“You want to have sex with me.” Her voice was curiously high-pitched, but it wasn’t a question. Still, he nodded. “And you want to— you want to get me pregnant.”
“Ideally, yes, we will make young. When you’re bred, no one will dare even think of snatching you from me.” He stroked his hand down her shoulder and her arm, learning all her exquisite textures and pheromones with his sensitive hands. “But it can take longer with land dwellers, so don’t worry if it doesn’t happen right away. I will keep trying.”
A soft, whistling note escaped her throat. Emory’s ears twitched. It almost sounded like she was trying to speak his language.
As he was attempting to decipher exactly what that sound might mean, Clementine jerked her shoulders, dislodging his hand. She scooted on her palms and backside until her bent knees were between them — a pitiful defense.
“Um, Emory, I think there might have been a misunderstanding somewhere.”
Ah,he thought as he watched reality at last present itself to her.Here is the fight.
Hunting instincts prickled. Bracing his palms on the floor, he watched her from under lowered brows. “There is no misunderstanding. You are mine to mate and mount and breed.” To illustrate his point, he lifted his right hand to display his bracelet. “I am yours. You claimed me.”
He didn’t appreciate the aghast look that came over her face, nor the way she squeaked, “I just had myfirst kiss!I’m not ready for— forbreeding.”
“What do you mean you just had your first kiss?” He cocked his head to one side, then the other, before a disturbing possibility flashed through his mind. Lips peeling back from his sharp teeth, he demanded, “Did you kiss someone on land?”
She gaped at him. “What?No.It was you! Just now!”
He’d been prepared to be furious, to demand his rival face him in the water so he could dispose of them and gift their corpse to Tempest, so he was dumbfounded by her answer.
“What are you saying?” There was no way he understood her correctly. His mate was grown — a luscious, beautiful, soft woman. He couldn’t believe that she had lived so long and not kissed another. He simply couldnot.
Clementine sucked a deep breath through her nose before she exhaled slowly from her mouth. Sounding marginally calmer, she replied, “See, that’s what I’m saying. You don’t know anything about me. You just learned myname.You don’t even know what my job is or who my parents are or whether I pair my socks before they go in the drawer. We aren’t mates. We’recertainlynot having kids!”
Emory shook his head. “I know you are my mate. I know you cry by yourself and like to pick up sea glass and say good morning to the seagulls and wear soft sweaters. I will know everything else in time because wearemates. And if you don’t want young, then I will greatly enjoy mounting you anyway.”
Of course, his instinctive drive to breed her wouldn’t change, particularly during this time of year, but that didn’t mean they had to have young immediately — or at all. He wanted to be a father with a deep, bruised sort of yearning, a feeling that welled up from old grief and missed opportunities with his own father, but would also sooner rip the piercing out of his dorsal fin than pressure his mate into something she didn’t want.
Besides, it was the mounting that was the fun part.
Clementine opened her mouth to respond, but Emory cut her off. “Explain about your first kiss now. Tell me what you meant.”
Her mouth snapped shut. Clementine’s cheeks darkened as her eyes darted about, landing on everything but him as she tried to slowly scoot back a few more inches. He followed her retreat, of course. When it looked like she might let the liver slide out of her lap in her haste to get away, he reached around her knees to snatch it with his claws.
Setting it aside, he wrapped his webbed fingers around her ankles to halt her retreat. “My Clementine, if you run, it will only make me want to mount you more.”
She made that sound again — a high, breathy whistle from deep in the back of her throat. Her expression was pained when she replied, “I just meant thatyouwere my first kiss. Ever. I’ve— I’ve never?—”
Emory’s mouth went as dry as sandstone. “You’ve never been kissed before?”
Her chin dipped. Wavy locks of dark brown hair fell to obscure her face when she shook her head.
He sucked in a deep breath. “And you’ve never been mounted before? By anyone?”
Another shake of her head.
His mind reeled. Certainly he’d known a few beings who did not enjoy sex and didn’t wish to, but the idea was still so foreign to him that he struggled to understand it. His kind were free with their sexuality and its expression from maturity onward. One reason mates were so coveted was not only because they were few, but because so many of his kind just didn’t want to settle down with a single partner.
They had to be seduced, tricked, coerced, enticed, and wrestled into it, but once there, they were fiercely monogamous. It took so much effort because it was vital to never settle for a partner less than absolutely worthy of you and your future offspring. Until that right person came along, there was no harm in indulging frequently, so long as you didn’t mind the risk that your partner might try to drown you if you displeased them.
The idea that his Clementine, who was the most beautiful creature in all the world, had never been approached by an acceptable partner was…
Galling.
“That wasnotyour first kiss,” he barked, outraged on her behalf.
Her head snapped up. Brows puckering with confusion, she said, “Itwas.”
