Every instinct in my blood screams at me to slide my hand down her spine, grip the back of her thighs, and force myself flush against the cradle of her hips until this agonizing need is satisfied. The scent of her is rich, dark, and spiking with something sweeter that was there when I pinned her to the mapping stone.
My claw spans the entire width of her narrow waist. I grip her hips, my fingers sheathing to dig into the soft curve of her body.
I drag my open mouth along her collarbone, my sharp teeth scraping lightly against her delicate skin.
A soft, frantic whimper escapes her lips.
The sound hits my mind like the exact frequency I have been desperate to hear.
The pain in my arm suddenly peaks. A flare of heat that locks every muscle in my body before abruptly shattering.
I am lying fully over her. My face is buried in her neck, my hand gripping her hip, my purr vibrating into her bones. Her chest heaves with rapid, uneven breaths beneath me.
“Mine,” the feral instinct whispers into the silent mindspace.
I cannot take her now. Not when I am not yet fully transformed, and she is still recovering from the brutal planetary adaptation fire. I will not hurt her.
I force myself to loosen my crushing grip on her hips. It is the hardest physical act I have ever performed. I slowly push myself up, lifting my immense weight off her soft body.
She stares up at me, her lips are parted, her dark-brown eyes wide and incredibly deep.
I reach down and gently brush a stray curl away from her cheek with the back of one long, starlight-fractured digit.
The heat of the starfield skin pulses warmly against her face. I am not hiding it anymore.
She was right. Concealment is not strength.
I grab the knotted end of the rough hide strips resting on the ledge and drop the dark leather onto the floor. My arms are a brilliant, terrifying mosaic of bronze, deep black, and pulsing starlight.
The heat surging through them is a warning. The transformation is already spreading toward my chest. I have only sols before it paralyzes my frame. If Lucek is near when I fall, she will be unprotected. I must secure the perimeter now, while I still can.
I slide off the ledge, my feet hitting the stone floor without a sound.
I reach down, my hands framing her face. I press my forehead firmly against hers.
“I must secure the clan. Stay,” I project the commanding thought directly into the quiet mindspace between us.
I turn and walk deliberately out of the alcove alone, leaving her behind on the furs, my arms bare.
I step through the eastern tunnel and emerge into the bright light of the main cavern.
The cavern instantly goes dead still.
Warriors halt mid-stride. The drop of a spear hitting the stone floor echoes loudly. Some of the females gasp, murmuring among themselves.
“Oh my God,” Pah-m whispers loudly from the water basins.
I stand tall in the center of the cavern, the starfield skin pulsing with brilliant pinpoints of light.
“I am the dra-dam. Still,” I project cleanly across the wide, silent mindspace, my dark thought rolling like a rockslide off the stone walls.
The collective clan response crashes against my mental shields. It is an impenetrable wall of fierce loyalty suddenly roaring up from my warriors. The wave of sheer respect is powerful. Even Zan projects a slow, grudging wave of reluctant acceptance.
I do not care about Zan’s acceptance. I only care about the female who demanded the truth.
I turn my head, lifting my gaze toward the high ledge of my alcove.
Eh-ree-kah is there, peering down at me over the lip of the stone. Her dark curls hang forward. Her eyes are wide, her lips parted, her gaze locked on the raw, pulsing starlight fracturing my bare arms.
