49
For one more fraught, frozen moment, Rathgarr gazed down at Geva, his lips parted, his eyes blinking. Looking almost dazed, suddenly, as if she’d struck him straight across the face.
“You — wish for this,” he said, in a whisper. “For me. For my son.”
And Geva was still nodding, still clutching desperately at him, fighting to yank him closer. “Yes,” she gasped. “You, Rathgarr.You.”
But he was shaking his head, suddenly, and his huge hands were fumbling, catching hers above her head, pinning them to the solid table. “You cannot,” he gasped back, between hard, dragging breaths. “I have — spoken false to you. I have mistreated you. Mistrusted you. Falsely accused you. You deserve — better, than this. Than me.”
Geva was still gasping for air, and maybe she was even still nodding, holding his eyes. “But you’re still — mine,” she choked back, without thinking, without even hearing the words. “Mine, Rathgarr of Clan Ash-Kai. You gave me your scent, and your care, and your wedding-ring, and your best clothes and jewels. You took me before your clan again and again, and praised me, and drank fresh from me, as I drank from you.”
And why was she saying this, why did it sound almost like a vow, like a tale whispered in the dark, secret and sacred between them. “You already bought me, Rathgarr,” she breathed. “And you sold yourself to me in return. And now” — she yanked her hands out from his loosened grip, clutched them to his face — “if you’re still willing to give it, I want your good Ash-Kai seed. I want your son. And I am entitled to it, Rathgarr, because Iamyour mate, whether you admit it or not!”
And oh, the way he groaned. Long and guttural, his lips parted, his eyes fluttering. And when Geva yanked at him again, he didn’t resist this time. That swollen, leaking, shuddering heft settling just there, nocking into her, finding its place. While she kept nodding, kept clinging to him, feeling him opening her up, parting her around him, his gaze vehement and glittering on hers…
She shouted as he drove inside, sinking full and deep, impaling her whole in a single smooth stroke. And then holding himself there, stabbed all the way inside her, watching with those glinting, shifting eyes as she gasped and writhed upon him, around him, already lost.
“I ought to have known, poppet,” he said, and that was even a trace of a true smile, teasing on his mouth. “You always took far too much joy from this.”
Geva fought to scowl back at him, kicking at him with her feet, even as she arched and moaned. “You intolerable — ungrateful —ingrate,” she gasped, as he slowly drew out again, breath by breath. “You ought to be —”
But he’d plunged in again, breaking off the words, filling her with heat and strength and sharp, staggering pleasure. And then again and again and again, carving into her with furious flaring strokes, his hips snapping swift and powerful, his heavy bollocks slapping with every forceful thrust. As if he couldn’t stop, suddenly, as if he was being driven on by some desperate unknowable urge, as if the need to take her, to fill her, had swallowed all else. Just the same way Geva couldn’t stop clutching at him, arching for him, her fingernails scraping down his back, her pummelled invaded heat still seizing for him, milking at him. Needing his fresh seed, craving it so hard she felt faint, more, more,more—
“Please, Rathgarr,” she was gasping at him, begging him. “Please, grant me your seed. Pour me full. Empty yourself for me, give me everything you have, show me you trust me, Rathgarr,please.”
And oh, he was nodding, he was doing it, obeying it, because she was his mate, she’d earned this, and he washers. His strong legs shifting up to kneel beside hers on the table, his hands again shoving hers above her head, holding her firmly in place. Trapping her here beneath him, pinned on all sides, as he buried his face in her neck, his teeth seeking sharp against her skin…
And as he kept driving into her, slamming into her, his huge body heavy and hot and desperate. Fully focused on the goal, the prize, the conquest, here, within his grasp —
His teeth sank down, flashing out a fierce, fleeting pain as he groaned, deep into her very skin — and then, then, with one last furious drive inside, he exploded. Spraying out into her with shuddering, shattering force, so hard that Geva’s entire body writhed beneath it, shouting, fully consumed by him, claimed by him, by her own deadly, stunning mate,hers—
Her own relief roared through her in raw, reckless waves, convulsing down the full length of her mate buried so deep within her, drinking up more of him, more,more. Swallowing all he would give, all she could possibly draw from him, until his shudders gradually began to fade, wringing out his last, lingering pulses inside her.
