“I know,” I whisper. “I know what you need. Take it.”
Andrik-
Her lips crash to mine, and I’m gone. Her mouth is soft and warm. Everything I’ve been craving for thousands of years. I kiss her back like I’m drowning and she’s my only breath, like if I stop, I’ll cease to exist.
My hands grip her hips, claws biting through the fabric. She’s in my lap, tight against me, and I can’t let go because part of me still believes she’ll vanish if I do.
The world spins around me.
Everything is her. Her taste. Her scent. Herviraepressed hot and soaked to my fur. (Pussy.)
Saelûn. Kaemorin. MINE.
I break the kiss only because I have to breathe, and even then, I can’t pull away. My forehead stays against hers, panting harshly.
“Andrik,” she whispers, fingers buried in my fur, my black fur, wrong and right all at once. “What do you need?”
You.
Everything.
Forever.
But the words won’t come, only Vraksûn spills from my lips.
“Kai’lunaeth ves morin. Thrahk—velorin—Saelûn—” (Your heat is destroying me. Fuck—you’re safe—soulmate.)
She cups my face and forces me to meet her eyes.
“I know I’m safe with you,” She says firmly. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m not scared. Tell me how to help.”
I try so hard to focus—to find the English through the haze of whatever this is, but all I manage is, “You—thrahk—need to taste you?—”
Her eyes darken.
“Then taste me.”
I don’t need to be told twice.
I shift her from my lap, lowering her to the pallet. Her back hits the furs, and she giggles.Thalûn, that sound.
Her legs fall open as my body covers hers. One hand digs into the moss beside her, claws gouging deep enough to keep them off her skin. The blue flames dance around us, casting shadows across her flesh.
She’s still wearing my shirt with nothing else beneath it. I drag a single claw slowly down the center, and the fabric parts like it was never meant to be whole. Her breasts spill free, perfect teardrops that rise and fall with her quickening breaths. Her nipples are a shade darker than her skin, light bronze, peaked and hard, begging for my mouth.
They’d fill a human’s hand, but in mine? They’d look breakable.
Kaemorin ves’tharl. Kaemorin ves’thrak.(Mine to worship. Mine to ruin.)
She’s completely bare beneath me now.
Thalûn. This is all for me.
“Andrik?” she breathes. There’s a tremble in her voice. I realize I’ve been staring.
“Beautiful,” I rasp. “You’re so beautiful, Lumi.”
I cup her breasts, and she moans, arching into my palms. They’re so soft, like nothing I’ve ever held—the perfect weight in my calloused hands.
