Isought altitude and tried not to think about her covered in my scent.
Failed completely.
Neck, wrists, between her breasts. I'd marked her everywhere Kethar might try to touch. The scent-marking had been necessary, strategic even. Kethar needed to know she was claimed, needed to understand that approaching her again meant facing me in combat. But touching her had nearly destroyed what remained of my control.
Her pulse had hammered under my hands. The heat of her skin had burned through me. She'd made this sound when I'd pressed my face between her breasts, half gasp and half whimper, pure need. And the smell of her arousal had flooded stronger with every touch, her body responding to mine even though I wasn't giving her any actual relief.
My breeding cock was so hard it hurt. Had been hard for three days straight now, to the point where flying took conscious effort. The knot kept swelling and subsiding, my body preparing for a mating that hadn't happened yet. Pre-come dripped constantly. I was leaking like an unbonded juvenile who'd never learned control.
I wrapped my hand around my cock and stroked. Rough, fast, trying to relieve some of the pressure. Didn't help. Never helped. My body knew the difference between my hand and her. Refused to settle for anything less than breeding her properly.
I came anyway. Seed spilled onto stone, more than usual because I'd been hard for days without proper release. But the orgasm felt hollow. Wrong in fundamental ways. My cock stayed hard, the knot still swollen, need still crushing down on me.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow she'll break and I can finally have her.
I forced myself to breathe. To think strategically instead of just flying down there and mounting her.
Tomorrow I'd take her to The Weeping Wall. The cave where warm water ran in sheets down rust-orange stone, pooling in a natural depression carved smooth by centuries of flow. Perfect for what I needed: confined space, warm water, nowhere for her to run. I'd put my mouth on her there. Make her come until she couldn't think straight. Until her body understood completely that only I could satisfy her. Until she was so desperate that when I pulled back and made her ask properly, she'd do it without hesitation.
But I wouldn't breed her. Not yet. Not until she said the words clearly, coherently, with full understanding of what came after.
The courtship ritual was specific for good reasons. Without proper verbal consent, without her choosing me with her mind as well as her body, the bond wouldn't take correctly. The consent required specific words: Bond me. Take me. The transformation would fail. Her wings wouldn't grow properly. She'd die screaming.
I'd watched it happen twice. Two females who'd been bred before they were ready, before they'd truly chosen. Both had died within days of transformation starting, their bodiesrejecting the change. The sounds they'd made still haunted me sometimes when I tried to sleep.
I wouldn't let that happen to her.
Even though my body was screaming at me to just go mount her. Even though three days of constant arousal was affecting my judgment, making me aggressive and irrational. Even though the unbonded sickness was slowly killing me and she was the only cure available.
I had to wait for her to choose.
Tomorrow. She'll choose tomorrow. She has to.
Night fell and I settled at my observation post overlooking The Amber Pools.
She was there. I could see her moving around the cave, restless. The tonic wouldn't let her sleep properly anymore. Good. The more desperate she became, the more clearly she'd be able to make the choice when I offered it.
Watching her try to eat was painful. She managed three bites of a protein bar before giving up. Her body didn't want food anymore. It wanted one very specific thing and she couldn't give it to herself.
Watching her bathe was worse. The warm water on her oversensitized skin made her gasp. Made her have to sit in the pool breathing hard, fighting the arousal spikes that came in waves.
Watching her touch herself was torture.
Sixth time today. Maybe seventh. She'd probably lost count by now.
She was in the furs. My furs, still saturated with my scent from when she'd been in my den earlier. Her hand moved between her legs, rubbing frantically. Desperate. She came. I could tell by the way her body tensed, by the small sound she made. But the orgasm was weak. Didn't satisfy anything. If possible, it made the need worse.
Her body was rejecting her own touch completely now. The tonic had restructured her chemistry to need mine specifically. Need me specifically. Without those things, she was going into chemical withdrawal.
That explained the cramping. The muscle spasms. The pain even when lying still. Her body was breaking down from lack of what it needed. By tomorrow morning, she'd be in real distress. Unable to function properly.
Perfect timing.
She'd come looking for me. Would ask for relief. And I'd give it to her, but not completion. Not breeding. Just enough to show her what she'd been missing. Just enough to make her understand that only I could give her what she needed.
Then I'd make her ask properly. Make her say the words clearly. Make her choose with full understanding.
And when she did, when she finally said "breed me" or "claim me" coherently and meant every word, I'd carry her back to my den and mount her properly. Would push my breeding cock inside her tight heat and knot her until she couldn't escape. Would fill her with enough seed that her womb had no choice but to accept it. Would give her the bite while I was still knotted inside her, flooding her system with bonding venom while her body was already overwhelmed with sensation.