And when the world slowly, shakily returned again, it was with the bizarre, unthinkable sensation of Rathgarr’s teeth drawing out from her neck. And then a soft, careful warmth caressing where his teeth had been, kissing and stroking with gentle lips and tongue. Almost as if he was — cleaning her, the way he liked her to do with him.
But then, his lips… trailed upwards. Up her neck, to her jaw, her cheek… and then, so gently, finding her mouth. His lips warm and soft, tasting of iron and salt, and an exquisite, familiar sweetness. And Geva moaned as she kissed him back, as she finally, finally learned how her mate tasted. So good, so impossibly, desperately decadent, laced with languid, luxurious hunger, with a longing she hadn’t known she’d felt, until this moment.
When they slowly drew apart again, he brushed one last kiss to her mouth, and then to her nose. And then he dropped his head to the wooden table beside hers, his body sagging heavier, closer, as he dragged in deep, shuddering breaths.
“Ach, poppet,” he finally whispered. “This was the wrong order, I ken. Ought to have kissed you, before seeking to spawn my son upon you.”
Oh. Their son. This. Because yes, yes, that was what this had been. It had been Rathgarr challenging her about the gold… and then her challenging him about the son.Grant me your seed. Give me everything you have.Show me you trust me.
And perhaps he’d followed her hesitation, because he’d jerked up over her, his wide eyes searching hers. “Youdidwish for this,” he demanded. “Ach? Even without the gold?”
But Geva was already nodding, and smiling at him, though her mouth slightly quivered. “I do want it,” she whispered back. “Even if youarestill the most enraging person I’ve ever met in my life.”
Rathgarr’s eyes had instantly softened, his lips curving up — but then he exhaled, and twitched a shake of his head. “I am — so sorry, poppet,” he said, quiet. “I have so deeply wronged you. Misjudged you.”
Geva wasn’t going to argue that, her throat swallowing hard, and Rathgarr huffed a laugh, without any humour in it. “You have been such a gift to me, Geva Okoro,” he continued, his voice low. “You have freely granted me so many gifts. Your laughter. Your hunger. Your tales. Your wisdom. Your kindness. Your goodness toward me, and toward all my kin. Your own trust, even when I did not deserve this. And I” — he drew in another shaky breath — “I spurned this. I forgot this. I forgot all you had given me, all you had shown me, in favour of my own grief, and my greed.”
Geva still wasn’t arguing this, just watching, listening, and he exhaled again, his eyes fluttering closed. “I longed to tell you of the hoard,” he croaked. “I very nearly did, just before we reached the mountain. But then, all this happened with Kesst, and with Grimarr, and you learnt how much I had not told you, even without this. And I” — his eyes opened again, held on hers — “I was a coward, poppet. I was… afraid.”
Geva felt her head tilting, considering that, as Rathgarr grimaced, shook his head. “I was so afraid you would wish for my hoard, more than you wished for me,” he whispered. “I was so afraid that beneath all your goodness, you would yet be just like my mother. When I was small, I thought her the cleverest, most stunning woman to ever walk the realm — and by the time of her death, I would have happily spat upon her corpse, so deeply did I loathe her and her greed. And I could not bear to think of you learning of this hoard, and then becoming just the same. I could not bear to think of losing the one woman who had brought me such joy, and such peace. Who not only made this curst visit home bearable, but… worthwhile. Fulfilling.Happy.”
Geva blinked at that, and Rathgarr’s hand came to her cheek, stroking gentle but firm. “You did, poppet,” he said. “You listened to me. You soothed me. You welcomed my touch and my care. You kept all my secrets. You never once mocked me or belittled me, even in my weakness and shame. You made friends of Kesst and his mate. You cared for all these orclings, and did this so freely, and so sweetly. You were so good, and so kind, that I” — he drew in another deep breath — “I fell to my fear, even amidst my own falsehoods. I was sure you had somehow learnt of the hoard after all, and that this was what had made you so good.Thiswas why you pleased me so much. I thought it had to have been, ach? For no woman does all this, and gives all this, forme.”
Geva’s increasing disbelief must have been clear on her face — surelysomeonehad cared for him, at some point? — because he huffed a brittle laugh, gave another shake of his head. “Not forme,” he said, harder this time. “For my face, mayhap, or my form, or my prick, or my gold. For how I could please them, or command them, or beg. For how I could give whattheywished from me. And in return, I sought to gain what I wished from them. There was no truth in this.Iwas never in this.”
