“Yes,” she urged, trying to thrust back against him.
His laugh was pure male satisfaction. Then he slid into her in one smooth, powerful thrust. She cried out at the sudden, fullness of it, at the way it hit that perfect spot inside her that made her whole body sing. He began to move, slow and deep at first, then faster, harder, as she pushed back to meet him, taking him as deep as she could, her fingers tangled in the furs beneath them.
They moved together in a rhythm as old as time, climbing higher and higher until the world fell away and there was nothing but sensation—heat and pressure and the building wave of something monumental. She felt the moment he lost himself, felt his teeth graze the curve where her shoulder met her neck,felt the sharp, sweet sting as he bit down and claimed her as his mate.
The wave crested and broke, and she shattered beneath him, his name on her lips, but he kept moving, drawing out her pleasure, chasing his own. His thrusts became more erratic, more desperate, until he came with a hoarse shout, pulsing inside her as he found his release. His knot expanded, an overwhelming stretch that sent her over again.
For a long moment, they were both still, their mingled cries echoing in the quiet room, their bodies locked together. His breath was hot against her neck, his heart thundering against her back, and she could feel the faint, throbbing mark where he’d claimed her. She was his. And he was hers.
Afterwards, they lay tangled together in the furs, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on her stomach.
“Are you all right?” His voice was rough, sated. “I didn’t hurt you?”
“No. You were perfect.”
“Hardly.” But she could hear the smile in his voice. He brushed his thumb across the mark he’d left on her shoulder. “This changes things, you know. Among my people, the mate bond is permanent. Unbreakable.”
“Good.”
“Jessa—”
“I mean it.” She turned her head to press a kiss to his palm. “I want something permanent. Something real. Something that lasts.”
“Even with a broken exile?” The question was light, but she could hear the vulnerability beneath it. “A monster who was cast out by his own people?”
“You’re not a monster. You’re a healer. A protector. The male I love.”
The last word hung in the air between them, heavy with meaning.
“Say that again.”
“The male I love.” She smiled at him over her shoulder. “Did you miss it the first time?”
“I want to hear it a thousand more times.” His arms tightened around her, pulling her close. “A million times. For the rest of our lives.”
“That can be arranged.”
His hand slid down over her stomach, teasing her already sensitive body, and soon they were moving together once more, slower this time, savoring each sensation, each whispered word of love and promise.
CHAPTER 23
Tarek watched the arrow arc through the morning air, a perfect trajectory that ended with a soft thump as it buried itself in the grazer’s side. The animal stumbled, took three more steps on unsteady legs, and then collapsed into the tall grass at the edge of the meadow.
He waited, crouched in the shadow of a boulder, counting heartbeats. When the grazer didn’t rise, he emerged from his hiding spot and crossed the open ground with long, silent strides.
The kill had been clean. His arrow had found the heart, or close enough to it—the animal hadn’t suffered. He crouched beside the body, running his hand over the coarse brown fur, feeling the last traces of warmth fading beneath his palm.
Thank you,he thought, the words an old habit from his training days.Your death gives life.
He’d almost forgotten what it felt like to hunt for others. For years, he’d taken only what he needed for himself—a cottma here, a bird there, enough to sustain his solitary existence butnever more. The idea of excess had seemed obscene when he was the only mouth to feed.
Now there were three.
The thought made his beast rumble with satisfaction, even though it had been denied the pleasure of the hunt. His mate and her sister, waiting for him in the den he’d built, trusting him to provide for them and keep them safe in a world that had given them precious little safety.
He drew his knife and began to dress the kill, his movements quick and efficient. The grazer was young, its meat would be tender. Jessa could make stew, or perhaps roast it over the fire with the herbs he’d gathered?—
He froze as the scent reached him. His nostrils flared, his beast surging to the surface with a snarl of warning.
