“I thought you denounced the gods,” I murmur. I give her short pumps as a tease.
Go slow. Don’t hurt your mate. I watch as her body slowly takes me, inch by inch.
“A cock this huge made me a believer again.”
I shift her hips by sliding my arm beneath her. She swings her leg up, planting her heel in the groove of my spine.
I sink further in. “Am I hurting you?” I pant.
“In the best way possible.” She swivels her hips, encouraging me.
I slide my hand over and stroke her while I push as far as I can go. “Selene,” I gasp. If she squeezes me any harder, I won’t be able to withdraw.
We move together, holding each other tight, but it’s still not enough. I hoist her leg over my shoulder, determined to go deeper.
“You trying to stab my heart?” A moan escapes her with a smirk. “Yes, right there, gods,”she throws her head back.
I thrust so hard we slide an inch along the floor. “Don‘t start praising the gods now. It’s me buried inside of you. Not the gods.”
“Are you sure you’re not a god? No man has ever taken me like this,”
“No man will ever take you again. I’m the past, present, and future. The memory, the reality, and the dream. Your mate.”
“You did the impossible,” Selene coos, “You made me a dreamer. I love you.”
My heart races wildly. "I love you too, Selene." I slow my rhythm, moving inside her to savor every hot, velvet inch of her embrace.
She rolls her head to the side, exposing her neck to me. “Do it.” Our eyes meet. “Make me yours, Titus. Make me yours in every way possible.”
I withdraw and then slide in. Again and again. I feel Selene starting her orgasm. Another slow thrust pushes us past thelimit. While her body convulses in pleasure, I lean down and sink my fangs deep into her neck. “Mine.”
Chapter
Thirty-Eight
Selene.
The past.
The tent quivers as the warrior’s boots walk past. Their harsh, loud steps felt as natural as my heartbeat. As their shadows fall, the fabric groans and flaps.
I stand like a cloud ready to thunder down tears as the rows of soldiers march to battle. I scan my tent, spotting my bed. How many cots will remain empty? Without a body, how many blankets won’t warm up? How many miles will remain untrodden by the warriors who won’t march home?
My teeth sink into my chapped lip. I shut my eyes and turn my head toward the door. Swords running over whetstones, strings being pulled into bows, soldiers doing last-minute war rituals were as common as brushing the knots from my hair.
“I’m tired,” I whisper to no one.
I tug on the straps of the helmet I stole. My fingers trace the arch of the longbow. I will not wait for another victim in the healer’s tent. I’m going to battle, dammit, and I’m fighting!
I’m done. I’m weary in both body and mind. I’ll go out in glory. Better than being bartered away as a pawn to another king.
The weight of the quiver I swing onto my back helps strengthen my spine. I move toward the back of my tent, dagger ready.
“Selene,” Everett whispers my name softly as he enters. Even from afar, his shadow reaches and grazes me.
The echo of my gnashing teeth grieves my ears. “Don’t stop me.”
A faint breeze stirred by his step cools my sweaty neck. “Then don’t ask me to.”
