl of approval puttering in his throat, Tarkyn tore his eyes from hers to scan down her body, savoring every inch.

But he was still staring when she whispered his name and lifted her hands to his belt.

He swallowed convulsively, like an adolescent, new to his own body. “Are you certain?” he whispered.

Harth raised her eyebrows and tugged at his belt so that the leather length slapped at his thighs and the buckle clinked. Her fingers flew to the buttons on his fly and she dragged her eyes down, smiling.

“Tarkyn, if the events of my life have taught me anything, it is to grasp joy the moment it presents itself.” Teeth biting into her lower lip, she slid her hand into his leathers and stroked him. Tarkyn sucked in a heavy breath, his hands stilling on her breasts. But before he could speak, she kept going. “You have to grab at joy, Tarkyn, because you never know when things will change and it might be stolen from you.”

Then she pumped him, twice.

He descended on her, growling, rolling his hips to press himself into her touch and when their lips met, she kissed him with abandon, her breath thundering in his ear.

But he was beginning to shake. He shucked off his leathers and, without hesitation, picked her up to turn and lay her on the furs, crawling up after her as she pushed herself back, deeper onto the bed until she could rest her head on his pillow.

Their pillow.

Her pillow.

She was home.

With the mating call shuddering out of his throat, he dragged one hand up her calf, cupped the back of her knee, then trailed his fingers up the back of her thigh until he could lower himself to rest between her legs.

More kisses, and the world became smaller, the sunlight dappling through the leaves on the tree outside and shivering on her skin as he kissed and tasted, stroked and rubbed himself against her.

And she pulled at him, stroking all of him, her breath coming faster as she answered him touch for touch.

‘Harth, love, are you sore?’ he asked in the intimacy of the bond. ‘I don’t want to hurt you if-‘

‘Not really. But Tarkyn, I don’t care anyway. I want you. I want all of you.’

He was about to make her pause, to ask for clarity-make sure she wasn’t spending herself just for reassurance he could give her in many ways, when she pulled herself up by wrapping her arms around his neck, and took his mouth in a deep, searing kiss. Then she leaned back, pulling him down so he covered her, wrapping her legs around his thighs and breathing his name with an edge of desperation.

Tarkyn was overwhelmed, his body leaping to find her. For a moment it was all he could do to fight the beast within as he rocked against her, finding her there, already ready for him, already tilting her hips to guide him, her hands clawing at his back, her lips a soft world of want.

He had to wrestle back his beast that wanted to roar and to take, to possess her... to claim her!

Creator’s mane... That thought made him shudder. But it lit a fire of excitement in him too. His mind racing with visions of telling her about the claiming, asking her permission when the time was right-and then marking her his when they were truly alone.

The thoughts lit a fire in him that fed the flames already in his blood. He trembled with need and Harth gasped, pulling him against her, tilting her hips again to find him.

“Please, Tarkyn.”

Cupping one hand over her hair, he braced on the other, leaning down to take her mouth and delving with his tongue at the same time that he entered her in a single thrust.

Harth gave a happy little cry and arched into him.

And then they began to move together, as if they’d been doing this for years. As if they heard the same drums. And perhaps they did-perhaps they danced to the rhythm of their hearts that seemed to beat in time.

But the more they moved, the smaller the world became until he’d forgotten everything but her.

Inhaling her gorgeous scent, he pushed back to watch her writhe beneath him, marveling at the sheer beauty of her. His mate. His Pair. His True Heart’s Call.

She’d never leave him-not by choice-and they’d never have to stop.

He couldn’t fathom it.

Dark thoughts wanted to intrude-fears, angers, resentments-but he pushed them away, unwilling to break the moment.

Thank you, he prayed. Thank you for her. For this. Thank you for saying yes.

Then Tarkyn let go of everything else that existed, and turned his entire existence to her.