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He snuffs at my hair, at my nape, behind my ear. He licks the sweat off my shoulder. “You smell of me already. I’m going to fill your cunt until it runs down your legs, and then I’m going to lick it off you.” Then his teeth close on the back of my neck, and he doesn’t bite. He holds me there by the scruff with his fangs denting my skin and keeps fucking me.

I’ve held plenty of wolves down by the scruff. Nobody’s ever done it to me. I go limp under him and let him, and it’s the best thing I’ve ever felt.

I try to tell him so. What comes out is fuck and more and his name, and after a while not even that. He rumbles back at me in his own language with his mouth full of my neck, riesa and a lot I don’t know, and then one word I do. “Mine.”

I shove my ass back at him as hard as I can, and he snarls and gives it to me harder. “Louder. There’s no one to hear you but me.” I’ve got a hand twisted in the furs and my face mashed into them, and I’m drooling on a pelt he probably cured himself.

I come screaming, and I don’t care what on this mountain hears it. My cunt clamps down on him over and over. He has to shove to get through it, and he does.

He lets go of my neck. “Every wolf you meet will smell me in you.” His head goes back, and he bellows. It’s the same call I heard through the trees, rough and huge, only now it’s right over me and I can feel it through his cock.

There it is.

He slams in as deep as he’ll go and stays there, and he comes in me. It’s hot, and there’s so much of it. I feel every pulse. It fills me up and squeezes out around him and runs down the insides of my thighs, and he’s still coming, grinding into me with little shoves to work it deeper. “Keep it in. All of it.”

He doesn’t go soft. He stays where he is, panting over my back, and then he pulls out slowly and I feel it all start to run out of me. He makes an unhappy noise about that.

He sits back on his heels and spreads me open with his thumbs, and I know he’s looking, because I can feel the air on me, and then his breath.

“You’re leaking.”

“Whose fault is that?”

He scoops it up off my thigh with the blunt fingers and pushes it back into me, all the way in to the knuckles, growling low while he does it.

Well.

He did say he wouldn’t waste it. Then he bends and licks me, one long slow stripe from my clit to my ass, both of us mixed together on his tongue. My legs shake so hard that the heap of furs slides.

“Again,” I tell the pelt. “Put it back in. I’m not finished.”

“Neither am I, riesa. I’m not stopping until you’re too full to leak.” He mounts me again. I’m so slick with him now that he slides in to the hilt, and it squelches, and neither of us cares. He’s slower this time, but it’s deeper, long hard strokes that shove me up the furs until his arm drags me back down onto him. His hand comes around under me. The thumb finds my clit without being told and rubs the small circles I taught him, with the claw turned out. He’s gone completely wild, and he still turned the claw out.

He licks my right shoulder, up where it meets my neck, and then he licks it again. His teeth scrape there. Here it comes. He stops moving, buried in me, shaking all over.

“Kestria.” It’s hardly a word. “The bite. Once it’s done—”

“It can’t be undone. Fuck. Do it, Rauk. Bite me.”

He bites.

Shit, it hurts. I knew it would, and I still yell. The fangs go in deep at the top of my shoulder, and he holds on, and then he starts fucking me again with his teeth in me, short hard thrusts. The pain and his thumb and his cock all run together, and I come so hard I can’t see. He groans into my shoulder and spills in me again, as much as before, while he’s sucking my blood out of the holes. I can feel both. I can feel him swallow.

He lets go slowly. He licks the bite over and over until the sting dulls, making a sound I’ve never heard from him, low and cracked.

Then he eases out of me and turns me over with both hands, so gently that I laugh at him. My blood’s on his mouth and in his chin fur, and both his ears are pointed straight at me.

“My turn. Sit us up.”

He gathers me up and sits back with me in his lap. I reach down and put him back inside me, because he’s still hard and that’s where he belongs. We’re a mess. His spill’s all down my thighs and his, there’s blood running down my arm, and the binding on his thigh has gone red again.

Later.

My face is level with his shoulder. The knife’s on the floor by my foot wraps, and I’m not bending for anything today.

“Hand me my talon.”

He reaches down without letting go of me and comes up with the case, and I slide the little knife out of it.