~ HARTH ~
All the questions and doubt fell away when he took her in his arms. His voice, deep and rough with weariness that made her want to cradle him, but she was too busy gasping and tingling.
His touch felt like cold comets on her skin, sparkling and arching, lighting her up, as if the nerves rose to the surface just to find him.
And even though she was nervous, she was also thrilled. She'd waited for this for so many years… and her heart thrummed with heat for him.
She'd kissed males when she was young, flirted, and even been touched. But she'd never found a male that made her need. Yet, here he was—her mate. And his every touch made her tremble and arch.
She didn't know what she was doing, but as he stroked her sides, ran his hands through her hair and rocked his hips against hers, she followed his lead—enjoying the marble ripple of this muscles on his back, and the thunder of his breath in her ear, fluttering her hair.
He painted her with kisses, his lips soft and full, his tongue tasting and teasing, from her lips, to her jaw, down her neck and back to her breasts—a new sensation for Harth that was, she discovered, an entire world of pleasure in itself.
She'd never understood the male attraction to breasts, but when Tarkyn breathed her name against the skin of her chest, then sucked her nipple into his mouth, she stopped breathing with the crackle of pleasure that snapped through her belly to meet the ache between her thighs where he rested.
And as the conversation and fear of their differences faded from her mind to be replaced with sheer joy at the warm strength of him over her, the sweet taste of his lips, the shivering pleasure of hearing him moan when she stroked him… Harth had never felt more alive.
Deep in her chest, something came to life. A small, fluttering light that sparkled and fizzed right in the middle of her heart and, as it beat, pulsed, sending spiraling stars into her bloodstream.
Her hands were already shaking, but when Tarkyn kissed his way back up her body, and the velvet steel of his arousal found her head—he was right there—but at first he only rubbed himself against her in a slow, steady rhythm that made her breath stop at the peak of each roll.
Dear Lord, Harth," he gasped, pushing up on his fists to brace himself over her, his shoulder rigid, the muscles twitching and rolling as he arched his back to press himself against her harder.
Her mouth was open like a fool, but she didn't care. She'd slapped both hands to his lower back, pulling him against her in a silent plea to keep going as her body began to thrum.
The long part of his hair fell to either side of his face, ruffling against his shoulders as they moved together. His eyes were wide and bright, intense, locked on hers.
"So beautiful," he gasped. "So beautiful, my beautiful."
She kept becoming overwhelmed with the sensations and closing her eyes, and each time he would call her back until she opened them again. But staring at him while their bodies moved together like that, knowing in a moment he would take her—aching for him to do it, whimpering with a need for him that she'd never felt before—Harth felt stripped bare, but in the best way.
As if he could see her very soul.
Moved by a rush of emotion in the same moment that he tilted his hips and slid against her, almost taking her, Harth clapped a hand to the back of his neck and braced herself against him.
'Please, Tarkyn,' she sent, begging in his mind instinctively.
He groaned, heat and surprise flashing in his eyes, but she was too far gone to slow.
'Please, I need you… my mate… my mate…'
Then he dropped to his elbows, whispering her name, curling his fingers into her hair and pulling her head back to bare her throat. And she gave it to him. Joyously, hopefully, willingly, she gave it to him.
*****
~ TARKYN ~
Harth was incredible. Impossible. Magnificent. Their talk of his past with other females had grieved his heart, but now, even as they only touched, he knew—and prayed she would believe—he had never felt this way about any other female.
Something within her called to him, singing in his bones. And she had an abandon, a way she gave herself that somehow married innocence with courage, and set his body alight.
As he rocked against her, a hair's breadth from taking her, she gasped and urged him on, begged him. Then her voice bloomed in his mind, and it was as if they were joined on every level except the one the bond demanded.
A fizzing, sparkling heat began in his chest, spiraling out from his heart, spinning through his veins until he would have sworn his skin was alight. With every thundering pound of his heart, with every shuddering roll of his hips, the light inside him grew, filling his veins, until it pressed out of his skin and reached for her.
"Harth…" he breathed, as he lowered himself, covering her, bracing on his elbows, still pressing against her, preparing her, showing her the way it would be…
He should have explained, but he was lost for words when she smiled with joy, gasping at his touch.
Unable to resist, he closed his fingers in her hair and tugged her head back—and glory of glories, she didn't resist him. Chin high and eyes closed, she whispered his name as he kissed her chin, then the underside of her jaw, then tasted the soft, vulnerable skin of her throat.
His body screamed, humming with sheer need.
"Mine," he growled against her throat.
"Yes!"
"Mine, forever, Harth. My mate."
Her fingers dug into the muscles of his shoulders, but he didn't care. He sucked at her throat and she whimpered as he drew his hips back, positioning himself, preparing to take her.
"This might hurt," he rasped, then licked the skin with the tip of his tongue. "But I vow to you, I'll—"
There was the slightest clatter—a tiny pebble sliding down the rock-cliff above and bouncing on the stone behind him, but Tarkyn's instincts screamed a split second before shadows fell over them, heavy steps landed just feet from them, and a spear point appeared just inches from Harth's throat.
"Get back, Tarkyn, you've been deceived!"
The lion within him roared to shatter the peace of WildWood.