Page 26

ARATON

A mixture of the thassir's blood and my own is still hot on my skin, its death throes echoing in my mind as I hold Ronnie against me.

My body thrums with leftover adrenaline, every sense heightened to painful clarity.

I can hear her heartbeat, smell the intoxicating mix of fear and arousal coming off her in waves, feel the slight tremor in her limbs where she presses against me.

When I saw that beast lunging for her, something primal shattered inside me. Not just protective instinct, but possessive rage—a visceral understanding that this woman is mine to protect, mine to pleasure, mine to keep safe.

"Eat you, of course," I growl against the shell of her ear, gratified by the full-body shiver that runs through her. My wings curl tighter around us, blocking out the rest of the world until there's nothing but her and me and the silver-dappled darkness.

I don't give her time to respond. In one fluid motion, I drop to my knees before her, my hands sliding down to grip her thighs. She gasps, fingers instinctively tangling in my hair as I push up her dress with indecent haste, bunching the fabric around her waist.

"Araton—" Her voice breaks on my name, uncertain but heavy with want.

"Did you think I wouldn't notice?" I murmur against her inner thigh, letting my breath warm her skin. "How much you enjoyed being chased? Being hunted ?"

My fingers hook into the thin fabric of her underclothes, and with one sharp motion, I tear them away. The sound of ripping cloth is obscene in the quiet forest. Her sharp intake of breath makes me smile against her skin.

"Fuck," I breathe, looking up at her from between her thighs. In the moonlight filtering through my feathers, I can see how wet she is, slick and ready. "Look at you. Absolutely soaked."

Her chest rises and falls rapidly, face flushed with equal parts embarrassment and desire. She tries to close her legs, but my shoulders keep them parted.

"If I'd known being prey got you this wet," I tell her, voice rough with desire, "I would've hunted you a long time ago, fierce one."

I don't wait for her reply. I lean forward and taste her with one long, deliberate stroke of my tongue, savoring the salt-sweet flavor that is uniquely Ronnie. Her fingers tighten painfully in my hair, her hips jerking forward involuntarily.

"So eager," I murmur against her sensitive flesh. "Such a pretty little slut for me."

The crude word makes her whimper, her body tensing. I glance up, catching the conflict in her gray eyes—the desire warring with her need to maintain control. I've always loved that about her, how fiercely she guards herself, how magnificent she is when she finally surrenders.

I slide one hand up to press against her abdomen, holding her in place as my tongue circles her clit with deliberate precision. "No running now," I warn her. "I caught you fair and square."

Her head falls back, exposing the elegant line of her throat. "Araton, please?—"

"Please what?" I pause my ministrations, earning a frustrated whine. "Please stop? Please give you what you need? Please make you come so hard you forget why you ever ran from me in the first place?"

She doesn't answer with words, just rolls her hips against my mouth in desperate, shameless hunger. It's all the invitation I need.

I devour her like a starving man, alternating between teasing licks and forceful suction that has her trembling, knees threatening to buckle.

Her taste is intoxicating—sweeter than ammerinth, more addictive than any substance on Aerasak.

I could stay here for hours, worshipping her with my tongue, listening to the beautiful symphony of her gasps and moans.

"You taste divine," I growl against her, sliding two fingers inside her slick heat while my tongue continues its relentless attack on her clit. "My beautiful, filthy girl—getting this wet from being hunted through the forest."

She's close already—I can feel it in the way her inner walls clench around my fingers, in the frantic rhythm of her hips. I curl my fingers upward, finding that spot that makes her see stars, and suck her clit between my lips.

"Let go," I command. "Be a good little slut and come all over my face."

The degradation mixed with praise pushes her over the edge. She screams—a raw, primal sound that echoes through the forest—as her orgasm tears through her. Her body convulses, thighs clamping around my head, wetness flooding my tongue and chin.

I don't relent, working her through each wave, drinking down everything she has to give me.

My own arousal is painful, cock straining against my trousers, but I ignore it.

This moment isn't about me—it's about reclaiming what's mine, about showing her exactly what she's been missing by keeping me at arm's length.

When her tremors finally subside, I pull back just enough to look up at her. Her eyes are half-lidded, face flushed with pleasure, chest heaving as she tries to catch her breath. I've never seen anything more beautiful.

