Page 27

Story: The Longing

“I don’t care. Show me how to put my mouth on you,” he demands. “There were no diagrams in the text.”

He towers over me and my stomach squirms.

“Do you always need diagrams?”

Fenrother puts his face close to mine with a guttural growl. “Show me.”

Annoyance at this big, brash, handsome idiot swells in my chest.

“You want to be kissed?”

“Yes.” His brow furrows.

“Are you sure you’re not going to think I’m trying to attack you?”

“Yes!” I can see the uncertainty flit through his eyes, and the annoyance becomes anger.

“Fine!” I put my hands either side of his face and pull him into me, my lips landing on his.

Fenrother rears away, but I have hold of him, and the resistance lasts all of a nano-second as I keep my lips on his.

His hand pushes through my hair as he closes his eyes, and I continue with the kiss, slowly parting my mouth, and to my surprise this time, his tongue sweeps my lips, soft, warm, almost like he was made for me with his pillowy lips and the way his eyelashes brush his skin.

Skin which feels so smooth to the touch, not scaly or bumpy.

Fenrother’s tongue gets bolder, and his kiss deepens, one arm around my waist, one in my hair. He takes over, dominating me as he kisses the breath out of my body.

Until I am released.

“I don’t need diagrams,” Fenrother says, his voice low and sinful. “I need a mate.”

Actions have consequences…Alice.

ALICE

My entire body is trembling, and for some reason, it would rather Fenrother still had hold of me.

Because that isn’t an absolutely terrible idea.

The closer I get to this monster, the more likely it is we’ll…and I can’t think about that. Not because Fenrother isn’t easy on the eye but because of what might be the end result.

I can’t think straight, not after that kiss. Not after the way he finally opened his eyes, staring deep into mine, his claws pricking at my scalp, his sinuous body pressed against me.

He made mefeelthings. Things I should not be feeling here in the Yeavering. Things I never thought I’d feel for anyone because my life was a total and utter disaster.

Things which were not made for this world, not if I want to survive it. Or not survive it and get very quickly to the end point.

So, which is it?

Fenrother stands in front of me, arms by his sides, his chest moving up and down as he makes a poor attempt at pretending the kiss didn’t affect him.

Given the different colouration of scales on his shoulders and neck, I’d say it did. I’m pretty sure I’m red from toe to hairline after such a scorcher.

Fenrother, as it turns out, is a great kisser. A natural. I didn’t even have any dead fish vibes like my very early kisses with human men.

What isn’t clear is what he intends doing next. Which is, I suspect, because he doesn’t know. The way the book has been dumped, pages down on the table, suggests he hasn’t finished it.

My Wyrm remains entirely in the dark about next steps.