She laughs until tears slip from the corners of her eyes. I endure it because I am the eldest son of Layn, heir to the crown, trained in negotiation, combat, and torture. When she finally quiets, her cheek rests against the nest. Her hand tangles in the fabric. "It smells like you," she murmurs.
"Yes." My heart does something stupid. I tuck the cloth closer around her and settle in beside her. "Good."
She settles again, unconvinced, already drifting. I do not move. Would not move if the building caught fire. I would carry her out still wrapped around me and deal with evacuation protocols afterward.
The ring pulses.
Once.
Then again.
Of course.
I dismiss Zymlor. Bryklor. Possibly, Father, if the bond registered through channels I did not think could reach Earth. The claim will have consequences. Family. Formal notice. Ring rights. Ceremony. Titles. The whole beautiful, inconvenient machinery of Layn recognizing my princess.
Later. All of it later.
Beatrice sleeps with my shirt under her cheek, my scent around her, and my mark on her throat. Her breathing steadies. Her aura glows softer now, gold banked low and warm.
I should think of Layn. The coffee strains. The children. Bryklor's shipments. Zymlor's cure research. The story that could expose more than she knows.
I think of none of it.
I think of the nine seconds after she left my office the first time and how proud I was to have survived them. Now she is in my bed, in my arms, marked by my teeth, and I have no interest in surviving her at all.
I lower my mouth to her hair and breathe her in until I no longer think at all.
Chapter 5
Bee
Three days later, I surface in Skylor's bed with one of his hands spread across my stomach, his mouth against the back of my neck, and the throb between my legs. I might need more of whatever magic potion is on his tongue. Okay, maybe I just need his mouth on my vaj. Not need.Crave. The nest helps. It’s ridiculous and perfect, made of his shirts, blankets, textured Layn cloth. Even my blouse. A blouse he insisted on using, even though I’m going to need it for the walk of shame. His brows furrowed at that. “Why would you be ashamed? We’re mates.”
I refuse to admit that I’m embarrassed by how quickly I accepted being tucked into the center of it. Embarrassed by the noises I made, the places his mouth has been. Not that I’m complaining. No. No complaints at all as I bury my face in my nest. My mate is the sweetest alpha in the world.
Skylor's breath moves over my neck, slow and warm. His mark throbs beneath the edge of my jaw, not painful exactly, but aware. The skin feels tender, swollen, alive in a way skin should not be alive. His palm rubs the curve of my ass and I snuggle back into its cup. And then he slaps it.
I jerk away. “What the hell, Skylor? What was that for?”
“For saying you were ashamed.” He shrugs. “Plus, I wanted to watch it bounce.”
I glare at him.My mate is an ass. Worse, he is an alpha ass.
He grins at my outrage. “Don’t worry,” he says, pushing me face down into the pillow. “I’m going to kiss it better.” His tongue licks the curve, tracing what is probably the outline of his freaking fingers. “Are you sore?”
I’m not speaking to him. My ass and my pride still sting. He wraps his arms around my thighs, raises me up, and licks me from my soft curls to the curve of my ass. His tongue detours with soft strokes on my butt cheeks before making the journey again. He continues his ministrations until the only throb I have is from want. All aches vanish as he takes me again. Entangling our fingers as he ruts me from behind. I’m pretty sure, he takes advantage of the morning’s light to rise up and watch my ass bounce as he thrusts harder and faster. His knees lining with mine despite our height difference. The knot slides in easier now. I think I could have taken it without the tongue warm-up. But the hell if I’ll tell him that.Ever.
The knot loosens and his arm tightens when I shift. "Do not leave yet," he whispers.
The voice alone should be regulated. Low, rough, still orgasm-worn, threaded with that Alpha authority that makes my spine straighten and my body soften. "I have to work."
"I happen to know you have a very understanding boss.”
I elbow him lightly. He catches my wrist, brings my palm to his mouth, and kisses the center of it with a tenderness that makes joking suddenly dangerous. My chest tightens. Tender Skylor is a terrifying Skylor.
The ring on his bedside table glows before he can stop the connection and ignore it like he’s done all weekend. A blue projection flickers above his hand, and a male voice says, "I win."
Skylor's entire body goes rigid and he covers me faster than I can blink. I twist enough to find the hologram hovering near the bed. Another Layn male, leaner than Skylor, with sharper cheekbones, bright eyes, and ears rotating with shameless delight. He takes in the nest, the bare skin, the marks on both of us, and grins.
