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He glances over his shoulder, his strange animal brows knitting together in a frown. Reaching back, he grasps the snapped-off shaft in his shoulder.

“Eiden, no!”

He tugs.

It comes out with a wet plop. Fresh blood begins to stream.

“Don’t move,” he rumbles when I try to rise. “If you open the wound, I will have no choice but to tell Nox.”

His animal lips curve up in a smile.

A rush of emotions swamps me at his spark humor, making me want to laugh and cry all at once.

He drops the broken bolt to the floor, and before I can offer a token protest, he reaches back, gasps the second bolt, and rips that out as well. It joins the other on the floor.

I burst into tears. “Oh, I don’t know if that was a good idea. Now you are bleeding everywhere!”

He stoops down, and so gently, it makes me weep harder, gathers me into his arms. Sitting on the small cot, he settles me in his arms, tucking my cheek against his warm chest.

“What are we going to do?” I wail. “How will we ever get out?”

“No one will touch you.” He wraps the cloak around me, tucking it to my chin. “No one will dare come near. I went on quite the rampage. Word has spread. One look at me, and they run screaming in fear.”

I believe him.

His scent pools heat in my belly, mixing up with the dangers past and present and the glory of being alive. I rub my nose against his throat, finding the soft fur. A throb kicks off in my core.

Desire for him, for my mate.

“Don’t,” he rumbles in warning.

A caution I ignore as I push the cloak aside and move to straddle him. My cheeks are damp from my tears, and my body is awash with pain, but they are overwritten by a hunger for connection.

I lean back, making space between us, reaching down and closing my fingers around his impossibly thick girth. He is already growing hard as I stroke him.

“I’m weak for you,” he says, his snout bushing up the uninjured side of my throat, his tongue lapping over my jaw and then my lips.

“I need you, Eiden,” I say, breathless, weeping slick, desperate for the feel of him inside me. “I need you like this. To show your stag I love him well. To show him he is mine.”

His big hands grip my hips, lifting me, allowing me to put his cock where I need it.

I sink a small way down and gasp at the stretch.

He stills, holding me off him.

“Oh, don’t stop,” I whine, wriggling to get him to fill me all up.

He does, the delectable stretch offering the perfect bite of pleasure and pain amid this backdrop of desolation.

“More!” I steady myself with my hands on his shoulders, burying my nose against his throat again, sucking in his glorious scent.

“Gods, I won’t last,” he says, taking my hips in his big hands and fucking up into me from below, making nerves the length of my channel spark.

“I’m close, Eiden. Don’t stop.” I reach between us, my fingertips brushing over my clit, petting myself there, caught up in the frenzy as he makes me his. “I’m coming!”

My pussy squeezes over him, sweet climatic waves that have me moaning and panting.

He growls, his thrusts turning erratic before he seats himself deeply and stills. I feel him pulsing inside me, filling up the emptiness. Then he wraps me up in his strong arms, reminding me that, for now, I am safe.