One moment I am beside her on the furs, the next she is on her back, the impact stealing her breath. I am over her, around her, my larger body caging hers, blocking out the firelight, the world, everything but the hard press of me and the predatory gleam I know is in my eyes.
My free hand hooks into the neck of her simple tunic.
And I pull. Fabric rips.
The sound is sharp, violent, utterly final in the quiet tent.
Cool air hits her skin, followed instantly by the heat of my gaze.
Then my claws.
Retractable, lethal, but now I use them to shred what remains of her clothing. With a frantic, tearing urgency that speaks to a need far beyond simple lust. It is the need to remove barriers. To get to her skin. To claim.
In seconds, she is naked beneath me, exposed to the firelight, to the heat of the brazier, and most of all, to the sheer, overwhelming force of me.
Fear lances through her, sharp and cold. A primal fear of a predator too large, too strong, too lost to instinct. She tries to shift, to bring her knees up, to create some small space, but it is useless.
My legs pin hers.
My weight settles, an anchor she cannot move.
“Vah.”
The word is a command. A snarl.
Stay.
My hand moves from the tattered remains of her clothes to her hip, the grip bruising. I hold her down, a clear demonstration of control, of power.
My eyes, the pupils blown wide with lust and something darker, scan her body.
I am not looking at her.
I am looking at her pussy.
At the place I will breed.
“Now I take what is mine,” I rasp, my other hand fisting in her hair, forcing her head back, exposing the long line of her throat.
I shift my hips, and she feels me.
Hard. Hot. Impossibly large.
The blunt head of me prods at her entrance, a blunt, intimidating pressure.
There is no preparation. No gentleness.
Only the certainty of what is to come.
I am too big. This will hurt.
I feel her tension, the way her body tenses like a bowstring, and instead of pausing, it seems to spur me on.
I lean down, my fangs scraping against the sensitive skin of her neck.
A shiver, pure and electric, runs through her. Not of pleasure. Not exactly. Of… intensity.
“I am going to fuck you, Narai,” I breathe the words against her skin, a dark, possessive promise. “I am going to fill this soft human cunt with my seed until it takes. Until your belly swells with my child.”
