His golden eyes went fierce. Possessive.
"Because you're mine."
The words should have made her bristle. It should have triggered every defensive instinct she had. Instead, they settled into her chest like an anchor.
She wanted to believe him. Wanted to trust that his clan’s claim meant something, and that the LMP couldn't just rip her away from everything she'd started to build here.
But wanting and having were different things. She'd learned that lesson early.
"Don't," Kirr growled the moment the door shut behind them. Harper opened her mouth—to apologize, to panic, to ask him what the hell they were going to do—but he was already crossing the distance between them. "Don't think. Not right now."
He didn't give her a chance to speak.
Instead, his hands clamped onto her waist and he hauled her against him. The impact knocked the wind out of her, and then all she could feel was him… solid and as immovable as a cliff. He looked down at her, golden eyes burning with a ferocity that stole the air from her lungs.
His fingers closed around her jaw, making her look up at him. "Eyes on me, kelarris."
She looked up, and his golden gaze caught her, locking her in so she couldn't look away.
Then his mouth crashed down on hers.
It wasn't a gentle kiss. It wasn't the comforting, tentative exploration they'd shared before. Nowhere near. This was something else. This was him staking a claim., and God, she needed it. She needed the dominance of his want and need to drown out the terror screaming in her head.
Making a broken sound in her throat, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back with everything she had… pouring all her exhaustion and fear into it. She didn't want to think about tomorrow. She wanted to forget everything apart from him.
He groaned, a low rumble that vibrated through her chest, and took control.
He swept her up into his arms, her feet leaving the floor as if gravity had quit, using her momentum to wrap her legs around his lean waist. He was huge, a solid wall of muscle and heat, and for the first time in her life, being small didn't feel like a disadvantage… She felt safe. Protected.
He didn't take her into her room. He strode past her door without even glancing at it.
Her pulse jumped as he carried her across the threshold of his bedroom. His space. She'd only glimpsed it through the open door before, so being carried here felt different. Felt permanent. She didn’t get more than a glimpse of the dim room, dominated by the huge bed covered in dark sheets and heavy furs, before he lowered her onto it.
He followed her down so she was pressed between the softness of the bed and his large, hard warrior's body. She caught her breath at the sheer scale of him. It was almost overwhelming. Seven feet of Latharian warrior loomed over her, blotting out the dim light, blotting out everything until her entire world narrowed down to the heated gold of his eyes and the weight of him on top of her.
"Mine," he rasped, his voice rough with need. He cupped her face, his thumb tracing her cheekbone. “So beautiful and all mine.”
Then he sat back, straddling her hips, his weight settled on his heels so he didn't crush her.
"Arms up," he ordered.
She started to lift her hands. Then stopped, biting her lip. What if he didn’t like what he saw? She’d seen images of latharian women in the archives. They had been tall and willowy, utterly beautiful. Nothing like her.
His eyes held hers. Patient. Waiting.
She raised her arms above her head.
He stripped her clothes quickly, utterly focused on every inch of skin that was revealed. Her tunic, her trousers, her underthings… he removed them like he was unwrapping a gift he'd been waiting a lifetime to open.
Then, finally, she lay naked beneath him, feeling exposed and vulnerable. Her hands twitched, every instinct she had urging her to cover up.
"No." His voice was quiet, but the command was absolute. "Keep them there."
Heat crawled over her cheeks, but she kept them there and something cracked open inside her chest.
His gaze dragged over her, and it felt just like he was touching her, caressing her. Then he reached out, tracing the curve of her waist with his fingertips, barely touching, just enough to make her skin tingle with need.
Down over the swell of her hip, then back up and along her ribs. Mapping her. Learning her.
