Mated to the Warrior Beast

Suddenly, shockingly, Tarkyn came alive in her head, her heart. The bond crackled and hummed, shivering with a rush of new sensations—as if she had grown another skin.

It was impossible in that moment to tell where she ended and he began. She could feel his solid strength under her, inside her, around her—and she could feel herself in his arms.

She could feel his pleasure peaking.

Yet, even as the tide on her own climax drew away from the shore of her heart, to suddenly sense his, to feel the blood coursing under his skin, burning with heat and crackling with energy, to sense his boundless desire for her, to feel that impossible bliss crash over him, pulled her body into another spiral.

As if she was suddenly thrown from a cliff, another orgasm rocked her from her foundations.

She screamed Tarkyn’s name in the same moment he roared, announcing to all of Creation his dominance, his rule over her—and hers over him. Their voices mingled, sending clouds of birds startling into the sky.

Twitching and crying with the ecstasy of it all, it took time to return to earth. When Harth finally opened her eyes, chest still heaving, she found herself spent, her body languid and shivering, her muscles water. It was an effort to raise her hands, to find him.

Tarkyn’s face was buried in the curve of her neck, one spread between her breasts, pinning her to him, the other still at her throat. Yet she felt no fear. Because she could feel him. All of him.

.....

His body that shook and trembled, overwhelmed.

His heart that swelled and ached with the sheer weight of his love.

And that warm, selfless soul that cried out for her.

He didn’t hold her to conquer her will. He held her as a treasure. And the love that passed between them, body to body, heart to heart, soul to soul, stole her breath and brought tears to her eyes.

“Are you okay?” he whispered, still trembling, still holding her.

“Yes, yes. Tarkyn, yes. I love you.”

He made a small cry, then with shaking hands and trembling limbs, turned her so she faced him, tucking her legs around his waist and holding her face, his shining eyes—no sign of his lion—drinking her in.

“I love you, Harth,” he whispered hoarsely, as if the roar had broken his voice. “I love you so much.”

“I know,” she said through happy tears. “I can feel it. Can you feel me too?”

He nodded, then huffed a disbelieving laugh. “My beautiful mate,” he whispered, kissing her gently again and again. “My beautiful, perfect mate. The answer to my prayers.”

Harth curled her arms around his neck and pulled him close.

They held each other for a very long time.

*****

~ TARKYN ~

At some point he was forced to move.

The same vague, nameless drive to do what must be done that had always pushed him out of the warm furs on a cold morning, insisted that he care for his mate.

Even the thought was a pleasure.

They’d held each other until their breathing returned to normal… and then until the cold of the water began to puncture the beauty and happiness that filled his chest to bursting.

When he straightened to look down on her, Harth lifted her head slowly, her eyes still half-hooded as she smiled at him.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked quietly, then gently urged her to tip her head to the side so he could check that her claiming marks had stopped bleeding.

To his relief, they had.

While Harth stretched and murmured happily that she was fine, he scooped handfuls of water, bringing them up to clean away the blood and clean the wounds.

She shivered as the chill water dribbled down her back and front, pulling him closer so that the water couldn’t pass between them, but trailed off down their sides.

He brushed his lips at her temple and continued to check her all over, ensuring that he hadn’t injured her. She slumped happily against his chest and shoulder, muttering to him not to fuss. But he couldn’t stop touching her. His hands trembled, but no longer with desire, now with the simple, overwhelming love that had rocked him to his core.

He could feel her, crystal clear. Feel her love for him, her weariness, her happiness… feel that her marks ached, but not disturbingly so. Feel that she wished for nothing more than to simply lay with him.

And he breathed a sigh of relief, because he felt the same.

“You’re alive in my heart, Tarkyn,” she whispered against his neck. “I can feel you.”

He went still. “Like I feel you?”

“Yes. I think so. I can feel that you were truly worried about hurting me. Don’t. I hadn’t realized how much you’d leashed yourself. You don’t need to. I want you as you are.”

Her simple words took his breath away. He wrapped one hand over her head and the other around her back and squeezed her to him for a moment to let the wave of emotion pass. Then he sighed. “Let’s go to the cave,” he murmured, tracing his hand up and down her spine.

She sighed, but nodded.

Tarkyn gave her a hand to steady her as she stood. Then slowly, with many touches and traces, they both got to their feet and hurried up to the cave to Tarkyn’s stash of towels, where they dried each other, then applied ointment to their marks.

When his finger brushed over her wounds, Harth shivered. He would have thought he had hurt her, but instead the hair raised on his arms because he could feel the tingling pleasure that washed over her.

Then, both of them exhausted, they tumbled into the bed together, tangling legs and limbs until they made a single mound under the thick fur.

And then they slept the deepest, most precious sleep Tarkyn could remember in his years as a soldier. As if not only his body rested, but also his heart… and his very soul.