The hum in my head spikes into a roar of pleasure.
“Stay,” the thought commands, heavy and lazy. “Perfect fit.”
“I can hear you purring in my brain,” I croak, my voice raspy from the water and the screaming.
Sarven stirs. He lifts his head, blinking bleary eyes at me. The deep starry voids are fading, his natural crimson coming through. He looks like a dragon waking up on a hoard of gold, except the gold is me, and he looks ready to bite anyone who tries to make a withdrawal.
“Good sound,” he projects, nuzzling his cold nose against my jaw. “Happy sound.”
“It’s loud,” I mutter, though I’m fighting a smile. “Is there a volume knob on this bond? Or a mute button?”
He pulls back just enough to look at me, genuine confusion growing in the mindspace.
“Mute?” The concept reaches me as a disturbing image of a severed tongue.
“No, not—Jesus, never mind.” I laugh, which jostles our joined bodies. The sensation of him moving inside me sends a fresh, startling jolt of heat straight to my core.
Sarven’s red irises get even darker.
“Heat,” he notices instantly. “You want… more?”
His hips buck. A shallow, instinctive thrust that hits a spot deep inside me I didn’t even know had a zip code.
“Oh,” I gasp, gripping his biceps to steady the world. “No. I mean, yes, but no. We’re stuck. We physically cannot do more.”
He looks down at where our bodies are fused. Another wave of smug satisfaction crashes into my mind so hard it nearly knocks the wind out of me.
“Knot holds,”he projects, looking incredibly proud of himself. “Good knot.”
“Great knot,” I agree, patting his cheek. “A-plus knotting. You get a gold star. But we have a problem.”
His ears swivel, alerted by the change in my tone. “Problem?”
“The water,” I say aloud, trying to keep my thoughts focused so he gets the picture. “The clan. We’ve been gone a long time. People are sick.”
The reminder shatters the smug golden hum in the mindspace.
“The water,” he echoes.
He tries to pull away, but he can’t.
He shifts his hips, trying to withdraw, but the knot is utterly unyielding. It’s locked in place like a spherical deadbolt. He winces, a flash of frustration spiking through the bond.
“Stuck,” he grumbles.
“Yeah. That’s how knots work.” I run my hand down his back, tracing his spine. “We just have to wait for you to… deflate.”
He freezes.
“De-flate?” The word translates in his head to something like ‘wither’ or ‘die’ or ‘fall off.’
“Calm down.” I have to suppress a snort. “Relax. It goes down when you relax. You have to stop being…” I gesture to all of him. “…a giant wall of possessive intent.”
He huffs, dropping his forehead to my shoulder with a dramatic sigh.
“Do not want to relax.” The thought is so sulky, I have to suppress another smile. “Want to stay. Here. Inside.”
“I know,” I whisper. “Me too.”
