“And ye would do well to listen to her. She knows the dangers of this place well.” With more gentleness than his tone currently possessed, he reached out and touched her face, sliding his calloused fingers along her jawline and up into her hair. Her heart thumped faster, and her lips parted with the hunger to be kissed. “Yer Intuition, the pale alpha, abandoned the Realm centuries ago because of its dangers,” he said, his voice falling to a raspy whisper.
“She didn’t abandon it.” Calia felt the need to come to her inner voice’s defense. “They hunted her down and tried to destroy her. Bansys had something to do with that, too. Intuition said the goddesses saved her by reincarnating her with me.” Even though her inner voice remained silent, Calia sensed Intuition was pleased. A fleeting contentment spread its wings like happy little butterflies flitting through her. “She hasn’t had an easy time of it either. She and I have that in common.”
“The goddesses would not have gifted the two of ye to each other if it were otherwise.” Pure, unadulterated need rolled off Mathison in waves, crashing into her and daring her to embrace the storm and enjoy the ride. “That is yet another reason that proves we are fated mates,” he said. “We struggle, yet we overcome.” He bent his head, leaning in as he guided her closer, until his warm breath tickled across her, and his lips brushed hers. “Ye are mine, Calia. Admit it.”
“Just kiss me,” she whispered, silently admitting complete and utter defeat.
“Not until ye say it.” He teased her mouth with his, tempting her flailing control even more. “Tell me ye are mine.”
She slid her hands up his muscular expanse of chest and closed her eyes. “Fine. I am yours.”
“Nay, lass. Open yer eyes and tell me.” He nuzzled her cheek, tickling her with the short bristles of his beard. “Tell me as if ye mean it. Speak to me with yer heart.”
Knowing the battle was well and truly lost, she did as he’d said and locked eyes with him. A sigh escaped her, not one of defeat or resignation, but more like a sigh of at last. “I am yours, Mathison. God help you.”
“Aye,” he rumbled, then took her mouth with an inexplicable power, an almost electrical hit, that surged between them with a force both thrilling and terrifying.
She clung to him, knowing that if she didn’t, she wouldn’t be able to remain standing. All strength left her. The strength to stand, the strength to fight, the strength to shy away from any connection with another human being—all of it disappeared in a blinding flash of enlightened knowing. This was right. Mathison would never hurt her.
Then her knees gave out, and he sensed it as if he knew her better than she knew herself. He swept her up into his arms without breaking their connection, kissing her deeply and kissing her hard. He kissed her as she’d never been kissed before.
Crossing the room to the rug in front of the hearth, he lay her on the floor and settled over her. She wrapped her legs around him and arched to meet him, suddenly wishing she’d picked a pair of jeans that weren’t quite so snug. She’d have to peel off this pair—because yes, even against her better judgement, she was doing this.
He broke the phenomenal kiss for the span of half a heartbeat. “Kick off those feckin’ boots. I shall take care of the rest.”
She laced her fingers in his long, thick hair and pulled him down for another kiss as she complied. A groaning moan escaped her. Heaven help her, she wished these clothes she’d fought so hard to keep from disappearing would go ahead and do it now. Then, the rough weave of his kilt and the muscled hardness of his legs flexed against her bare thighs. The warm air from the fireplace caressed her skin on one side while the cooler air touched her on the side away from the fire. Shocked at her sudden lack of clothing, she pushed Mathison, making him lift his head. “Did you make my clothes go away or did I?”
“I dinna ken, nor do I care.” He settled more comfortably between her legs and shoved his kilt out of the way. “All I know is that I need ye with the fury of the blazing mate bond. Forgive me, lass, I swear next time will be the slow savoring ye deserve.”
She fully understood. The need for him to take her had become painful in a deliciously exciting way. “Just do it already.”
As he buried himself with that first deep plunge, his victorious roar echoed through the room. She met him thrust for thrust, spiraling out of control and not caring that she did. When she reached the pinnacle of this ultimate pleasure, a throaty scream tore out of her. Then she crashed and shook as wave after wave of the purest bliss surged through her. She had to be dying and shooting up into the heavens, or exploding into shards of energy. Whatever it was, it was more addictive than any drug, and it was all hers.
Then he collapsed, locking his arms just in time to keep from crushing her.
She pulled him down the rest of the way, hungry for the feel of him pressed atop her. “You should have wished away your clothes, too.” She reached down, bunched up his kilt, and grazed her fingernails along his thigh and fine, muscular behind.
“I did not wish yer clothes away,” he said soft and low across her mouth. His muscles tightened and flexed beneath her touch. He nuzzled kisses along her jawline, down her neck, and along the ridge of her shoulder. “As much as I wanted ye like this, I would never feel right about using my magic to strip ye bare.”
A distinct whine from across the room interrupted them.
“Oh, Otto.” Even though embarrassment heated her cheeks, she couldn’t honestly say she regretted what had just happened. “We may have scarred him for life.”
Mathison treated her to a slow, possessive kiss. “He understands. I believe that whine of his is because he’d rather be roaming the tower than trapped in here with us while we complete our binding.”
The bedroom door swung open, and Otto shot out into the hallway.
“Otto!” She stretched to reach for him even though it was futile. “What if he gets lost?”
The door closed, and the latch engaged with a loud metallic clatter.
“That I did do with my magic.” Propped on his elbows, Mathison smiled down at her. “He’ll not get lost. My steward Tanpip understands to have the footmen and the maids stay with yer Otto whenever the pup leaves this room.”
He trailed his thumb along her jawline. So many emotions flickered in his eyes that she swallowed hard. Old insecurities nipped at her, battling to steal the first genuine sense of contentment she’d felt in a very long while…if ever.
“I guess you think I’m a liar,” she said softly, half hoping he wouldn’t hear her.
His brow slowly furrowed over the befuddlement in his eyes. “Why would I think ye a liar?”
