"I can't—" Her voice stutters. "It's too much—I can't tell where I end and you—"
"Don't." I frame her face with my hands, force her to meet my eyes. "Don't try to separate it. Just feel."
I move faster. Harder. And shefeelsit—feels my pleasure layered over hers, feels the pressure building at the base of my spine as clearly as her own approaching orgasm. Her pussy clenches around me and I feelthattoo, feel myself gripping myself, and my vision whites out at the edges.
"Knox—" She's sobbing now, overwhelmed, her body arching off the bed. "I'm going to—I can feel you're going to—"
"Together." I bury myself to the hilt and grind against her clit. "Come with me. NOW."
She comes hard.
And I feel it from the inside—her orgasm crashing through her body, her pussy clamping down on me, pleasure exploding through every nerve. It triggers my own release, which amplifies hers, which amplifies mine—an infinite feedback loop of sensation that tears through us both like wildfire.
I don't know which scream is hers and which is mine. Don't know where my body ends and hers begins. We're one creature, one heartbeat, one endless wave of pleasure that goes on and on until neither of us can breathe.
We collapse together, both of us trembling and gasping, the bond pulsing between us like a second heartbeat.
Sarah traces the bite mark in the mirror.
I stand behind her, arms wrapped around her waist, watching her reflection study the scar at her throat. My teeth, permanent as a tattoo, declaring to the world what she is to me.
"It's beautiful." She tips her head, examining the mark from different angles. "I thought it would hurt more."
"Orc bites heal fast on claimed mates." I press my lips to her shoulder, right beside the mark. "The pain fades but the bond doesn't."
She turns in my arms and kisses me—soft and slow. This is the rest of our lives stretching out before us.
"My queen," I murmur against her hair.
She pulls back to look at me, her eyes shining. "What?"
"That's what you are." I cup her face in my hands, stroking my thumbs across her cheekbones. "The queen of the Feral Sons. My mate. My claimed."
For the first time since I met her, Sarah smiles without shadows. No fear lurking at the edges. No ghosts of the past dimming the brightness.
"I like the sound of that."
Whatever comes next—my father's summons, the threats we haven't even imagined yet—we face it together. My past. Hers. All of it.
Let them come.
They'll learn what it means to threaten an orc's claimed mate.
