Page 29 of Snag (Conduit #2)

Still holding my gaze, Zaya takes a breath. I watch her chest rise, then fall.

“I … those trains are automated, so I was careful to stay out of sensor range until it was too late. I …”

My chest feels as though it’s cracking open. Weirdly painful tears flood my eyes.

“I couldn’t exist without you. I knew … I knew you were waiting for me in the aether. That’s why the bite hadn’t faded.” I take a shuddering breath. “I timed it perfectly …”

Silence settles between us.

Zaya smooths her thumb over the bite mark on my hand. “And then …”

“And then the gryphon tore through me, from me. And I woke up three days later on the beach, as close as I could get to the boundary wards keeping me from the Gage estate without alerting anyone.”

Zaya reaches for me. And this time, I can’t stop myself from pulling her into my arms, into my lap. She twines her arms around my neck, legs straddling mine.

“I knew then,” I whisper into her neck. “Without a doubt, I knew you were still alive.”

“Because the gryphon knew.”

“Yeah.” I press my face alongside hers, just breathing for a moment.

“I picked myself up, walked the entire fucking way back to the main pack house, avoiding everyone. Got online and figured out what had happened. The gryphon fucking derailed that train. No one was badly injured, but there was a massive investigation. Even I couldn’t find any uncompromised footage.

Just a bright flare of essence whiting out the entire area, then flickering back on to the derailed train in all its crumpled glory. ”

Zaya presses her face into my neck, breathing me in. “And then …”

I tighten my hold on her. “I started searching for you. I couldn’t get anywhere fucking close to Disa, not that she would have answered my questions. But I could have —”

Zaya’s fingers thread through my hair, and her mouth is on mine before I’ve even registered that’s she shifted in my lap. The kiss is all encompassing, desperate. Her tongue in my mouth. Jaws, lips, all tense. Teeth almost biting.

Instantly hard again, I grab her hips and grind against her core. Too much clothing between us.

Zaya gasps into my mouth, then groans and melts into me. The kiss softens, easing into passion instead of being edged in terror. The terror of almost losing each other.

Even if Zaya doesn’t remember our foundation, her body knows me. Trusts me to take care of her, to give her what she needs. That connection.

She tugs at my shirt, so I yank it off. Her mouth is on mine again the moment it’s clear. Her hands are all over my chest, gripping my shoulders, as she grinds down on my cock.

The residual spell flare from Bellamy’s curse — blackened lines radiating across my chest, muddling all my tattoos — retreats under Zaya’s hands, dissipating under her touch. As if that lingering bit of foul essence can’t stand even a brush of Zaya’s heady power.

“Please … please …” Zaya whispers, sucking on my bottom lip.

I palm her breasts. She’s not wearing a bra, maybe just a camisole. Her nipples are erect. I groan into her mouth.

Her essence snaps out, flooding the room, then twining loosely around us. Her kisses and caresses become almost frenzied.

“What’s happening?” she gasps, still trying to keep quiet though both of us would sense if anyone was near. Before I can articulate a response or try to slow us down, she adds, as if chastising herself, “What’s happening doesn’t fucking matter right now. I need your cock in me.”

“Oh, fuck,” I moan. “Is this … too fast?”

“Am I currently coming on your cock?” she asks.

“Fuck, not yet.”

“Then it’s not too fast …” Zaya reaches between us for the buttons of my jeans. Then she takes a shuddering breath and hesitates for a moment, meeting my eyes. “It’s not too fast, is it? We can … we can …”

Her pupils are blown out, swallowing most of the violet of her eyes. Her lips are slightly swollen, flushed, from our fierce kisses.

Keeping my gaze locked to hers, I slide my hand up her thighs and under her skirt, which is already rucked up.

With a gentle swipe of my talons against the sides, I tear off her underwear.

The partial transformation of my fingernails is effortless, triggered with barely a thought, as if the gryphon is pressed against the insides of my skin as eager to touch, to fuck, Zaya as I am.

She laughs, breathless and relieved — and not at all concerned about me suddenly manifesting aspects of my beast. Then she shifts back to free my cock from my jeans.

“No underwear …” She flashes a wicked grin at me.

I laugh, helpfully sliding my hips forward and leaning back so she has more room to maneuver on me.

Hand ringing my cock, holding me in place, Zaya rises on her knees —

Trying to slow us down just a bit, to savor the moment, I slip my fingers between her legs, seeking her warmth, teasing through her wetness. She shudders, closing her eyes and groaning quietly as I rub her clit in light little circles.

“I haven’t gone home yet,” I murmur in answer to her question about my going commando, hoping my shop-worn callouses aren’t too rough.

Something flashes in her eyes — and it might simply be the universe looking through her, just as the gryphon peers through me. With one hand still gripping my cock, she pins me by the neck against the couch with the other. “You aren’t going anywhere.”

Fuck me. My brain fucking melts. I’m already seriously fucking worried that I’m going to come too quickly, even though I jerked off after our morning make-out session.

