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Story: Sing Sweet Nightingale
“Thank you. Can I take this home with me to study better?”
I plan on being here for a while going over everything I can with Fynn, but I have a feeling this is going to take longer than an afternoon to go through.
“Of course. Just please don’t write in the margins. If you like, I have empty journals you can use for your notes.”
I accept his offer, and he crosses the library to a lower shelf and pulls out a small notebook, handing it to me. I was expecting a basic cardstock spiral notebook, but the one he hands me looks to be hand-bound in soft blue leather, the size of a standard-size novel. I try to give it back, insisting it’s too much, but he ignores my refusal and pulls another book from the shelf, settling himself in the seat across from me.
We spend the rest of the afternoon talking of all things non-human past and present, including those who live in Snowberry and what I can expect of a life here.
“Why is it called Snowberry anyway?” I ask the question that I’ve been curious about ever since Luna told me all those months ago.
“Because of the snowberry flowers that grow wild in the woods. They basically owned this area before it was cleared for the town. They had always referred to it as the Snowberry Fieldand decided the name should stay. Thus, they named the town Snowberry. If you look at the town crest, it has snowberries on it as well,” Fynn answers as if he were there when the decision was made, which he well could have been considering how long non-humans live.
His house does seem to be older in style and well settled into the lake and surrounding area's landscape.
“If you’re going to be staying, we’ll need to add you to the town census. I’ll need a little more information from you if that’s alright?”
It hadn’t crossed my mind that I’d become a member of their town. In choosing Hunter and our mate bond, I instantly became one of them, and they expect me to live here now.
The thought is overwhelming but also thrilling. Starting a new life was what I was searching for, was it not? To become myself again and leave behind theAlexandriapersona. I guess I just never expected to find it so quickly, so easily—well, sort of easily. Vincent posed a slight bump in our path, but thanks to my newfound ability, he won’t be a problem ever again.
“Of course, I would love to be added to your records.”
Chapter 39 - Hunter
My sweet mate writhes beneath me, her throaty moans erotic music to my ears. She loves it when I press my knot inside her, as do I.
Her pussy tightens around me as her orgasm crests and breaks. The breathy scream she emits sends waves of ecstasy through me. Now that she’s been practicing her siren abilities with Fynn, she unintentionally infuses it during sex. I don’t mind since the emotions she’s infusing tend to be ones I’m already feeling myself. Arousal, desire, pleasure, joy, love. It’s particularly strong when she does it during her orgasm, though.
My knot swells and locks into place as her pleasure forces mine out of me, my balls tightening and my shaft pulsing out my release inside her. I can’t get enough of my Nightingale mate.
I growl and press my face into the crook of her neck, Lottie’s back arching off our bed and pressing us closer, sliding me deeper as she wiggles.
“You know what that does to me, Lottie.”
She only giggles and does it again. My heart thumps with the love and affection and unhindered joy in the sound.
It’s been six months since the blood moon and our bonding, and I still marvel at my mate and the love we’ve found in each other.
Lottie seems to be happy here. After choosing to stay in Snowberry, I was worried she wouldn’t be. After a life lived in a large city like LA, a town like Snowberry is a big change. But it seems to be a change she likes.
I’ve already started work on her recording studio, a spacious shed in the backyard she helped design. Since I had no knowledge of what was needed for a recording studio, she was heavily involved in the decision-making process.
Lottie decided to leave the large studio and release herself from the responsibilities of Alexandria that her mother forced upon her. Something she said she was more than happy to do, the likes of which we aren’t done dealing with yet. Which is why we leave tomorrow for California. Needing to settle legalities in person.
I knew the trip was stressing out my mate, and I was more than happy to assuage her anxiety. If she keeps gyrating her hips, I’ll be doing it again very soon.
Laying cradled between her legs, I allow a bit of my weight to rest atop her. She likes feeling me close; I like feeling her close. But I keep the majority of my weight suspended on my elbows, my hips pressed flush to hers. However, my muscles shake with reignited passion, and I fear they may give out from beneath me. Rolling to my side, I pull Lottie with me, keeping her close so as not to hurt either of us, with my knot still keeping us together. She slings her leg over my hip and settles against my chest, sighing contently.
I let her do what she wishes, knowing my little Nightingale likes to tease. She doesn’t, though. Instead, her body relaxes, and I can feel the unease and tension melt away as I cradle her close in my arms.
We lay naked with my cock still securely inside her in our bed, sated and deliriously content.
Lottie’s hand rests next to her lips, pressing sleepy kisses to my chest, and I reach to twine her fingers with mine. The ring I gave her one month after our bonding on the second full moon we spent together, resting perfectly against her tanned skin. Lottie said she didn’t need a big traditional human wedding or even a party, but I insisted on a ring. We may not be married in the traditional sense, but we are in our eyes. Nothing can be more permanent than a mate bond.
The ring is simple, with delicate engravings of blooming snowberry flowers encircling the band and, at its center, a nightingale. She told me she didn’t want blingy diamonds and jewels but something simple and personal. So, I hand carved her ring from the wood of the trees in our forest. From one in the meadow where we first met. It’s color, a deep brown polished to a shine, the engravings filled with yellow gold making them stand out against the wood.
Lottie had cried when I gave it to her, and I vowed she would only ever cry tears of joy from that day forward. So far, I’ve accomplished that, but we have many more years ahead of us that I plan on filling with happy memories.
Table of Contents
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