Page 40 of Bred By Sor'en

The owner of that wail, that haunted, horrified sound, lands in front of me like one of the missiles that helped kill off Old Earth. I’m not ready when Sor’en’s eyes meet mine, and his hand snaps out, taking me to the forest floor. He doesn’t let me hit hard, but a scream rips from my throat as he crouches over me. His imposing form more lethal than graceful. He doesn’t speak, just pants. And when his forehead rests on mine, I don’t mean to flinch. I can hear others' prayers and consolations, pleas for me to stop, but I can’t look away from the male pinning me to the ground.

My body reacts on instinct, my hands trembling as I brace them on his chest. I mean to push him, I swear it. To stay outside the protection of his clothes. My chilled fingers slip beneath instead, onto the leathery soft skin of his chest. A small whimper leaving my throat as they slicken immediately. My body losing its grip on its panic as whatever toxin he’s given me soaks into my pores. I slip my slick hands further beneath the deep V ofhis structured garment mindlessly, like a compulsion I have no business even trying to fight.

Sor’en trembles under my touch and I feel it run the length of his body. “You cannot—" He takes a deep breath, finally releasing the hand behind my head to grip my wrist. I wince, readying for the sting of a punishing touch, but it is gentle as he slips my hand up his chest, edging it toward his toned neck. Allowing me to gather more oil, forcing me to. “You cannot leave me, Draya’la. You cannot run from me.”

Tears burst into my eyes unwanted as his own hand leaves mine, slicking its way up my exposed chest, coating me in oil so warm I’m sinking into the ground. My body a puddle of nothing. I mean to squirm, to move away as his fingers grace the tender flesh of my breasts, but I can’t. My limbswon’t.

It occurs to me in some distant kind of way that he’s paralyzed me. My hand falls from him limply to the ground as if to compound that realization. He didn’t paralyze my tears, though, no, of course not. They run down my face as freely as always, dripping into the ground beneath me. “Why?”

“I ammadwithout you.”

“You barely know me.”

“I knew you before the stars made their homes in the sky. You will not run from me again, my beautiful, foolish mate.”

I sniffle because my pulse is fluttering and his words are pretty.

Because it would be easy, perhaps, to believe them if I didn’t have to do exactly that.

“I can’tmove, Sor’en,” I state, even though it’s obvious. It's far easier to state something obvious than something convoluted and not.

“Mate. Say it, call me your mate.”

A dark shadow zooms overhead, flinging itself around us. My useless body letting out a shiver as his hands sink lower, deeper,my core tightening and gripping around nothing. “Please,” he begs. “You will claim me, the goddesses—"

“Are not my goddesses.”

“Iamyours. It matters little what you choose to believe in. Youwillbelieve inmebecausefor you, Hue, I am fucking inevitable.Take me, my horrid little gift, or I shall not release you from this.” The desperation in his voice hollows out my chest, the tiny bundle of nerves between my legs jolts as he wedges his knee there, adding pressure I hadn’t realized I needed yet.

“I didn’t ask for this. I don’twantto be yours,” I lie, my ugly little lies. “Ihaveto go. I have to get to Lunareth.”

“You cannot.”

“Then… then take me, take me away from here. Find us a way there, together, Sor’en, please.”

He sobers at that, his hand making its way to my neck and up my chin, smearing his delicious oil across my lips. “I cannot.”

His head jerks to the side as Melion sparks with violet bolts, making me internally wince. Without another word, I’m gathered limp into his arms and carried back into the boundary as need so pungent it’s a torment not to squirm. A misery so ripe it sours my gut.

We were entirely silent for the few moments it took us to arrive home. In my sluggish, heated non-thoughts, I wondered why they bother with the hovercrafts at all when simply phasing is much faster for them. I’m drenched in oil every inch where he touches my prone, unresponsive body. It's strange, the way my heart soars as he holds me close, so helpless, so entirely at thissupposed monster's mercy. There is power in knowing he simply needs to reach out to render me mindless... that he could kill me with a touch. That he's already killed for me with the very same fingers that bring me pleasure. Power that a small, insignificant human like me has never felt, likely will never again.

So, when we appear in front of the wasting room, my heart seizes its languid beat. “No!” I rush out as the door parts and we end up in front of the cleansing unit.

His white hair brushes over my face, their ends now drenched too as he looks down at me, tickling the soft skin of my face. Unable to brush it away, I wrinkle my nose instead. The sorrow, the hot, unfiltered want in his eyes drills through me.

“D-don’t wash it off. I want to stay like this for a while longer.”

I could swear he shudders against me. “Shall I take you to your nest?”

I try to shake my head, but nothing moves. I haven’t used the tent since we bonded. Haven’t even wanted to, but Sor’en has kept it clean and tidy for me despite my knowing how badly we’d both rather see it torn down. It boiled down to the choice again.

He kept my nest.

I chose his bed.

I got to choose.

And I’m doing it again now.