I rise to my feet, still holding her gaze. Her eyes are glazed with pleasure, pupils blown wide in the darkness between my wings. Something in the way she looks at me—vulnerable, wanting—makes my chest tighten painfully.

Her legs are barely supporting her weight as she reaches for me. The fierce girl who snarls and snaps is nowhere to be seen, replaced by this soft, trembling creature. She pulls my face to hers, and when our lips meet, the taste of her still lingering on my tongue, I groan into her mouth.

The kiss is messy, desperate. Her teeth catch my bottom lip, and I taste the metallic hint of blood.

Her slender fingers fumble with my trousers, working at the laces with clumsy urgency.

The back of my mind registers that this is the first time she's ever initiated more between us—the first time she's ever shown that she wants me beyond the moment I push her over the edge.

Something possessive and primal surges through me. I snap.

My hand shoots out, circling both her wrists in a tight grip. In one swift motion, I pin them above her head against the rough bark of the tree. Her gasp fills my mouth.

"Not this time," I growl against her lips. "You don't get to be in charge."

Her body goes taut, caught between struggling and surrender. "Araton?—"

"Three years." The words burn in my throat.

Something about tonight has scraped open those barely healed wounds and I need to cut out the hurt.

I need to cauterize them instead of ignoring it.

And right now, I want to bleed for her and get it all out.

"Three fucking years, Ronnie. You ran from me, hid my child, built a life without me.

" My free hand yanks at my laces, freeing my painfully hard cock.

"And now you think you can just take what you want? "

"Please," she whimpers, and the sound of her begging nearly undoes me. Her hips cant forward, seeking friction. "I need you."

"You've always needed me." I grip her thigh, hitching it up over my hip. "You just never had the courage to admit it."

With one hand still pinning her wrists, I lift her, her legs automatically wrapping around my waist. The head of my cock slides through her slickness, teasing her entrance. She's absolutely drenched, her arousal coating me, making me dizzy with want.

"I'll take my apology out on this perfect body," I tell her, voice rough with desire. "Make you feel every day you kept from me."

In one brutal thrust, I bury myself to the hilt inside her.

The sensation is overwhelming—her tight heat gripping me, her broken cry filling the night air.

I have to pause, forehead pressed against hers, wings trembling with the effort of restraint.

She feels like sin and salvation wrapped into one, like coming home after a lifetime of wandering.

"Fuck, that's it," I groan, starting to move in deep, punishing strokes. "Take it like the pretty little slut you are."

Her head falls back against the tree trunk, throat working as she swallows a moan. "Araton, gods?—"

"Is this what you wanted when you ran?" I snap my hips forward, driving deeper. "To be hunted down and fucked against a tree like a wanton little whore?"

Her inner walls clench around me at the degradation, and I smile against her neck. Always so proper, my Ronnie, but she melts when I talk filthy to her.

"You're fucking magnificent," I praise, biting at the junction of her neck and shoulder. "Taking my cock so well, so wet and eager for me."

Each thrust drives a breathy gasp from her lips.

The scent of sex and sweat fills the space between my wings, making my head swim.

I adjust my grip, changing the angle, and her next cry tells me I've found that perfect spot inside her.

I make sure to hit it with every stroke, watching her face contort with pleasure.

"That's right, fierce one," I murmur, my rhythm becoming more erratic as heat builds at the base of my spine. "I'm going to fill this sweet cunt up, remind you who you belong to."

Her eyes fly open, locking with mine. "I'm close," she gasps. "So close?—"

"Come around my cock," I command, releasing her wrists to grip her hips with both hands, driving into her with renewed force. "Now."

She shatters gorgeously, back arching, nails digging into my shoulders hard enough to draw blood. Her inner muscles convulse around me in tight, rhythmic pulses, and the sight of her—head thrown back in abandon, my name on her lips—sends me tumbling over the edge with her.

I bury myself deep one final time, groaning as I empty inside her. The world contracts to nothing but sensation—her body clenching around mine, her heartbeat thundering against my chest, the sweet smell of her hair filling my nostrils.

For a moment, we remain locked together, panting heavily, the forest silent except for the sound of our labored breathing.

Her head drops to my shoulder, face pressed against my neck.

I can feel the wetness of tears on her skin, though whether from the intensity of her release or something deeper, I can't tell.