Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23383 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 117(@200wpm)___ 94(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23383 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 117(@200wpm)___ 94(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
I raise my eyebrows, taunting him. His fingers dig into the flesh of my chest but I bite my lip and stay steady.
Oran’s eyes roll back in his head, his chest filling as he looks toward the ceiling and roars.
Chapter
Four
Oran
“This feels.” I groan, the silk warmth of her flesh rippling through me from my fingers up to my shoulder then down into my belly. When she placed my hand on her chest, her breast, her heart…the sensation overwhelmed me.
When she taunted me with her dirty words, something cracked inside of me.
I lost all sense of place and time as I roared, all the pain and torture shaking loose inside of me. Seeping out through my throat and into the air as I bellowed.
Now, I hear her heart beating. I feel it inside of me as it thumps against my fingers and the inner shackles in which my own captors have kept me bound are breaking away. Feelings I only remember from my childhood before the taking crash back around me.
Warmth. Humor. Safety. Love.
Love.
“Feels like what?” She asks as I swallow back the gathering tightness in my throat, shaking my head, looking at her blue eyes, wondering who I will be after we leave this place. How will we ever be able to leave this place?
“Just, feels.”
She nods in some understanding and the tug in my chest turns into a drumbeat. She is bound to me. Her beating heart is attached to mine. The connection throbs deep in my primal core and the understanding of what a mate must be is a sprouting seed inside of me.
Seed.
That word takes on a lustful, potent new meaning. I will root myself inside of this female. It is already decided somewhere in our destiny and I must find a way to make her safe. Keep her safe and make her mine.
I remind myself to be gentle as my fingers curl on her chest, digging in, watching her tense as her mouth falls open. My grip is like iron, I know it hurts her but she shows no pain. She is a warrior. Like me.
“You are perfect, little human,” I say, never sure before what perfect meant, and now, realizing I will never not know again.
“You’re not bad yourself, big man.” She smiles, there’s a spark in her eyes, her tongue glancing along her lower lip making the ache in my cock grow stronger.
“I feel,” I say again, drawing a smile to her lips.
“Yes, you said that, you can feel more.” She pinches the bottom of her white cloth shirt, easing it up, pausing for me to lift my hand then strips it over her head.
Flesh so creamy and white it should not be real shakes me. Her softness assaults me, nearly too wonderful for my eyes as I point to the white strapped cloth covering her breasts.
“I do not like that on either,” I say, the rage fire inside of me heating but changing. It’s a mating fire now, I know this. “Take it off, mate.” That last word makes my head ache and there’s a heaviness between my legs as my balls fill and drop lower, confined by my leather trousers, which for the first time are an encumbrance and I wish I opted for a kilt today.
Her sweet, plump lips press together as she reaches around her back and I slip my fingers into the mess of her fire-colored hair, the silky strands unlike anything I have felt before.
“This better?” She pushes onto her knees, the small white cloth slipping down her arms and to the ground between us.
She is strong but soft and mine.
Mate. Mate. Mate. The word throbs in my balls as she leans in, both my hands assaulting her soft breasts, kneading them, her body obscenely small compared to my hands which cover her almost completely.
I could destroy her with a flick of my hand. The weight of my body could crush her.
But, she could do the same to me if she ever left. If anyone ever hurt her, my soul would turn black and I would rain down a sentence upon whomever hurt her unlike any pain I’ve inflicted in my life so far.
The waves of mating fever that drown me are blinding, but even in my haze, all I see is her. Her tits are perfect like the rest of her. Small and firm, with rose-colored nipples no larger than the pad of my pinky finger.
I toy with the hard peak, my other hand twisting in her hair, tugging her head to the side as she whispers my name and it’s the most exquisite sort of pain hearing her call to me in what sounds like a plea for more.
“I could hurt you.” I mutter as she scoots back on her knees as I follow. “I do not know softness or kindness.”