For now, I was Vale's. His muse. His melody. His mate. The song he hummed as I drifted to sleep was the most beautiful thing I'd ever heard.
Chapter Thirty-Three
LILY
Thane was waiting for me in the main nest.
Not with the commanding presence of Kaelan, or the fierce hunger of Riven, or Vale's artistic anticipation. Thane waited with something almost like nervousness—his golden scales catching the light, his warm amber eyes watching me with a mix of desire and uncertainty.
Through the bond, I could feel his emotions—love, yes, burning bright and steady. But also a thread of anxiety. The youngest of the pack. The gentlest. The one who had never been first for anything in his long life. Vale had carried me back from his crystal cave, pressing a kiss to my forehead before handing me gently into Thane's waiting arms. As Thane's warmth enveloped me, I felt the heat stir again—gentler now, after days of satisfaction, but still persistent. Still demanding.
"The heat is almost over I think," I murmured against Thane's chest, breathing in his scent—honey and warm sunlight and something that reminded me of home. "I can feel it. One more... maybe two. And then it will break."
"I know." His voice was soft, almost hesitant. His hands stroked down my back with such gentleness it made my heart ache. "I can feel it through the bond. The intensity is fading." A pause. "I wanted... I hoped I could be the one to take you through the end of it."
I pulled back to look at his face—beautiful in a different way than Vale, handsome rather than pretty, with warm features and kind eyes. Through the bond, I felt his vulnerability—the fear that he wasn't enough, that the others had already given me everything I needed, that his gentleness couldn't compete with their intensity.
"You're exactly what I need," I said firmly, cupping his face in my hands. "Right now, after everything, what I need is you. Your gentleness. Your warmth. Your love."
His eyes widened, and I felt a surge of emotion through the bond—hope and love and a fierce determination to prove himself worthy of my trust. He pulled me into a kiss that started soft but deepened as his confidence grew, his tongue stroking against mine with growing assurance.
"Let me take you to my place," he murmured against my lips. "I want to show you something." He carried me through tunnels I hadn't explored yet, his strong arms cradling me against his chest. The passage opened into a cavern that made me gasp with wonder.
It was a garden.
Bioluminescent plants grew everywhere—not the cold blue light of the other caves, but warm gold and amber and honey-colored light that bathed everything in a sunset glow. Flowers I didn't recognize bloomed on every surface, their petals soft and velvety, their scents mingling into something sweet and intoxicating. In the center was a bed of moss and soft fronds, clearly prepared for exactly this purpose.
"I've been growing this for centuries," Thane said softly, setting me down on the moss. "Collecting plants from the surface world, from underwater gardens, from everywhere. I always imagined bringing my mate here." His voice dropped. "Bringing you here."
Tears pricked at my eyes. "It's beautiful, Thane. It's perfect."
He smiled—shy and pleased—and lowered himself beside me. His hands trembled slightly as they touched my face, my shoulders, my arms. Through the bond, I could feel him steadying himself, gathering his courage.
"I'm not... I'm not like the others," he said quietly. "I can't command like Kaelan, or possess like Riven, or enchant like Vale. I'm just?—"
"You're exactly what I need," I repeated, pulling him down for a kiss. "Stop comparing yourself to them. You're mine, Thane. My mate. My keeper. And I want you."
The heat chose that moment to surge, a wave of need rolling through me that made me gasp. But it was different from before—softer, warmer, less desperate. It felt like a tide coming in rather than a storm breaking. Through the bond, I felt Thane's desire rise to meet mine—tender and sweet, but no less powerful for its gentleness. His hands became more confident as they explored my body, learning the curves and lines of me with reverent attention.
"Tell me what you need," he murmured, his lips brushing my throat. "Tell me how to touch you."
"Just touch me," I breathed. "However you want. I trust you."
His hands cupped my breasts with such gentleness it made my heart ache, his thumbs brushing across my nipples with featherlight strokes. The pleasure was different from before—less overwhelming, more tender—building slowly rather than crashing over me in waves.
"So beautiful," he murmured, watching my face as he touched me. "Every part of you. I've dreamed of this for so long." His mouth replaced his hands, drawing one nipple between his lips with gentle suction. He didn't rush—didn't try to overwhelm me with sensation. He simply worshipped, kissing and licking and sucking until I was trembling with need. When he switched to the other breast, I threaded my fingers through his golden hair and pulled him closer, encouraging him without words. He seemed to gain confidence from my response, his touches becoming more assured, his mouth more insistent.
His hand slid down my stomach, tracing the line where my human skin met my siren scales. When his fingers found the transition point and stroked along it, I moaned at the sensation—still sensitive after days of heat, every nerve ending alive and aware.
"Here?" he asked, stroking the sensitive line again. "Does this feel good?"
"Yes," I gasped. "So good. More." He explored lower, his fingers tracing patterns on my scales, finding spots that made me gasp and shiver. He seemed to catalog each response, learning what made me moan and what made me keen, building a map of my pleasure with patient attention.
When he finally reached my vent, he paused, his fingers hovering at the edge of the already-parted opening. I could feel his breath quicken, could feel his desire pulsing through the bond, but still he held back—waiting for permission, waiting to be wanted.
"May I?" he asked softly.
The fact that he asked—after everything, after days of being taken and claimed and possessed—made something warm bloom in my chest. "Please."
