Page 134 of Given to the Black King

His body remains inside me. The swelling grows thicker, but not fully. Not until the venom.

Even now, he waits.

I touch his cheek.

“Now.”

His eyes search mine.

“Torgan. Now.”

He thrusts deep and holds.

His mouth seals to my neck.

Both fangs enter.

The pain is not clean or small.

It is two sharp points driving deep through skin and muscle. My body tries to recoil. His hand supports my head. His other arm locks beneath my hips, keeping me from tearing myself on him.

I cry out.

He does not move his jaw.

The fangs remain set.

Then the glands high in his jaw clench.

The first pulse of venom enters.

Heat pours from the bite in a violent line. Down my neck. Across my chest. Into my stomach and lower, where it contracts every muscle around his cock.

He roars against my throat.

The flare at his base expands fully.

The change is immediate and unmistakable. The muscular flare broadens inside me and seats at the entrance, locking our bodies together. I cannot lift away. He cannot withdraw.

Fear flashes through me.

The bond is not open yet, but he sees it in my face.

His hand leaves my hip and covers mine.

Still.

The word is not spoken. He cannot speak with his fangs embedded. His body tells me instead. He braces all his weight above and around me. He stops thrusting. He holds the exact angle so neither fang tears the wound.

A second venom pulse enters.

Heat becomes pleasure so intense it feels like pain changing its mind.

My body clamps around him.

The full swell pulses inside me.

His cock is trapped in every contraction. The pressure drags a broken sound from his throat, but he does not move.