Still teasing her clit, I raise my free hand, grinning in surrender. Because the only other option is to grab her hips and fucking impale her on my rigid fucking cock.

Zaya nods, perfectly serious.

Then she notches my waiting and willing cock into her entrance. With no other preamble. Bobbing her hips, she coats me with her wetness, takes me in inch by inch.

I would have happily eased into penetration. Teased her into coming on my fingers, then my tongue. But I’m also not saying no to anything Zaya wants, needs, from me.

I get that this isn’t just sex.

It’s primal, fundamental.

My soul-bound mate is claiming me. I’m already hers, but she needs to know it, feel it.

Zaya gets me fully seated within her, head lolling back to expose her neck as she pauses.

Pauses and simply savors me buried deep inside her.

I close my eyes for a moment, holding a groan and my climax at bay.

Unable to watch her enjoying my cock without coming, without even a single full fucking stroke.

She slowly lifts herself up off me … slowly, slowly sliding me out of her with a quiet groan. I chance a glance at my mate. Her head is still fallen back, chest thrust forward — eager nipples practically begging for my mouth.

I oblige, not bothering with trying to get her sweater off. Just shoving it up and yanking the camisole down to expose her tight, dark nipples, palming one and sucking on the other.

Zaya wraps her arms around my head, groaning and twisting her fingers through my hair. Then she fucking slams down on my cock.

Fuck, fuck.

Zaya grinds down. I glance to where we’re joined, but happily — because the sight might actually do me in — her skirt covers us.

Zaya slides up me, quicker this time, then down. “Oh, fuck. Why … why does this feel so good?”

“Condom,” I gasp.

Angling her hips forward, she grinds against my base, bouncing on me shallowly.

Everything goes blurry around the edges.

I palm her face. “Zaya, love. Condom?”

“No,” she gasps, violet eyes blinking open. “I don’t … I can’t … the Conduit …” She blinks again, her expression clearing, forehead pinching.

But I get what she’s saying. That isn’t something we need to discuss right now. To keep her with me, because I’m already barreling toward the edge, I grasp her hips, find her clit with my thumb, and thrust up into her. Twice.

Zaya pins her hand around my neck again, shoving me back against the couch before she takes over, grinding into my hand while also gripping my cock in her warm, tight pussy.

“Fuck,” I say through clenched teeth. “I’m going to come, my Marrow.”

“I’m here,” she gasps. “I’m here.”

Her rhythm becomes erratic. Her hold on my neck tightens, then loosens completely as her forehead falls to my shoulder. As if she’s lost control of her limbs, her body.

I vaguely hope I’m keeping pressure on her clit, because my balls tighten even further, pleasure prickles at the base of my spine, and then I’m fucking coming so hard my vision completely whites out.

Zaya buries her face and her shouted cry in my neck, shuddering and trembling, clenching tightly around my cock.

All her energy, all those twists of essence that have thickened around us, contract tightly. Chest to chest, that power from Zaya burrows through my skin, then expands.

I swear I feel all that essence fill the ever-present void, sealing over the mortal wound in my soul.

Zaya’s tight pussy flutters around my still-rock-hard cock as she shudders against my chest, either riding residual shocks from her orgasm or tipping over a second time.

And all I can do in the moment is accept everything pouring from her, greedily clutch her to me, as I ejaculate again. Long, almost painful spurts. Even though I, too, have already come.

Both of us shout again, loudly. Though we’ve been trying to keep quiet out of deference to the sharp-eared shifters in the house.

Then Zaya collapses over me, limp and humming against my neck, completely content to just sprawl across me and breathe .

My heart is fucking beating its way out of my chest. I smooth my hand down her spine, opening my eyes to check on her.

Rath is hovering halfway into the family room.

His hair and skin are damp, as if he’s come in from outside, maybe from patrolling grounds that don’t need to be physically patrolled. His gaze is riveted to Zaya in my arms. His expression verges on desperate.

Zaya opens her eyes, tipping her head just enough to settle those purple orbs of blazing power on her untethered soul-bound mate.

I can actually see her power reflecting against the nearby windows.

As if the universe, peering through the Conduit, is interested in this moment.

In how Rath and the celestial dragon are going to react.

I run my hand down Zaya’s spine again.

Rath’s shoulders and his expression relax. He meets my gaze. Relieved. Then he steps back the way he must have entered, through the back patio doors. Presumably he was drawn to the house by all the energy, the press of essence that felt as if it bound Zaya and me together.

Perhaps even reforged our bond?

Zaya tips her head up, nose ghosting over my jaw as she easily dismisses Rath to whisper in my ear, “Again?”

I lift her off the couch, making sure my jeans are buttoned enough to not fall down while I carry her up the stairs and into her bed. With the door firmly closed and locked behind us.

The noise-canceling wards etched around Zaya’s walls flare the moment after I throw my mate on the bed, yank off her skirt, and bury my face in her pussy. Gobbling up her gasps and moans, I lick up every drop of her sweet minty tang, all for myself.