His grip tightens, anchoring me as he surges forward in one deep, possessive thrust. A gasp rips from my throat as he fills me completely, the stretch a delicious ache that steals my breath. He’s massive, unyielding, and the sensation of being so utterly claimed, so full of him, sends sparks arcing through my nerves.This. This overwhelming fullness, this desperate joining I’ve craved like air since he first stumbled into my tent, broken and needing. Since he first showed me tenderness could exist alongside this fierce, consuming fire.
He begins to move with a deep, powerful rhythm, each thrust driving me forward slightly only for his grip on my hips to pull me back hard onto him. No finesse, only raw, driving need. Each withdrawal is agonizing, each powerful surge back in floods me with heat and sensation. I arch my back instinctively, meeting his desperate rhythm, seeking that perfect angle where friction ignites into pure, mindless pleasure. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the grove, mingling with our ragged breathing and the sigh of the wind through the oaks. The tight coil deep in my belly pulls tighter, tighter, until it snaps with a violence that rocks through me, stealing my voice, leaving me trembling, my walls clenching rhythmically around his thick cock.
A dark chuckle rumbles from behind me, rough with satisfaction and exertion. One large hand slides up my spine, tangling in my hair, pulling my head back slightly. His breath is hot on my neck. “I’ll never get tired of watching you come on my cock, Thalia,” he growls, the possessiveness in his voice sending another shiver through my spent body. He doesn't pause, his thrusts becoming even harder, faster, driven towards his own release.
The moss cushions my back as his hands grip my hips, lifting me and turning me over effortlessly. For a moment, I’m weightless, suspended between earth and the hard lines of his body. Then he impales me again, that thick, demanding heat sliding deep in one ruthless thrust that punches the air from my lungs. My back arches off the soft ground, a choked cry escaping me.
"Galthan—!"
He leans over me, massive, blocking the moonlight. His eyes are dark pools of pure, possessive fire. Sweat beads on his brow, tracing the harsh planes of his face. Each powerful stroke drives me down into the yielding moss, the rhythm relentless, claiming.
"Look at me," he commands, his voice a gravelly rasp that vibrates through my core. One huge hand leaves my hip, slides up my side to cup my breast possessively, his thumb grinding hard over my nipple. "Whose are you, little goddess?"
The roughness in his touch, the raw need in his voice, shatters the last vestiges of restraint. My hands claw at his powerful forearms, needing an anchor.
"Yours!" The word bursts from me, ragged and desperate. "Only yours!"
He grunts, a sound of fierce satisfaction, slamming into me harder, the thick length of him stretching me perfectly, each retreat an agonizing loss before the next claiming surge. "Say it again." His fingers tighten on my breast, sending a shockwave of pleasure-pain straight to my throbbing core. "Tell me who you belong to."
His dominance, the sheer power in his movements, unlocks something primal. I meet his dark gaze, defiance and surrender warring. "I belong to you, Galthan! Toyou!" My voice lifts, echoing slightly in the quiet grove, a desperate vow. "Make me yours! Fill me! Please!"
"Yes." His breath is hot against my face. He watches every flicker of sensation on my features, the way my mouth falls open, the flutter of my lashes. "My good girl. My brave, impossible little goddess." His praise is rough, possessive, grounding. He shifts slightly, angling deeper, hitting that spot inside that makes stars explode behind my eyes. "So fucking tight. Taking me so well. Made for this... made for me."
His words, the hard snap of his hips driving me towards the edge again, the possessive grip on my body – it coils the tension tighter, unbearably tight. He feels it, sees it in the way my inner muscles clench, desperate. "Come for me," he growls, a harsh demand. "Now."
The command shatters me. Pleasure detonates, white-hot and all-consuming, ripping through my body. My cry is wild, uncontrolled, as I convulse around him, the pulsing waves locking him deep inside me. His own control snaps. His movements become frantic, desperate lunges, his breath ragged gasps against my neck. His whole body tightens, a cord pulled to breaking. With a deep, guttural roar that shakes the leaves above us, he buries himself to the hilt. I feel the hot, thick pulse of his release deep inside me, filling me with the undeniable, primal claim of his seed. His body shudders violently above mine, a massive weight collapsing momentarily before he catches himself, arms braced on either side of my head.
We stay like that, locked together, panting harshly into the cool night air, the sounds of our bodies mingling with the rustling leaves. Slowly, the tremors subside. He eases himself out carefully, a groan escaping him as he does. He gathers me against him, rolling onto his side, pulling me back flush against the hard wall of his chest. His arm wraps possessively around my waist, his large hand splayed possessively over my lower belly. His breath is warm against the nape of my neck, his body radiating heat against my cooling skin.
No words now. Just the shared rhythm of our breathing settling into calmness, the frantic energy spent. The scent of sex, earth, moss, and him surrounds me. The crickets resume their song. My eyelids grow impossibly heavy. His breathing deepens, slows, becoming steady against my back. The solid warmth of him, the heavy arm pinning me to him, the faint stickiness cooling between my thighs – it’s overwhelming and deeply comforting. This stolen, impossible peace. I let my hand cover his where it rests on my stomach, feeling the rough calluses of a warrior against my skin. My own eyelids flutter shut. The last thing I hear is his deep, even breathing against my ear before sleep drags me under, safe in the cage of his arms.
30
GALTHAN
The sound hits my consciousness like a war hammer to the skull—boots crashing through undergrowth, metal scraping against leather, voices barking commands with military precision. My eyes snap open to chaos erupting around our sanctuary.
"There! The traitor and his whore!"
Six warriors burst into the grove like a pack of hunting wolves, torchlight dancing off drawn blades. I recognize the lead figure—Krugg, one of Rytha's personal guards, his scarred face twisted with righteous fury.
Thalia jerks awake beneath me, her golden eyes wide with terror. I roll to my feet in one fluid motion, placing myself between her and the approaching threat. My muscles coil like loaded springs, every instinct screaming for blood.
"Stand down, Galthan!" Krugg's voice carries the authority of someone who thinks he's untouchable. "By order of the councils, you're under arrest for treason against the alliance."
"The only treason here is your interruption of a private moment." I bare my tusks, letting my voice drop to the growlthat's made enemy warriors piss themselves on battlefields. "Leave. Now."
Two guards move to flank me while others advance on Thalia. The sight of their hands reaching for her ignites something primal in my chest—a roar that starts in my bones and tears through my throat like molten metal.
I launch myself at the nearest warrior before he can draw his weapon fully. My fist connects with his windpipe, crushing cartilage with a wet crunch. He drops, clutching his throat and making sounds like a dying bird.
"Thalia, run!"
But she can't—another guard has already grabbed her arm, hauling her to her feet. Her scream pierces the night air.
"Galthan!"
The sound of my name on her lips, desperate and afraid, transforms me into something beyond reason. I pivot toward her captor, but Krugg's sword slices across my ribs, opening a line of fire along my side. The pain only fuels my rage.
