Page 24 of The Naga Wanderer’s Wounded Mate

Chapter 18

Jasmine

I woke with a deep sigh and a feeling of well-being I couldn’t recall ever feeling before. Certainly not over the past few days, when my body had been put through the wringer in the worst sort of ways. I stretched, my eyes refusing to open in case this was all a dream. I didn’t want the feeling to go away.

The warm scent that filled my lungs was male, a little salty, but with a hint of tantalizing sweetness. I knew it instantly and rolled to burrow closer with a deep, satisfied inhale. There wasn’t even the slightest twinge in my leg, heck, even the dull ache I’d had in my knee from an old fall was gone. That healer—he’d done top-notch work.

“You’re awake, Jasmine. I know you are,” Ekkire drawled from somewhere right above my head. Though I didn’t really want to rise further into wakefulness, my mind answered the lure of his deep, slightly grumpy voice. He sounded like he was reprimanding me for not looking at him right away, and it made my belly curl with warmth. That was so him, to sound inconvenienced when he was really concerned.

“Five more minutes,” I said, which I probably hadn’t said in at least ten years. Not since I was a teenager who hated school and being trapped indoors. I stretched again, feeling all the places where we touched: his arm beneath my head, his hand on my waist, and the coils of his tail tangled with my legs. There were furs over us, and more of them cushioning our bodies. Warmth filled the space, much of it radiating from him.

I gave in and opened my eyes, and discovered we were inside a small, primitive tent. The space was lit by the golden glow of his sigils. His eyes were chips of bright emerald that began to warm as he met my gaze. “I was worried about you,” he admitted huskily. “I’m not used to that… Ish said you had an infection that started with a cut on your ankle. Any longer without healing, and it could have damaged the healing bone. Once we get to Haven, I’m going to insist on learning how to use a healing device before we go anywhere.”

Oh, wow, I was not awake enough to be told all that. Ekkire rarely talked more than absolutely necessary, and I was a little overwhelmed by the information. Infection? Yeah, I’d realized I’d gotten one, but I hadn’t even realized it was from cuts on my leg, not the break itself. It sounded… bad. Closer than I wanted to cut it. Much closer.

Then his last words began to sink in, and I realized how, well, for lack of a better word, definitive they sounded—like he was already planning for a future that had me in it. Yet at the same time, uncertainty made me think I could just be misinterpreting it. He was so independent; he’d made it clear he had never thought he’d share his life with another, that his lifestyle was unsuited for it. This brush with death… and I knew it was one; an untreated infection could have easily killed me or left me crippled for life. He was only going to think I was fragile all over again, and that I couldn’t be risked out in the wilds of Serant.

“Well, it’s lucky we ran into them, I guess. Where are we?” It was clearly a tent, and I was pretty sure Ekkire hadn’t carried one of those earlier. The furs were his; I recognized the one tucked beneath my chin. It had a very distinct streak of pale lavender along the edge. “And where are Dove and the other sleara?” I wasn’t sure if he had a name yet, but I was certain he was a permanent fixture.

“With Ish,” Ekkire murmured. “It took some convincing, but once he made a nest with Dove’s stick collection, she was appeased. I think Hunter’s protectiveness helped her settle.” So he’d named the blue guy, had he? I liked that; it implied he’d bonded with the sleara the way I had with Dove. He probably would deny it, but I could hear the affection for them in his voice. Damn it, I liked that so much.

“Hunter, is it?” I teased. Then my stomach rumbled, and I wondered how long it had been since I’d last eaten. There was darkness outside our small tent; I could see a sliver of starry sky through a crack in the tent flap. The rustling of the wind through the trees told me we were still in the forest that covered this mountainside. Was this the clearing where we’d encountered those Sun Fang warriors?

“Yes, that was an accident, but it fits,” Ekkire chuckled, and I cherished that rusty sound of amusement. “After you were healed, you needed rest. I carried you as we traveled. Darkness fell as we reached a treacherous pass that needs daylight to traverse after the rock slide. So we’ve made camp.” That meant we were still with the Sun Fang party, still traveling to the outpost to render assistance. I was relieved. Ekkire hadn’t turned back to rush me to Haven when he’d discovered the extent of my injuries. Was that a vote of confidence or just pragmatism?

Ekkire slid a little closer, his coils shifting and pressing against my legs. I relished the feelings he evoked with that touch, the settling of weight across my limbs. It didn’t hurt, not even a little, proving that my leg was healed. Not just my leg—the extensive bruising had also vanished without a trace. This guy, Ish, he’d done an absolutely marvelous job.

“I have come to realize I would not have liked to continue this journey without you, Jasmine,” Ekkire whispered. The warmth of his breath ghosted over my face. I tilted my chin a tad up, and now I could almost kiss the edge of his. The sharp ivory horn that jutted from his jaw gleamed in the glow of his golden sigils. A very dangerous, sharp reminder that he was not human, but a naga. He was very different from the men I’d known and traveled with back on Earth. That was a good thing.

