THREK
My words, "Now, you are truly mine," hang in the sacred, silent air of the salt circle.
The magic hums in our joined, bound wrists, a warm, invisible chain that connects my blood to hers. I lean down and kiss her. It is a slow, deep, final sealing of the vow, a taste of her lips and my promise.
I pull back, and my new, hazel eyes are filled with a hunger that is deeper than the Urog's rage, a hunger that has been buried and starving for a lifetime. It is a hunger of the soul, and it is mixed with a love so bright and sharp it hurts.
I look at my mate. My mate.
Her blue eyes are shining with tears and a trust so absolute it humbles me. She is everything.
"Betty," I say, my voice a hoarse, reverent rumble, thick with an emotion I am still learning to name. "My wife."
I bend, sliding one massive, green arm under her knees and the other behind her back. I lift her from the circle. She is nothing in my arms, a leaf, a tiny, precious weight that I could crush, but never will. I carry her from the sacred space of the salt to the new, large bed of furs I prepared.
I lay her down, and our bound hands rest between us on the dark fur, the twine a physical reminder of our souls' chain. She is still in her simple, human clothes, and I kneel beside the furs, a warrior prostrate before his queen.
"Betty. My mate," I say again, my voice shaking with the force of my need and my love. "You are so beautiful. But you are wearing too much. Let me see my wife."
Unlike the Urog, I do not rip. Unlike the animal, I do not tear. My hands, which remember only breaking things, are shaking with the agonizing need to be gentle. I slowly untie the crude laces of her tunic, my large, green fingers fumbling with the small knots.
"So slow," I groan, a sound of frustration.
She laughs, a small, breathless sound, and lifts her free hand to help me.
"No," I command, my voice gentle but firm. I catch her hand and kiss her palm. "I will do this. I will undress you. I will see every part of my mate."
“Threk…” she moans, nodding and gazing at me with so much love it almost brings me to my knees.
I peel the layers of wool and linen from her small, pale body, my gaze feasting on every inch of skin I uncover. The firelight kisses her skin, making her glow. She shivers under my gaze, and I know it has nothing to do with the cold.
I have her naked.
She lies open to me on the dark furs, a pale star in my den. My mind can finally process her beauty without the red haze, and it is overwhelming.
"Gods, Betty..." I breathe, my hand hovering over her stomach, afraid to touch without permission. "You are perfect. So small. So white. My star. You are built so perfectly for me."
She nods, her eyes heavy-lidded with need. Yes.
That is all the permission I need.
I start my worship. I kiss her mouth, slowly. Then, I map her. I kiss her jaw. I taste the salt on her throat. I suck on her earlobe, my hot breath making her gasp and arch against the furs.
"I am going to taste all of you, Betty," I whisper against her skin, my voice thick and filthy with promise. "I am going to learn every part of my mate. I have wanted this since I was a beast, locked in my head. Now... I can tell you how good you taste."
I move down. My mouth closes over her nipple. It beads instantly, a hard, tight point. I suck it deep into my mouth, laving it with my tongue, flicking it with the memory of Namir's skill.
I growl my appreciation. "You taste like fialon berries and hope, Betty. So sweet. Does my mouth feel good on your breast? Tell me."
"Yes," she gasps, her fingers digging into my shoulder. "Gods, Threk, yes..."
I move lower, licking a hot path down her stomach, dipping my tongue into her navel. She shrieks at the sensation. I move all the way down her small, perfect body. I take her foot in my massive hand. It is tiny. I kiss her ankle. Then, looking up her body, watching her writhe in the furs, I suck each of her toes, one by one, a primal, possessive act of total devotion.
This slow, worshipful torture drives her wild. She is arching off the furs, her bound hand pulling at my own bound wrist, the twine connecting us.
"Threk... Gods, Threk... please," she sobs, her voice desperate. "I need you. I need you inside me. Please stop playing and fuck me."
I laugh. A deep, rumbling, joyful sound erupts from my chest. I finally can. "Not yet, my mate," I growl, crawling up her body. "I have dreamed of this night. I dreamed of tasting you properly."
