He spoke against her mouth when he answered, “A friend? Of course. I will be that and more, my soft Clementine.”
“M-More?”
Dark eyes gleamed at her from beneath thick, spiky lashes. She swore she could feel his mouth curve into a smile even when he put a small amount of distance between them. “Much more.”
ChapterNine
It seemed impossible,but Emory was beginning to believe that his mate had no intention of trying to kill him.
How odd.
He was thrown off-kilter, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t cautiously pleased. It was a rare thing to choose a mate and have them choose you back without at least a tussle or two. Merfolk generally felt compelled to at least put up alittlebit of a fight, if only for show, so that their partner would have something to brag about to the pod later.
In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he realized he couldn’t recall a single instance where a mate didn’t try to fight or runonce.When his mate led him into her home, he half expected her to have some trap laid.
But there was none. It made him wary.
She didn’t attack him, nor take advantage of his clumsier nature on land to immobilize him. She didn’t use the powerful magic he felt coursing through her veins when they touched to protect herself. She simply lay beneath him, trusting and submissive, eyes huge in her pretty face.
“You are very trusting,” he observed, a little dismayed. He’d known he was her perfect mate, one who already understood all her needs as a land dweller and would be patient with her, but that certainty had since crystallized.
Any podmate could have plucked his treasure from her cove. She wouldn’t have fought or defended her territory. He didn’t think it was because she was weak, necessarily, but because she was shockingly docile.
Gods, she even let me kiss her.
None of his kind would have allowed him so near to the soft flesh of their mouth without at least a warning snap. But his Clementine only made a tantalizing sound of wonder as he cautiously pressed his mouth to hers, then dared to taste the salt of her skin with his tongue.
He was delighted by her, but the discovery of her sweet nature only made him more possessive, more driven to claim her before the pod returned. If they knew that a mate so gentle, who wouldn’t even dream of using her blunt little claws on them, lay unclaimed…
“Are you planning on hurting me?”
The question caught him off-guard. Emory pulled back enough for her to see his frown. Releasing her hair, he cupped the back of her neck and slowly pulled her forward until she was sitting more or less upright, the liver held in her lap by limp fingers.
She let him guide her up, the very picture of trust, as if he was not handling the most delicate bones in her body, or pressing the pad of his thumb against the fragile, ridged column of her windpipe. His gaze flicked to the rope bracelet she’d given him.
Did she know that a gift of rope was how his people displayed their claims on one another? He doubted it. In fact, he was fairly certain she had no idea whatsoever that he’d been courting her.
It was fortunate for her that he fully intended on keeping her regardless.
“Never,” he answered, stroking her throat with the reverence it deserved. “You are mine.” And the bracelet on his wrist said that he was hers. Wholly and completely.
If she wanted to take the claim back, that was just too damn bad.
It should have been impossible, but Clementine’s eyes — hazel, he now realized, not the brown he’d thought — widened further. “What does that mean exactly?”
“It means that you are my mate. This is our island. We will share a cove and I will hunt for you, provide for your needs, and you will do the same for me.” He paused, realized he disliked the idea of her attempting to hunt for him, and amended, “You shouldn’t hunt. I will do that. Maybe you can gather bird eggs from the cliffs? My father did that when I was young.”
“Um, I don’t?—”
He stroked her neck again and savored the way the magic under her skin hummed against the sensitive nerves in his finger pads. Whatever his mate was, she had magic in spades. He could practically taste it in the air around her — tinny and delicious, like fresh blood.
“Don’t worry. I will keep you fed regardless.” Emory straightened his shoulders, displaying his fitness for her. “You will always have a full belly, and I will bring you more when you are bred.”
Clementine blinked. “When I’m what?”
“When I mount and breed you.” A deep, throbbing ache took up residence behind his slit, but he was stopped from looking like a randy teenager who couldn’t keep his cock in by the expression of alarm that slowly dawned on her face.
“Don’t worry,” he rushed to reassure her, “I will be very careful. I understand how fragile you are.”