“Hmm, me neither. This has been fun.” His eyebrow quirked in question, his stare turning baffled. I knew what he was thinking: fun? I’d been bruised to hell and back, broken my leg, nearly died of an infection, and survived several attempts on my life. How was that fun? But the rest of it was. I felt more alive than ever, and with Ekkire, I never felt like I had to prove myself anymore.

“I have some food here. You must be starving,” Ekkire said, changing the subject. He shifted and rose on one elbow to grab something from nearby: a bowl of still slightly warm stew. A wooden spoon stuck out of the fragrant food, nearly straight up with how stuffed it was with meat. I sat up myself, took the bowl, and then had a tentative nibble. Yup, it was all meat in there, enhanced by spices and salt, but definitely the kind of sustenance a carnivore would prefer. I doubted this had been made by Ekkire himself, but it was calories—lots of them—which I’d need after being healed.

I sat curled in the loops of his tail, surrounded, warm, sheltered. It was very cozy, and even though we were both silent as I ate, I enjoyed the moment. Once my spoon scraped the bottom of the bowl, he took it from me and carefully set it aside. “I can leave the tent so you can sleep undisturbed,” he said with a serious expression. His body half-turned to leave, but his tail tightening around my waist said the opposite.

My hand touched the warm scales, and I noticed the arrow wounds had healed. There was not even a trace of the damage they’d done earlier in the day. That healer really was good, to have done such extensive work on two patients all in one day. That was good; I didn’t want Ekkire to be in pain for his selfless act. I also didn’t want him to leave, like he so politely offered, and it was obvious he didn’t actually want to leave either.

My hand pressed against his tail, soaking in the strength of the muscles beneath my fingers. “No, stay. I really want you to stay.” He turned toward me, his mouth tight and grim, his brow furrowed. With anyone else I might have thought he was mad, but Ekkire… I was pretty sure this expression meant something else, and it was intense. Reaching with both hands, I cupped the sharp lines of his jaw, my thumbs brushing along the smaller scales that covered his cheeks. Then I rose to my knees and kissed him.

He groaned, his body shuddering, reacting instinctively as he hauled me close. Then he slicked his tongue against my lips, proving he remembered what we’d done before. A fast student, his kiss already drove me crazy. The soft brush, then a firmer, possessive claim. The stroke of his tongue against mine, a tangle of warmth and wetness. He caught a rhythm that made me ache, mimicking the act of sex. The split tip of his tongue dragged twin points across the roof of my mouth.

I clung to his shoulders, dug my hands into his silky hair, and scraped my nails over his scalp, a groan vibrating between us that arrowed straight to my clit. It was so fucking sexy—that sound—and so was the way his coils began to tighten around me, coiling, twining, the two of us locked tightly together in his embrace.

“I want you, Jasmine,” he groaned against my lips. “I have never wanted like this before…” The heartfelt confession made me feel empowered, a strength settling deep in my belly. Ekkire wasn’t taking; he wasn’t even asking, as if he didn’t know what to ask for. So I took charge. I pressed a hand against his shoulder, urging him to lie back, which he did with heavy eyes and a flick of his tongue. His lips were wet from our kiss, his eyes glowing. “Like this?” he asked huskily.

I nodded, still on my knees next to him and trapped in several loops of his tail. With a small push, they loosened, and then I could pull my shirt over my head. The sports bra followed with the hiss of the front zipper, and his eyes locked onto my breasts as they were freed. Heat so thick blazed from his eyes, I could almost feel the touch of his gaze. “Jasmine…” he groaned, his body undulating on the fur, but his back staying firmly planted against them, though it clearly took effort to stay there.

“Stay still, let me strip,” I told him, smiling as I lifted my hips enough to shimmy out of my leggings. The leather outer pair was already gone, so that was all it took to strip me down to my panties. He stared at me like I was the most divine thing he’d ever seen, and he didn’t even need words to express it. I felt it—felt how much he desired me, admired me.

Lowering my eyes, I tracked the way tension coiled through his body. The way he clenched his jaw, the muscles in his neck corded, his abs tight, and his hands digging into the furs. He wasn’t wearing his belt, so I had an unrestricted view of his cock as it began to slide from his slit, jutting proudly toward the sky. Bright emerald, with a glow of gold in veins crawling up the shaft. The split tip writhed, both ends widening, then twining back together.

I clenched, an ache lancing through my core when I couldn’t help but imagine what that would feel like inside me. Good, I was sure of it, even if he was really big. According to Vera’s very comprehensive instructions, that was less of a problem than it looked, and sure enough, when I touched the tip with a finger, he felt slick. Oily. Another tidbit reminded me not to taste him, because that supposedly would make me go into some kind of heat. It was tempting, though—very tempting—because he smelled mouthwateringly good.

“Ah, stars, Jasmine… Should I not… What do I…” He could not even finish a sentence, his body twitching, that thick cock kicking at the brush of my finger. That made me bold. Surprising myself, I rose just enough to slip my panties off, and then I flung my leg over his hip. It was a little messy as I tried to find the right spot to sit, to touch, but that didn’t matter. Everything I did seemed to excite him, his coils twisting and curling but not quite reaching to grab me, which clearly took momentous effort on his part. Good guy that he was, he was trying his hardest to let me lead, to let me make the choices. How did he know that was exactly what I needed?

