Page 123 of Wolfkissed
“But I…” Her eyes are glassy. “I rubbed myself on you…”
Gods, the image. The memory of it. A man needs fuel for his fantasies, but what we did threatens to burn every other fantasy to the ground.
“We’re in the wilderness,” I tell her gently. “This isn’t a normal situation. I’ve seduced you, driven you off your habitual path. As soon as you’re back in civilized society, you’ll be fine. Won’t even remember what we did here, and I sure won’t tell.”
“You think so?” she mumbles.
“I’m sure. You’ll forget all this and fit right back into your social program.”
Her soft mouth twists. “Don’t lie to me, Valen.”
“Princess—”
“But maybe you’re right.” She sighs. “Maybe I’ll be fine. Maybe then I’ll stop thinking about you.”
I stare at her. She talks as if… as if she spends time thinking about me. I mean, sure, the girl needed some release, and I’m not unpleasant to look at, if I say so myself. I’ve been described as a sight for sore eyes and been having to fend off advances by pretty girls and boys for all my life. I’m used to being wanted.
Not so used to being denied.
But that’s not why I’m drawn to her. I know why. She gets my humor. She matches my speed. Her courage is extraordinary. Her compassion¸ her moral compass, her fears, her worries, they speak to me. Touch me. I think together we could be great, we could be amazing. We’d fit so perfectly together. I’d soothe her dark edges, and she’d make me a better man. And the emotions she awakens in me… such tenderness, such gentleness… and such violent desire.
Mate. She’s my mate.
How the fuck am I supposed to let her go? I thought losing my mother without an explanation was the worst thing in theworld, but my princess is alive and right here, with me. How can I write her off for dead and keep living without her?
“I should clean your wounds,” she says sometime later as we walk through meadows and expanses of wildflowers. “You could fall sick and die.”
“We’ve talked about this. If I take off my pants, you’ll see my knot.”
“Doesn’t it ever go down?” she asks.
“Since I met you? No. It’s only swelling bigger.”
“Is that normal?”
“Nothing is normal about…” I growl. “Forget it.”
“I want to see it,” she says.
“What?”
“Your knot.”
I laugh and shake my head, but she stops walking and plants her hands on her hips. “What, you’re serious?”
“Don’t I look serious?”
Her pretty face sure looks determined. “Are you sure? It’s not a sight for those with a delicate constitution.”
“I’m not delicate,” she says.
“Of course you are.”
“No. I’ve tried to be a delicate lady, but I talk back. I don’t keep my gaze down. I like being in the garden, planting together with the gardeners and with the cooks, learning recipes. I may spend a lot of time reading and embroidering, but that’s the only ladylike thing about me.”
“Well,” I say, fighting a laugh, because she’s so determined to be fierce, “you’re still delicate. Your scent, your mouth, yourskin. I never knew I’d crave something so fragile and yet so strong.”
“Show me,” she says, resolved not to be detracted from her goal. “Show me your knot.”