Slick with my own desire, I tested my folds with a finger and found them as wet as his bifurcated tip had been. “I need to take this very slow,” I said to him, certain his big size was going to stretch me to the limit. He nodded so wildly his horn nicked his throat, but he seemed completely unaware of the small trickle of blood. I rose to my knees, shifted closer, and circled my fingers around his cock. It was hot to the touch, throbbing in my fist, and his hiss was loud.

“Slow,” I repeated, rubbing myself against the intriguing tips. That was too much for him; his hands finally came off the furs to grab me. Only as far as my hips, the rough texture of his scale-covered hands pressing against my sensitive skin.

“Sorry,” he muttered, his eyes wild and helpless, like he hadn’t meant to do that. His cock was also misbehaving, not letting me rub myself against him, but twisting in my grip. The tips were like a pair of strong, agile fingers. They sought out my heat, pressed against my folds, and my body shook as they stroked my clit. Fuck, that felt good! A rush of wetness dripped from my core in response, and the tips twisted back, as if they sensed it.

The first push inside me felt perfect, those tips twisting, narrower than a normal cock. It was going fast, not slow, but it felt perfect anyway. Lined up, nothing was stopping him from pushing in, but he fought to keep his hips planted on the furs for agonizing seconds. “Jasmine, you are so warm, so soft,” he raved. I widened my stance, knees shifting around his hips on the furs, and he sank in a bit more. No pain, no stretch, just more slick heat as he sank in, pulling himself inside me with those writhing tips.

It felt weird, then it felt good—stroking nerves that set my blood on fire. He did it again when I twitched around him, groaning in pleasure, and then again. His strange cock smoothed the way into my passage with each coiling, writhing move. I lost my concentration then, my legs trembling from the effort of holding myself up above him. He had me, though, his hands growing firm on my hips, holding me in place. His hips moved too, pressing up, then pulling back out instinctively.

Each shove of those hips, each thrust, brought him deeper inside me. Push—an inch—pull, then push again, and another inch would slip in. I did not think I could take all of him; he was too long, but then he changed the angle. With a rush, more filled me, too much. A burn from the stretch shivered through me, but it was quickly replaced with a warm rush of heat.

I glanced down, certain that meant he’d filled me with all he had, and was shocked to discover that still a fistful more remained. I shook my head, but now he was the one in charge, and he nodded. “Yes,” he hissed, “you will. You can. I know it.” He was right, but I shook as he proved it to me. Pleasure bordering on pain with his effort to thrust deeper. Then, suddenly, my clit pressed against his pelvis, and pleasure so bright it ached blinded me. The orgasm was quick as lightning, and my core clenched around him so tightly he briefly couldn’t move. Seconds ticked by, and as I shook through the orgasm, so did he. A wet rush of heat, more wetness. His expression was so fierce, his fangs dug furrows into his bottom lip.

When he began moving again, it was slowly but with a rush of wetness and the sweet, salty scent of his seed. I knew he’d come with me, but he wasn’t done. I nearly was, too tired to hold myself up even with the aid of his hands. He dragged me against his chest, hugged me tight. “Ekkire,” I said, not sure what I was even asking, just that I needed him. He kissed me, and then he hushed me when I opened my mouth to say more.

“Not yet. Let me seed you, Jasmine. Let me seed you, please?” he begged, his gruffness gone, his expression tight and desperate. Pleasure skated up my spine, made my core clench around him. Yes, yes, I wanted it too. I wanted all the crazy pleasure he had to offer, a counterpoint to the pain of the past, proof I could do this right. Create something beautiful with another being.

He pinned me to him, my breasts squashed against his chest but not painfully, scales rubbing with delicious friction against my nipples. His tail coiled, the tip rubbing down my spine, then curved around my ass, and the pressure as he pushed me further onto him was intense. I shattered again, but this time he fucked me through it, his thrusts rough but precise. He kept going until a third crest rose, sinking deep as I came that time and, like he’d promised, seeding me until I felt full. Pressure mounted, the last orgasm bright in its intensity. His seed rushed out of him, more than the first time, and gushed down his shaft and out of me. There was a lot—so much it felt crazy—but Vera had warned me about that too.

“Oh,” I sighed, too weak to do anything but observe as the pleasure slowly began to fade. We stuck together in the mess, his cock still deep inside me, the writhing tip gently stroking me somewhere no one but him could ever reach. “That was lovely,” I murmured, and then I giggled at how silly that sounded, but it was true. That was amazing.

“It was,” Ekkire agreed quietly. “Very lovely, like you.” Then he added, “Thaaank yhous,” in UAR common, proving he still remembered those words. I melted a little more for him. Wow, just wow. I really, really liked this guy, so much. When he cleaned us with a cloth not much later, then tucked me into his coils in the furs with tender hands, I knew I didn’t want to leave his side. Fate, it existed.